Come for the intrigue, the approachable unknown, the titillating and the taboo. Stay for the joy, the community, and the artistry on full display. This evening with Shibari is the Way is one to remember.

LOLA BUNNY, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

A promise made is a promise you should probably keep.

When I met Ray Duran of Shibari is the Way about a month ago at the Chameleon, I was afraid my energy was off-putting. Like a piranha in a fishbowl, I was roving about, asking half-baked, if not patronizing questions to the effect of, “What’s this all about?” instead of covering my actual assignment upstairs. To my relief–both in the moment and in hindsight–I was met with kindness, information, and a standing invitation to attend one of their future events. Of course, I said I would— but like a friend from the past saying you should hang soon, very rarely, almost never do these things actually come to fruition. It wasn’t a lie on my part, per se, but rather something I figured I would back pocket until we ran into each other again sometime in the future. Besides, why would they even want me there? It’s not like I left the best impression. Imagine my pleasant surprise when an actual offer was extended to attend Shibari is the Way’s “Blizzard” event the following month.

Whether he knew it or not, he called my bluff. How could I refuse?

This is something of a recap: a brief saga encapsulating a variety of acts, a few hap dash interviews, an introduction to the show, an intermission, and something at the end to make it all make sense. If you didn’t have a chance to buy a ticket to the sold-out show, please indulge me with the opportunity to give you a play-by-play to the best of my recollection and recording.

THE LEAD UP AND LEAD IN: RAY & RAY

(L to R) RAY PIERRE AND RAY DURAN, CO-HOSTS OF SHIBARI IS THE WAY’S “BLIZZARD” EVENT, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

I’m back at the Chameleon, where this all began, only this time we’re upstairs. This is Shibari’s night, and from the jump it’s already packed. To my left, the merch table previews a variety of colored ropes in “wintery colors,” as the vendor, Dani, calls them. I’m greeted by Ray. He’s wearing an eye-popping holiday vest, smiling with contagious excitement. I get it— I would be smiling like that too if I saw this turnout. We don’t say much beyond the basic pleasantries before he rushes off to finish setting up. It’s only a few steps from where we’re standing to the end of the line at the bar, and it doesn’t take long for a few people to notice the cheap notepad in my hand and introduce themselves.

“Oh, you’re the news?” Someone asks. I laugh, I’m not really sure how to answer that without disappointing them.

Ten seconds in and I want to tell the whole wide world what’s going, if only to give them an opportunity to catch this feeling for themselves. Sure, I had caught a sliver of sunshine from these folks previously, but our interactions were fleeting– ten minutes in an evening of otherwise full-on foolishness. But tonight, every person I proceed to meet, one after another out of the two dozen or so I had the opportunity to chat with–even in passing–maintain the sincere sweetness at the risk of giving me a sugar rush.

I settle into my temporary seat for the start of the show, tilting my head around to really see exactly who I’m here with. It’s an unexpected mix of adults ranging from the freshly legal crowd to the far, far older. Some are in outfits–I saw one guy with a viking helmet, another woman in renaissance garb–but most look fresh from work or dolled up just enough for a night out. Up front are the VIPs, groups huddled around candle-lit tables. The energy here is familiar, if not familial, with far more people than available seats.

The show begins without much pomp or circumstance. Ray comes to the stage joined by his co-host, Ray Pierre, the Femboy Fatale. Besides their respective spectacles, they couldn’t be farther apart in appearance, which only adds to the comedy of two hosts with the same name. Though I’ll later come to find this is the latter Ray’s first emcee gig, the back and forth between the two is fun, kitschy and largely unforced.

Author’s note: for the sake of avoiding further confusion, from this point forward I will refer to Shibari is the Way’s founder Ray Duran as just “Ray”, and Ray Pierre as “Ray Pierre”.

