Dixie, Help me come out of the closet, please!

Dear Dixie, Help me “come out”, please…

The other day when I was having my morning coffee out on the front porch while wearing my latex shirt under my cotton bathrobe, you said that you wished I would not do that any more…

I think you were probably mostly uncomfortable about me being outside, visible, and that my “secret” would get out — that “people would see me dressed  in rubber…”  I was covered in my bathrobe and, realistically, the neighbors next door or people in the cars driving by would not have been able to see me.  I suspect it may have just been the principle that I was out on the porch in my rubber for God and the world to see that bothered you.

You said, “I wish you would not do that…” 

Well, I wish that you would NOT wish that more deeply than you can possibly imagine!

“This above all;

To thine own self be true.

And as the day follows the night,

thou canst not be false to any man!”

(Hamlet)

Being a Rubberist is who I am.  It is my core identity.  It is what makes me tick.  If life is an art and I am an artist, rubber is my medium. It is a main source of my self-expression. All else that I may be is peripheral to that.  I cannot change, and even if I could, I would not. To do so would be to deny who I am.  Those who deny themselves, as Thoreau observed, “live lives of quiet desperation”.

While rubber is a recent invention, the concept of a “fetish” goes back into antiquity.  Anthropologists define a “fetish” as an inanimate object which casts a “spell” over someone. It does not have to have sexual connotations, though they seem to be common. In one sense, a voodoo doll is an example of a fetish that happens to be evil in nature.   However, in stark contrast to voodoo, the “spell” that rubber has over me and tens of thousands of others around the planet is both benign and is, in fact, a major source of delightful enchantment. In being Rubberists, we fulfill ourselves.

It is important to understand that all Rubberists have a fetish for rubber, but not all rubber fetishists are Rubberists.  There is a fine line where someone transcends the more common, predominantly sexual dimension of rubber fetish to embrace it much more broadly as a way of life which provides a focus of personal energy, creativity and momentum that is carried in to most other facets of his or her life.  In doing that, we Rubberists seek what the existentialists would call “fulfillment” through living our lives according to our true nature.

When I wear my rubber out on the porch or at my desk or anywhere else, I am venturing out to live according to my true nature. I am “living in rubber”…

Dixie, you may not realize this, but as a “normal” person, you were born “out of the closet”. Your sexuality and your identity are “mainstream”, which means they are fully accepted and sanctioned by society. In contrast, most Rubberists (and other kinky people) spend their entire lives trying to “come out”.  This has certainly always been the most significant struggle of my life since I was old enough to realize that I was “different”.  It has caused more sleepless nights, pain and unhappiness than you can possibly imagine.  I am certain that all other Rubberists also struggle with this mightily and eternally, as well.

All we want is to be ourselves with respect and dignity rather than be thought of as mentally defective or perverted.  When you say that you “wish I would not do that”, you push me back into the closet.

When I wear my rubber out on the front porch for God and the rest of the world to see (Well, OK, it’s mostly hidden under my robe) I am trying to bust out of the prison of my identity in the closet.  I am taking small steps toward building my self-esteem — I am trying to become like you… to deeply feel that I am “OK” in my heart and for others to accept me as I am.

So, the next time you see me out on the porch in my rubber, try not to think that you “wish I would not do that”. Instead try to understand why I wish you would feel glad for me that I am doing it.

Dixie, please help me become like you … self-respecting and self-fulfilling, while not changing who I am, a Rubberist…  Help me avoid having to “live a life of quiet desperation”. Help me open the door of my closet and venture forth, in my rubber, into the sun.




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