Why this date?

Since 1988, October 11 has been commemorated as Coming Out Day. It originated a year after the great march for gay and lesbian rights in Washington (1987), when the LGBTQ+ community presented itself as a strong and determined force.

The purpose of the day was clear: to remind us of the courage to step out of the shadows, to break the silence, and to show that we are part of society – not somewhere on the margins, but right among our loved ones.

When October 11 approaches, a peculiar mix of feelings always arises within me. I know that Coming Out Day had enormous significance for generations of people from the LGBTQ+ community. It reminded them that their life truth had value and gave them the courage to live without fear. In the 1980s this was not a given – coming out could mean losing family, friends, employment, or safety. Yet there were those who stepped forward.

Today, however, I feel a conflict. The original meaning was intimate, private, almost sacred. Coming out was not about the media or grand gestures, but about trust – the moment when a person shared their truth with those who mattered most to them. That was the strength, in that fragility and courage at the same time.

But over time, it turned into a symbol that media, politicians, and brands began to exploit.

• Politicians attach the rainbow flag when it brings them votes, but their deeds often tell another story.

• Companies change their logos, but only where it is marketing-wise profitable.

• The media show extremes, because extremes sell.

And sometimes I no longer recognize the original essence in it.

I have nothing against gays, lesbians, bisexuals, or trans people – on the contrary, I respect them, because I know how difficult it is to live in truth. But what bothers me is when their identity becomes a tool in the hands of populists and profiteers. Then Coming Out Day loses its soul. Instead of human stories, there remains only an empty spectacle.

I also see a paradox: the more this day becomes medialized, the less authentic it feels. People then react with rejection not because they hate the LGBTQ+ community itself, but because they feel that an "ideology" is being forced upon them. Yet it was never meant to be about ideology, but about humanity.

That is why, when I think of October 11, I try to return to its roots. I imagine a person sitting at the family table, with both fear and hope, saying: "This is who I am."

In that moment lies everything – courage, pain, the desire for acceptance, and the possibility to change the world with a small but genuine step.

I wish that this intimate and human dimension would never be lost. That Coming Out Day would not be just a colorful show, but a reminder that the truth about oneself is the greatest gift we can give to ourselves and to others.

What if BDSM became a tool of populism?

As I reflect on Coming Out Day and how an originally private gesture of individuals grew into a media spectacle, I ask myself: what if the same thing were to happen to BDSM?

What if our identity and practice also became a flag to be claimed by politicians, companies, and the media?

The lure of visibility

At first glance, it might seem tempting. Public visibility could break stigma, open space for discussions about safety, psychology, and the rights of practitioners.

It could mean less taboo, more openness, and recognition that even the BDSM community has its culture, history, and rules.

And yet, in that very moment, a warning voice arises within me. Because where there is too much visibility, there is room for misuse.

How it could unfold

I can vividly imagine how a private and intimate dynamic would become the target of populism:

• Politicians scoring points: some demonstrating support for a "new freedom," while others shouting about "moral decay."

• Companies launching ad campaigns with whips and cuffs as cheap symbols of being "daring," while their products have nothing to do with real BDSM practice.

• Media hunting for extremes – shocking stories, bizarre excesses – thus distorting in the public eye what BDSM truly is.

Three main risks

The result? Exactly the opposite of what the community would wish. Authenticity would vanish.

Where today privacy and trust hold a key value, there would appear only shallow show. From an intimate space where people learn responsibility, boundaries, and respect, it would turn into a battlefield of ideologies.

And that is a terrifying thought for me.

BDSM is fragile by its very nature. It is a world where we work with the body and the psyche, with pain and intimacy, with trust that goes to the core. At the moment it becomes a marketing slogan, we risk losing its fundamental essence: safety and authenticity.

I see three main risks in this:

1. Banalization – when a whip becomes a brand logo, the understanding is lost that behind every rope and cuff stands responsibility, knowledge, and care. BDSM is not a toy from a shelf, but a set of skills, rules, and respect.

2. Stigmatization – paradoxically, an excess of media imagery could lead to even stronger rejection. People who might otherwise be open to dialogue would close themselves off, feeling overwhelmed by images that do not reflect reality. Politicians would gladly score points by opposing "perversion."

3. Loss of intimacy – BDSM is always, for me, about private space – a room, silence, the moment when two people connect and allow themselves to go where they never would alone. It is about relationship, boundaries, and deep experience. If it turns into a public ideological banner, it ceases to be about trust and becomes about image.

In conclusion

And so I say to myself: I do not want BDSM to become a political tool. I do not want our community to become just another object of cultural wars.

I want it to remain authentic, responsible, and human. So that we can teach safety, respect, and consent – not because it sells well, but because it protects people and their psyche.

The experience of the LGBTQ+ movement shows how easily an intimate truth of a person can be turned into a flag claimed by others.

And that is why I ask myself: perhaps it is better for BDSM to remain in a certain shadow. Not in darkness, where stigma threatens, but in a natural intimacy, where the most important thing can unfold – the genuine connection between people.