Ray gets the first buzzword of the evening out quick: consent. With an extra emphasis on enthusiastic consent, it’s clear that this is the bedrock here. The crowd whoops in agreement with the core tenet as he explains that while folks are allowed to participate with performers if they are approached, they can opt out at any time by crossing their arms in an “X”. That out of the way, Ray introduces the Kittens, a group of volunteers and performers who’ll be milling about the crowd accepting donations. Center amongst the kittens is Ray’s wife, and partner in Shibari is the Way, Aley Kitten.

Following this are mentions of door prizes (which I’m sorry to report, I did not win) from local businesses Siberian Health and Body Works, Bubblegum Tattoo, and Spokane’s local Adam & Eve location. Additionally, we’re told if anyone buys a rope at the merch table they can come up on stage during intermission and be tied up by one of Shibari’s resident “Riggers”, someone trained in tying or securing these types of rope.

It’s clear that when there’s even something going on during the intermission, there’s not going to be a wasted minute over the next three hours. And with that, they introduce the first act of the evening…

Fizzy and Foxxxy

As the projected backdrop behind them fills with snowfall, the pair of women strutting to center stage are dressed in fitting winter-themed outfits, jackets and tight shorts. Their movements are sharp, deliberate even as they undress each other with the slow burn of seduction. Jackets slipping from both of their shoulders, they’re ready to heat themselves against the imagined cold with only each other. They dance in tight, centrifugal loops, lifting and raising as their bodies pivot around one another like snow angels often found in flight giving a preview for us here at the ground floor.

The first time I see Fizzy raise Foxxxy above herself with only the power of her legs, I let an audible “woah” escape my mouth. I can’t catch it. I don’t want to catch it. We’re one act gone and I’m locked in.

Allison Bossanova

This is classic burlesque, methodically crafted.

Like a bottle of heirloom cognac uncorked just for the occasion, this performance set to Sylvia Black’s cover of “I Put A Spell On You” warms with a slow deliberate burn in its tease. With every sway, the anticipation of the crowd visibly builds. No false moves, no wasted motion, only ignited curiosity as the peeling of the figurative glove presents itself before our very eyes as the removal of a dark veil, followed by a dress to reveal a leather ensemble that radiates this seductive power that keeps the crowd gripped and gasping till the last word of the song.

Without giving anything away, we’ll see Allison Bossanova later on in the evening showcasing a different skill. But even if this performance at the start of the show was all we had to remember her by for the rest of the evening, the impression would be bound to linger and last for so long I wouldn’t be shocked if it changed the color of the walls.

KWispy

KRISPY, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

When Kwispy comes out, I have no idea what I’m in for. Wearing a Krampus-inspired mask, corresponding overstuffed sack in tow, there’s a beat of anticipation then, suddenly—light. I wasn’t expecting this rave-adjacent act, but then the obvious smacks me dead in the face:

Expect the unexpected.

The LEDs on his hands and sticks dance in wild, unpredictable patterns, like little neon ghosts twisting and flickering in the air, while this Krampus mask—with the face, the horns, whole bit—adds a layer of menacing horror to the whole thing. But candidly I’m not looking at the mask much, and I don’t even make note of the sack till he takes it offstage because he’s so technically impressive with the lights it’s hard to factor in anything else. All by design, I imagine.

Aly (Lady D Wintour)

Another solo performance. Aly, introduced as Lady D Wintour, takes the stage and moves around a simple black folding chair, laid on its side as she dances before setting it up and doing a hand stand on it. It’s engaging, evocative, even emotionally raw for a moment, and I don’t have much time to really take it all in before—just like that—she vanishes.

Scanning the space from my vantage point, closer to stage left, I legitimately can’t figure out where she went. It’s not like the Chameleon is that big. Then, just as I think that maybe that was the whole thing, she reappears. Smack dab in the heat of the crowd, with a full costume change from blue to white, the stage suddenly feels moot, and the performance is everywhere.

When I find her later, she’ll admit that there was some sort of snafu in the costume change. Could have fooled me. I’m still trying to figure out how she did it.

Hailey

This is our first look of the evening at real rope work.

