Darkness
from
Recon News
31 March 2026
By DogBoiBailey
Darkness is something that surrounds the LGBT and BDSM/Kink communities, from the design of our sexualised spaces to the very names of our gatherings and festivals. Darkness shapes our interaction norms, sexual practices and social spaces. Such a persistent omnipresence of shadows should perhaps prompt us to seek an urgent re-evaluation of this place in our scene. Pursuing such a search will lead us into the light of liberation and create considerate spaces that favour all.
The very subject of darkness in and of itself is not something obvious or simple to explore. Such an exploration provokes a myriad of questions from the simple "what is darkness?" to the nuanced "what is our relationship to darkness?" to the contextual "what is the history of darkness and hiding in the shadows?".
The very relationship between fetishism, kink and darkness is an equally complex one which begs its own subjective questions. From a philosophical angle, one could ask "If the darkness of the past had notions and nods to fear, shame and stigma, does the darkness of today still engender (even subconsciously) the very same negative connotations that so much work has been done to dismiss, disperse and deconstruct?". Somewhat less philosophical but equally pertinent ideas spring to mind when we posit a simple pro/con comparison: on one hand, "how does darkness positively embolden us and bring us as kinksters?" but also on the other "How does darkness negatively affect and take away from our sexual experiences and fetish lives?".
These last two questions form the basis for this article: to re-evaluate and consider some of the darkroom models as a contextualized space, its practicalities and begin to challenge the status-quo in our scene. Only then can we begin to obtain an answer to the overarching question: "Is there the light of liberation waiting for us at the end of the darkroom, and if so, what does it look like?".
Hidden in plain sight: cloaks of invisibility and liberation
Throughout our history, darkness has acted as a symbiotic cloak of freeing safety and suffering invisibilization for queer folk.
During the 20th century, darkness played a central role in our relations with fear, hatred and discrimination. The 1920s saw the cinema's back row provide a sanctuary for queer intimacy away from the prying hetero-normative gaze of the masses. Other public places such as bathhouses, photobooths and locker rooms served as early rare glimpses into LGBT+ social life and cruising culture. By the 1950s and 1960s, unabated police brutality and violent raids against LGBT+ venues and nightlife had pushed many to seek the safety of the dark underground; away from street level attention or suspicion of law enforcement. Such retreat into the shadows forced us to foster brotherhood, community and solidarity.
During the challenging decades of 1980s and 1990s, such a desire (and necessity) for darkness arose from an increasingly stigmatising and fearful world reacting to sexuality-related moral panics, and of course, the unfolding horrors of the AIDS crisis. Within this context, darkness acted as an enabler of adventure, intimacy and interaction while retaining the relative impression of safety in the form of anonymity and sensory detachment.
As gentrification took hold in the 21st century, and digitalization of our relations became the new norm, such sexualised and primal spaces remain some of the few lasting hallmarks of a past era. Western societal progress, increasing visibility and of course technological development has caused many aspects of our community to shift and adapt; everything from how we meet and socialize, to how we (and others) see and express our own identities. Yet there is one gleaming aspect of our experience that hasn't shifted all that much: the omnipresence of darkness in our spaces.
The Darkroom: utopia or inferno?
So the most obvious incarnation of 'darkness' that comes to mind for many in a fetish context is that of the 'darkroom' also known as a 'backroom'. For those who somehow missed that memo, a Darkroom refers to a purpose-built space used for sexual exploration and anonymised playtime, such spaces can be temporary or permanent but they are always characterized by low-level or no lighting and incorporate elements of cruising.
It's important to state that darkness is not exclusive to the darkroom, there exist plenty of other spaces that feature darkness of some sort as part of its modus operandi. Saunas, dedicated cruising clubs/bars, outside cruising spots, and of course kink events, all spring to mind. Of course the first two mentioned spaces are not all in the dark all the time, saunas often feature social space such as the bar in which lights are present.
With any talk of darkness, one cannot ignore the night and its nuance. Often we meet, play and party at night. Night is a place of obvious vulnerability but also one of social and sexual liberation.
For some the darkroom serves as a safe space for sexual exploration, for others they are places of shame, disgust and sinful sleaze. Throughout my late teens and early 20s, I would finish my night out at such places. I went not out of shame but more out of a horny curiosity about the touch of other men, above all, in a public space. It was a formative and marking experience for me. I have no shame to disclose this: Ten years ago in my London of 2015, before PrEP was widely available, such places and spaces were enablers of dangerous and risky behaviour for me and many others. It was only after a positive diagnosis years later that I began to assess what risk myself and others went through in our shared pursuit of physical connection, pleasure and sexual fulfilment. What do these spaces and their surviving legacy say about our relationship with the darkness today? To this day, I still have complex feelings about such spaces as I am certain many of us do.
