In 2016, I left South Africa for the first time. I was 23 years old and headed to Brisbane in Australia to perform research work towards my MSc degree. I often credit the University of Cape Town for unwittingly funding my bondage education, as every time I traveled abroad for academic conferences or student exchanges, I took private lessons or attended workshops paid for with my bursaries.
In Brisbane, I saw Japanese-style rope bondage for the first time and was enchanted, as I’m sure anyone reading this was the first time you were exposed to this medium. There is something so magical about learning shibari, this way of relating, this language, this dance. It is both complex and simple, technical and emotional, terrifying and illuminating. I attended as many peer rope events as I could, which, to be honest, was not as many as I would have liked. Even though they were accessibly priced for the Australian market, my South African rands didn’t get me very far.
of_rope_and_other_demons and vroeteldier.kinbaku I somehow managed to persuade a few other kinksters… to start a rope collective with me called RopeyThings. I liked the name because it felt accessible. It felt comfortable and inviting… When I came home starry-eyed, I felt a desperate need to share what I had learnt with others. I was determined to replicate something akin to peer rope in South Africa. I somehow managed to persuade a few other kinksters, specifically SmilyBorg and SungaKonji (an African rope artist whose perspective in rope is largely uninfluenced by Western or Eastern rope traditions) to start a rope collective with me called RopeyThings. I liked the name because it felt accessible. It felt comfortable and inviting, and low-pressure for the attendees and for us as space holders. I wanted to lower the barrier for those who would like to attend but, like me when I was visiting Australia, couldn’t afford to. We ran these jams ad hoc, when we had capacity or ideas to share. Mostly we taught very, very basic ties – the ones we felt comfortable with sharing. We didn’t teach any suspensions – only floor-based ties – for years.
vroeteldier.kinbaku and charliefrench Early challenges opening a new rope space There were several issues I encountered in the early days. Getting reasonable rope to tie with was one of them. The best thing we could get locally was very low quality 7mm jute from the hardware store. I treated this rope excessively to make it vaguely usable, but the fibers were short and prickly. It was also very thick, leaving little margin for error when applied to a body. The alternatives were cotton sash cord or very soft hemp rope, which would hold knots too well, making them difficult to untie. My prayers to the bondage gods were heard when a local supplier, Sudo Jute , opened up an online bondage-focused jute store based in South Africa. The price of quality jute rope itself remains a high barrier to entry for even the most privileged aspiring riggers. Buying even one good rope in South Africa is a luxury to most of our attendees.
The price of quality jute rope itself remains a high barrier to entry… Buying even one good rope in South Africa is a luxury to most of our attendees. Being geographically and economically isolated, another difficulty was not having any shibari educators visiting our shores to teach. Even if they would visit, there was no money to pay them or house them for the duration of their stay. In 2018, I was lucky to meet Benjamin Langholz, an American artist, when he traveled to South Africa for our regional Burning Man event AfrikaBurn. I practically forced him to teach us the Kinoko-style TK he had learnt, and some of the suspension forms. This injection of input into my own rope practice carried me for years. Understanding how to tie a TK correctly opened up many avenues for me – other ties suddenly felt less complex and more decipherable. It was a turning point for me. Having my own cup filled enabled me to continue filling the cups of others. I continued to teach basic ties for a few years, but with renewed vigor.
gr_entrapta Opening a physical space The pandemic changed everything. It was devastating on so many levels, including its impact on our rope community. Like so many other rope communities globally, we were unable to organize in-person events. My hands were tied (unfortunately, only metaphorically) and so I incubated. I dreamt about what I wanted to see for the South African rope scene. I wanted to create a physical space where we could invite both local and international presenters. Even if it failed, I wanted to show my community what was possible for us. I also wanted to imbue this space with a more ‘yin’ flavor of tying, creating a space for gentleness, softness and space-holding with this medium. It felt at odds with our needs in South Africa to try to transplant the torturous ways of tying I had seen in the other parts of the world here (although, of course, these are valid ways of tying if done consensually). South African people have endured the highest rates of sexual violence in the world . Gentleness is a more pressing need. I wanted to give people a space to recover from wounds old and new. In post-apartheid, post-pandemic South Africa, we desperately need a soft landing. I believe in the potential of rope to be a medium of healing and community-building, and so my partner in rope and life Simone (aka Vroeteldier) and I birthed Embodiment Rope Space in 2021.
In post-apartheid, post-pandemic South Africa, we desperately need a soft landing. I believe in the potential of rope to be a medium of healing and community-building… The establishment of a physical space and the consistency this provided enabled our community to grow rapidly. Miraculously, people keep showing up to our space. It meets a deep need for many. It gives people permission to center their pleasure and joy. I am constantly overwhelmed by the generosity of spirit shown by those who inhabit the space. Our core team of two has grown to three (FaerieBunnyRope is the real MVP) with five additional volunteers who help hold the space. We are a team reflective of diverse life experiences and I’m really proud of the progress we are making. We host rope jams every Thursday night and weekend workshops around every two months. In the last few months, we were blessed to host Mango (certified Kanna-ryu instructor and rope educator with CORE-Ottawa) and Caritia (of OhYesPlease and Karada House in Berlin) back-to-back. We didn’t imagine this was possible even a year ago.
ropefu and fynbosfae
In our work with cultivating rope as a pleasure practice in South Africa, something that Simone and I desperately did not want to create was a self-indulgent playground for the most privileged in our society. Having a sustainable space wherein people can develop their technical and interpersonal skills, grow, challenge their assumptions and experience pleasure is the goal. To quote friend of the space, queer feminist trailblazer and aspiring margarita influencer Mamello Sejake (@tswanahippie), ‘Pleasure is our birthright.’
Online platforms like Shibari Study make this birthright more accessible. Although a subscription is definitely a luxury for many of us, for us right now, this is significantly more accessible than flying presenters to South Africa. It has lowered the barrier for us and allows us to access quality education. We are investigating ways to integrate this teaching tool into our in-person events because there are limits to what we can offer people. Being realistic about our limitations enables us to clearly communicate these and build trust with those who look to us to help develop their skill.
If you find yourself wanting to visit the beautiful city of Cape Town, South Africa, come and visit us! You can find out more about us and our space at www.embodimentropespace.co.za and follow us on Instagram @embodiment_ct.
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