Hailey, specifically introduced before the first act of the evening as one of Shibari’s riggers, brings co-host Ray Pierre on stage as her “Bunny”, which I come to learn is a rope play term for the bound party. Though this performance doesn’t come out swinging with the immediate spectacle or flashiness of the preceding acts, it doesn’t have to. Hailey’s a pro, an artisan of this sensual craft as I come to understand it, cheery and calm as the rope dances through her fingers; I can tell each knot is a little deliberate dialogue steeped in trust and exploration. On the floor, she starts at Ray’s ankles, before looping the free rope through a small silver circle hanging from the ceiling.

To the sound of Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure”, she pulls on the rope until he is fully suspended upside down, top of head less than a foot from floor, spinning in time with the music. After a moment the ropes fall slowly as our co-host softly hits the floor with Hailey there to greet him. She asks him, “Are you okay?”

Fortunately, he is, and they embrace to the cheers of the crowd.

NIKITA ROMANOff, PUP ARSON, AND DANNI

NIKITA ROMANOFF, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

Next up—at nearly seven feet tall in heels—the oft described “Black Widow Empress of Spokane” casts an imposing figure atop the stage. In an ensemble that I can only describe as Marilyn Manson meets the works of Guillermo Del Toro, she follows a brief procession consisting of a blindfolded woman with two “Pups” linked with snow white chains.

It’s a different type of provocative; eerie, macabre, a beautiful sort of horrific. To a heavy metal soundtrack, I’m again intrigued by the aesthetic variety of the talented performers I’ve seen thus far. It’s dangerous, a different sort of choreography than what’s come before, full tilt drag at its darkest and most rightly demanding of attention.

Later, towards the back half of the show, Nikita will return to the stage with her Pups for a reprisal, jolting the crowd with every flick of her wrist. Both performances have the people captivated, caught in this fun little web of shadows and light.

VIOLENT VIOLET AND PAPA HOOCH

This is impact play.

It’s a type of BDSM activity that’s commonly associated with the acronym by those (including myself) who find themselves not particularly in the know. This is where striking the body becomes an intricate dance of sensation and emotion. Each smack or slap communicates trust and consent, building this rich, dense narrative of intimacy and exploration between willing partners.

With Violet on the spanking bench—an object my eyes interpret as looking like a sawhorse crossed with the weird little bed you sit on at the doctor’s off—Papa Hooch positions himself behind her. It starts rather jarring: spanking with a flogger and switches, a brief flurry of punches to her backside. My mind races, my uncultured nerves start to tense, like—how far is this going to go? Then he moves away, removes his shirt, and grips himself to the pole at stage right. She gets up from the bench and—with some sort of cat of nine tails—whips his back. The intensity is matched at a boiling point, a real give and emphatic take. They embrace with a passionate kiss to end the performance and I feel my nerves my nerves come down.

For the interloper like me, this is the perfect clinic of sorts for what impact play actually is: not necessarily some act of violence thinly veiled with a hint of sex, but rather an intimately coordinated exchange of aggression. Two partners, onstage, exploring the thrilling terrain between pleasure and pain as they exorcise the traumas and pain of life and our most adversarial inner selves.

INTERMISSION

(L to R) THE BUNNIES: SAMMIE, KATIE, AND LOLA BUNNY, photo by Lovely Raven Photography.

The music’s low, and about half of the long-seated stage crowd are on their feet now. A line forms onstage with people holding their purchased ropes, all ready to be tied up as promised. The riggers are quick, efficient, tying each participant across their chest in a weave that happens so fast you wouldn’t be shamed for thinking they just pulled the knots over the top of their heads and slid it on like a tube top.

I’m back on my bullshit, doing my best to ask questions while I take in everything that's come before. I’m in country now—so to speak—and this is the best opportunity I’ll have to talk to the locals without having to shout. I prepare my standard line of questions: hard-hitting inquiries like, “Is this your first show?” and “How did you find this place?”