"If it ain't broke…": in defence of darkness
Upon discussing this with kinky peers, some would take the line of "if it ain't broke don't fix it". It is true that darkness for many is a thing to be enjoyed, a condition that hides our insecurities, that increases universality of appearance and equality of bodies. Others state the anonymity and privacy allows playtime and interactions to be enhanced and in cases more daring. Dance like no-one is watching becomes "let's fuck like no-one is watching!'. Darkness isn't the only way to ensure anonymity of course. The use of balaclavas, blindfolds, pup hoods, or even the very principle of the gloryhole, are other ways in which we hide ourselves. This could even be applied to virtual spaces with the famous and infuriating profiles without photos.
Michael Foucault's theory of 'Heterotopia' fits interestingly with the darkroom as a conceptual space. The simple darkroom has more than meets the eye; a place in which perceived sin, perverted pleasure and unashamed anonymity are symbiotically intertwined and re-appropriated. Such spaces can allow us to live-out our fantasies, overcome our fears, rewrite trauma and free ourselves with new experiences. or simply put "What happens in the dark, stays in the dark".
In this sense, concepts of darkness, anonymity and 'blind' sex are heavily interlinked and co-dependent. They say love is blind, well so is lust! Reasons are obvious, either one doesn't want to be recognised, is afraid of being discriminated against due to age/appearance, or simply finds the act of playing with someone they don't know, or moreover, can't see, exciting.
At this point, darkness seems like a pretty good thing and rightly an understandable feature of our scene. This is not entirely wrong but I know I am not the only one to have seen the strengths of light and how its introduction can manage and organize our sexual spaces better. This is not necessarily an argument against darkness but more of an argument in favour of more light.
And let there be light: advocating for enlightenment
I saw the light when I went to the US and experienced the dungeon model of play during the Austin Kink Weekend. Instead of a darkroom, there was a large open space, littered with tantalizing pieces of BDSM equipment. What was different from European darkrooms was the lighting. There were dedicated spotlights on each piece of equipment alongside a low lighting on the ceiling. Nothing too harsh as to feel as if we were in an operating theatre or an asylum, just enough to engage and enjoy.
The dim lighting changed the dynamic of the space as I observed others play (and from the other side of the room), I was overcome with a sense of epiphany "this is how it should be done". It was really nice to see what was happening without having to be so close as to impose one's presence. It allowed others to watch while creating a sense of shared experience. After I had observed a practice, I was able to introduce myself, ask that person about how to learn more, what the risks were and let's be honest: just compliment them and flirt! It was precisely because I had clearly seen what had been happening (not just a silhouette) that I could ask those detailed questions.
All in all, light enhanced connection while engaging simultaneously both desires of exhibitionism and voyeurism. It's presence imposed a level of mutual accountability and safeguarding which made me feel safer. It was also, of course, super hot to play, knowing that others could see and get off. Duh.
Apart from the subjective pervy aspects, there were some objective practicalities that became apparent. Dimmed white light made the establishment of consent and comfort theoretically a much easier task. Light ensured that signs of distress such as face expressions (gritted teeth, grimaces, tears, skin colour), the tensing of hands, and other physical expressions of pain or distress were easier to spot.
This also goes for signs of 'red' or 'brown' that could be easily missed in a dark setting and give us that nasty surprise. Honestly, whoever thought red lights in the fisting area was a bright idea, clearly doesn't fist! Fight me, I know how to butt box. But(t) jokes aside, this is not to overlook a logical reasoning for the choice of red light: that it softens or lessens the appearance of the markers of age, mainly wrinkles and scars but it's simply not practical for an area which has a primary purpose of anal exploration.
On the topic of sight, it's not rocket science but light makes the space automatically more accessible for someone such as myself who is as blind as a bat without his glasses, above all in the dark with a pup hood on which lessens other senses. Sometimes leashes are not luxuries.
Light at the end of the tunnel: towards emancipation and empowerment
There is no clear right or wrong answer here. Each of us leads different lives with our own experiences and complex needs, not to mention our competing desires. That's all valid.
Darkness has the power to liberate us but also to oppress us. Liberation is central to the history of our movement and community, whether it be political, social or indeed sexual liberation. I love bondage but I still believe that no one is truly free until we all are.
Although this debate around darkness and the need for light is still in its early stages, it is vital that it be placed within wider conversations happening in our community about how to best create and implement better practices, that ultimately, transform our sexualised spaces into inclusive ones that finally favour, emancipate and empower us all.
After all, rumour has it, out of darkness cums light, right?
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