I talk to a few of the Bunnies, some the of the recent performers too, but I find most of my questions are fielded by those not directly involved with the show: the ticket-buying set, the crowd. At no point during any of these exchanges did I feel unwelcome or intentionally misled. Instead, I was gifted rather honest, thoughtful, often surprisingly candid responses that delved deep into both past and present. I keep hearing the same few commons words sprinkled between each of these stories:

Community. Inclusivity. Acceptance. Love. Family. Friendship.

Now, in a vacuum I can understand how somebody might see these words back-to-back and worry that I may have found myself in some sort of pseudo-religious movement that will soon be asking for all my money and free time, before requiring something far more sinister once the hooks are too deep to dig out. But in this case, I seem to have made my way into an environment that offers the promise of each word without a catch. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and squash me like a bug, but it never comes. I’m convinced it’s never going to come. Nobody here is asking anything of me other than for me to just be myself. And while that should be the rule anywhere you go, we all know that’s not what it’s like out there, which is why I’m awe-struck by how real it is here. There’s this uninterruptible and unfettered honesty about it all, a small oasis of community with no bar for entry.

On to the back half of the show…

PHYREXIAN ODYSSEY

As the long-haired woman in tall heels moves delicately about the stage, the soft guitar of the music that plays over her transports me some place far away from here; some honky-tonk or wood panel-walled dive bar deep in the heat off a desert highway that only exists in movies or American myth. She fits with the imagery somehow, projecting this timelessness that I can’t quite put my finger on.

A solitary figure bathed in red light, her performance takes her to the floor. When she rises, she takes to the back of the stage and picks up a hoop that was— even from my close proximity to the stage—completely hidden in darkness until it reached her hands. The music picks up, and the hoop seems to steal some of the spotlight’s power as it glows. Dancing with the hoop to the conclusion, I’m sincerely moved by this performance in two-parts.

Princess Pickles

So, I spotted Princess Pickles from the moment she walked into the venue. Even in a room full of characters, it’s clear that this one is a character all unto herself.

Dressed like Frozen’s Elsa if the movie was made for Tubi, this drag performance includes a glitter chair, two giant dick inflatables, pasties, condoms. It’s a hilarious, positively obnoxious, overtly ultra-sexual routine set to a parody of “Let it Go” fittingly titled, “I’m a Hoe”. The lyrics are so extreme that, combined with everything else going on in front of me, I can’t exactly tell what I’m laughing at, but I know I’m far from alone in the laughter because it just keeps going, even after she’s left the stage.

Clearly a fan favorite, it doesn’t take much convincing to believe the hype. She’ll tell me later that she was inspired to perform only a few years ago, after turning 40. I’m thoroughly she’s a superhero.

EVERMORE

Fun fact: what I had called “hoop stuff” until this point is actually referred to as Lyra.

Starting at the front of the stage, Evermore moves evocatively for a few precious moments to engage the crowd before she inevitably climbs into the red hoop hanging behind her. Shedding her ivory cape, she turns to the unmistakable center piece. She doesn’t take long, launching her heels up and gripping the hoop before pulling herself up with a feat of core strength.

It’s captivating. Regardless of whether the artist is suspended five, or fifty feet from the stage floor, there’s something with this type of imagery that sticks in the collective consciousness in a way that prevents you from looking away from it. She sways and suspends herself, blending athleticism and artistic expression. She’s a professional—a frequent performer amongst the group—and it shows. But what strikes me as much as the obvious ability on display is the vulnerability. Like a songbird in a cage, whether the door is open or not, she’s perched above us all, alone, and we’re all eyes.

In my mind, one of the simplest givens of effective artistry is its ability to make you feel so deeply that you can’t help but reflect on a memory, or an abstract. These few minutes in particular find me stuck on the word vulnerability— something most often maligned as synonymous with weakness, or gift wrapped with sympathy or an apology. But with Evermore, this vulnerability is powerful, commanding, an impressive act of risk in the face of fear and danger that doesn’t invite voyeurism, but rather reverence.

Warren and Binky

(L to R) BINKY AND WARREN, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

The second impact play performance of the evening, Warren and Binky’s performance cuts an immediate contrast with the previous use of the spanking bench. Dressed as the Ice King and Princess Bubblegum, respectively, from the Cartoon Network classic Adventure Time, it’s clearly tongue-in-cheek.

It’s also dizzying, slapstick and—even considering what’s preceded them—insane, zigging when you’re absolutely positive it’s about to zag. Warren (figuratively) whips up the crowd as he (literally) whips Binky to a fast paced nu metal-sounding beat, wielding flogs like nunchucks and spanking her with the beat. As the music turns to an even more unhinged hyperpop cover of “Maniac”, Warren, stripped down to sparkly, metallic short shorts, makes use of Binky’s backside as a pair bongos before swinging on the pole and enthusiastically taking slaps to his own back with a few performative, pleasured gasps of “OOOOHHHHH!”

When the music stops and they leave the stage I feel like I have to come down from this energy or else I’ll risk breaking through the ceiling.

Allison Bossanova’s Encore

The pole has been a bit player throughout the night, a plus-one for a few acts that largely relied on something else. But here it’s center stage.

Allison’s beside me as I’ve embedded myself at this point behind the side stage for a better view of the last few acts. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the hard-working crew that includes the likes of sweet guys named Connor and Icarus, Allison stretches and takes a deep breath. Not sure what to do with my hands, we share a fist bump as she makes her way to the pole.

I say this without a lick of hyperbole— this is as close to a masterclass in the artform as I can interpret. It’s true talent and well-honed ability conveying this ballet of muscle and movement. It’s a late game revelation, an invitation for spectators to shed preconceived notions-if they somehow still had any at this point-and embrace the emotionally charged engine powering the dance. Her essence laid bare, the whole place crackles with an electric beauty.

Lola Bunny and Aley Kitten; the Finale

(L to R) LOLA BUNNY AND ALEY KITTEN, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

Here we are, at the end of the show. In an evening that’s had everything from little twirling lights to dick balloons, it’s only fitting that the final act reminds us of one of the many reasons why we are here, the name on the all of the posters: Shibari.

Aley Kitten, who until now has been working both the floor as one of the Kittens and working backstage coordinating each act, takes the stage this time as a rigger. Her Bunny is the aptly named Lola Bunny, a blue-haired woman in a blue dress, with fittingly blue lipstick and eyeshadow.

Like Hailey and Ray Pierre before them, the lead-up isn’t the showiest of parts. The familiar silver ring back in play above their heads, Lola lies with her back to Aley as her limbs and mid-section are tied one by one. Even from my close view, it still feels a little like a magic trick. To some degree or another, everyone knows at least one knot, but this is bordering on no mere parlor trick, but actual mysterious spell craft. When it comes together, the intricacy is most easily observed in the delicate balance between the gentle binding loop, and the firm, cinching pull that confirms the knot. Within moments, Lola is hoisted in the air by a full weave that logically should’ve taken ten times as long to compose.

The ropes themselves are a tapestry, neat and organized, woven with one another like they came through a loom. Even as they serve their practical role, holding Lola with minimal sway as Aley begins to flog her, the art of Shibari appears clearer than ever to me in both practice and purpose.

It’s a fitting end for the show.

Post Show: A Conversation with the Minds Behind Shibari is the way

(L to R) ALEY KITTEN AND RAY DURAN OF SHIBARI IS THE WAY, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

Now the lights are dimming, and the ropes are down. Our co-hosts Ray and Ray Pierre say their goodnights, encourage everyone to get home safe, and all the performers who have stayed through the show come together for a final bow.

As the crowd makes their way to the door many linger for long goodbyes. There’s an air of graciousness, a lot of excitement and mentions of the next show that is nearly sold out, there’s drawn out hugs and loud, loud laughter. I can’t leave just yet, I have to know more. My question of “What is this?” from last month has quickly turned into “How did you make all this possible?”So, nestled in a corner both as the staff of the Chameleon close shop, I sit down with Ray, Aley Kitten, and eventually Ray Pierre to ask a few final questions about Shibari is the Way.

I start with Ray and Aley, the happily married couple, about how they each entered the world of rope play.

The beginning brings us back twenty years ago, at the height of War on Terror, when Ray was serving as a military police officer. Together with a former partner, the two introduced handcuffs into their intimate activities. Handcuffs later gave way to ropes, and now we are. In contrast, before she met Ray, Aley was not personally acquainted with rope play. But after meeting her now-husband as “shitposters” online, she approached the interest with a politely open-minded curiosity.

“We were stealing each other's memes for like a year. And then I took her out on a date with me.” Ray says, though quickly clarifies, “Which wasn’t even really a date. I actually asked her to be a bunny for me for one of the classes I was teaching.”

When asked how that experience was for her, it’s clear it wasn’t a tough sell for Aley. “It was very interesting and exciting. I kind of jumped in headfirst,” she laughs as she adds, “I went to rope class with him, and I liked him, and I moved in next week.” Together for four years now, she admits:

“It would be scary. But we’re married now.”

Given that the relationship started outside of the internet with rope play, I’m wondering if that immediate dive into an activity so vulnerable was at least some small factor in creating the kind of love that produces quick cohabitation. “We did it before we knew we really knew each other. We met and we were doing rope stuff,” Aley says. “But it does deepen bonds. Because you do have to have that trust, and that working together, the cooperation to really figure out how the tie works on the bunny’s body. You have to be able to work together, cooperate, and trust each other.”

Next, I want to understand Shibari is the Way as a business. Yes, “Shibari” is the catch-all term for some when referring to this loose community, but officially Shibari is the Way–four-word full name as advertised–is a business; not only holding events like these, but also hosting classes while selling merchandise both directly, and their nationwide partner Adam & Eve.

Ray starts from a few years back, “So I was doing this for a while, but it was a side gig,” he says. “I was teaching classes every now and then, I would go to a play party or something like that. Rigging people up if they asked me, stuff like that, basically doing something called ‘service topping.’” He goes on to describe a period in which, shortly after shacking up with Aley, his boss at his former day job working in the judicial system discovered his side gig. “My boss thought it was disgusting,” he said. “So the next eight months of my life were hell.” He continues, “While she was making my life hell, I kind of looked over at Kitten and looked for an exit strategy, because I don’t know how long I could do this with her acting this way towards me.”

It was ultimately Aley’s encouragement that pushed Ray to make the business of Shibari his full-time focus. “For the next eight months it was basically burning the candle at both ends. I was working my 9-to-5, and on the back end I was working another forty hours building this.” He adds, “And at some point in time, I realized I was making more money on the other end than my 9-to-5, so I pulled the trigger and jumped. That was over two years ago now.” Now, as both owners and sole employees of their business, Ray and Aley have managed to create a diversified revenue stream that includes rope sales (which they cut and dye in-house), play parties, instructional classes, photoshoots, and of course shows like tonight’s. There's clearly a lot that goes into this, but it’s already clear to me that Ray and Aley’s abundant love and care for one another seems to touch every service they provide.

RAY DURAN, FOUNDER OF SHIBARI IS THE WAY, photo by Lovely Raven Photography

We’re joined at this point by Ray Pierre, who slides into the opposite end of the booth. Now that he’s released from his co-hosting duties, I ask him how he became involved with the show. In his very early twenties, Ray Pierre is still new to the bar scene and originally found Shibari is the Way via Facebook. Though he was just shy of the legal age to attend the event that first caught his attention, he kept tabs on their socials. “We eventually went to the classes, which we didn’t need to wait for,” Ray Pierre says, referring to both him and a friend. “My partner, my friend Aspen and I, we were the only people who showed up for that particular class. So we had a one-on-one situation there, and it was fun.” He continues, “It was a month or so after I turned 21 that we went to our first show.” From that first show, it didn’t take long for the other Ray to quickly recognize his sense of humor and stage presence.

Going off of his personal story, I point out the obvious wide demographic diversity of the crowd. With so many different walks of life coming through the door for such a specific-type of event, where do you find the commonalities? What’s the center of the community?

Inclusivity is the quick consensus pick. Ray adds, “It’s inclusivity, with mutual respect and consent.” He explains, “So anybody that's within the community–at least anyone who is really in the community–most of these people are educated about what’s going on. They may be educated in poly aspects, or other aspects.” He continues, “But it’s all based on consent and trust and that seems to be one of the things about this community that I love so much. Because you can meet somebody, and understand they have consent things going on between them, whether it’s impact, or rope play. It’s all based on consent.”

Ray Pierre adds, “Something I think pulls a lot of people together too is curiosity.” He elaborates, “The willingness to learn new experiences. Finding things, whether or not they’re interested in it. Something I relate to a lot is learning everything I can about the different experiences people have.” Gesticulating out to the space, packed just minutes ago, he sums it up: “A lot of people who never came to this before, they were curious. They showed up, now they know.”

Considering what I’ve observed tonight, especially at the start of the night, I ask how many of the people who come to these shows are actually familiar faces. Ray has the rough numbers ready: “At the beginning, we had a fifty percent overturn. That steadily went down, and we’re sitting at about eighty percent of people coming back, twenty percent are new.” But there’s a catch to the success rate. Ray explains, “So now with the twenty percent of people who are new every round, it’s actually making it difficult to reach new people, and our shows are selling out quicker and quicker.” We agree that it’s a good problem to have, but he says, “But at the same time, I really want new people to experience this.” Asking the obvious, I float the prospect of hosting at another local venue with more capacity to fit the growing demand. According to Ray and Aley, it’s not that simple. “I don’t know if those spaces would hold something like this, because of the content,” Ray says.

Final question: if anything, what does Shibari is the Way want people to know about them? What’re the common myths that need dispelling?

“Honestly, what we’re doing here isn’t some deep dark secret. What we’re actually doing here is art. And when I say it’s art, it’s just artistic expression. We’re out here doing what we do.” He continues, “It’s fun, it’s beautiful, it’s gorgeous. And I want people to understand that they shouldn’t be scared to come into something like this and see what’s going on.” He concludes, “I think a lot more people, if they came in and actually saw this, it might make them open their eyes and help them understand that this is a comfortable, and safe environment for people to be in.”

So what might he say to the complete outsider? How do you win over the ignorant, the uninformed, those who want to make a snap judgement as they swipe past some of the more provocative advertising that Shibari is the Way puts out?

“Not everything is for everybody. If you’re comfortable, by all means come. If you think it might be upsetting to see something like this, please don’t come.” Ray says, leaving me with a simple standing invitation for any drinking-age adult with even a hint of curiosity:

“It’s safe. It’s comfortable. Come enjoy the art.”

Interview over, and the late night nearly behind me as I step out into the cold, I can still feel that early jolt of surprise from the start of the show lingering in my gut. I can’t say exactly what I was thinking when I was walking in tonight, but I'm glad Ray called my bluff. And just as the case was when I walked in, I’m not walking out of here an expert in kink or anything, that said I did learn something:

This isn’t some dark and gross cult of sex-crazed maniacs, or some weird long-con pyramid scheme to buy and sell dyed ropes for creative bindings. This is a family business, and beyond that these are honest, joyful, beautifully normal people who come together time and again to find and build community as they celebrate one another in their love, their expression, and their art. And in this dim, often unfortunate era where every unmarketable quirk and difference seems to be under some looming threat of consequence or active prejudice, where words like inclusivity are loudly framed as negative by ghouls and charlatans, it’s easy to lose all the color in your life sometimes.

But finding this place, meeting all of these people in particular just stands to remind me that there’s still good somewhere, often shining where you’d never think to look.

The Happiest Place on Earth: Shibari is the Way Revisited