Since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a lawyer.

I come from a family of lawyers. Corporate, commercial real estate, ambulance chasers–there’s even a budding politician. One uncle is a former corporate law attorney turned businessman who sits on boards of Fortune 500 companies. My aunts have all worked for large firms in Manhattan, Seattle, San Francisco, and Chicago. They have attended top 10 law schools. My aunts know multiple languages, have practiced extensively, and then when they had children with their equally impressive husbands, left law to care for their offspring. Such is life. (That was their choice to make, and I commend them for it as it is truly what they wanted. Being mostly raised by nannies myself when living with my father, I appreciate their desire to raise their children themselves.)

So far, no one has dipped into the pool of human rights law, which is where I dreamed I would end up after undergrad. The majority of my research had focused on human rights issues in regards to women and children. While president of my university’s Model UN club (not as obnoxious as it sounds – okay, it totally is), I always sat on the Economic and Social Council, 3rd Committee (Social, Humanitarian and Cultural Committee), etc.; UN bodies that primarily deal with issues affecting minorities, women, children, social, familial, economic, cultural, and generally, humanitarian issues.

I felt alive – thrilled to be role-playing a delegate with my research and previous knowledge as my armor in my brain and my binder: able to descend into battle by quickly dissecting and pointing out other delegates’ argument flaws mid-speech. Remembering passages verbatim without looking at my notes. Recalling past resolutions that had already addressed said issues. Passing resolutions with consensus. Rallying the troops with my giggle and determination.

I have a knack for arguing.

I learned it from my father, who, if I wanted something bad enough, requested I come up with a flawless argument to persuade him to buy it for me. These reports were to be complete with PowerPoint and/or drawn out charts, with research to back it up.

I want to dive into global inequality for women and leave a little thumbprint of good. Okay, great, egregious humble bragging aside, what’s the problem here, Claire? You’ve been dealt the silver spoon of the law on your side. Take the LSAT, apply to school, practice law. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

Except…

I’m kinky. Not like “oh I really love it when my boyfriend pats my bottom and pulls my hair a little bit”. I’m talking like sadomasochism, dominant/submissive; I am a card carrying member at a BDSM club, kinky.

I could very well go to law school. I’ve met a handful of kinky lawyers and judges and police officers and pre-school teachers. We’re kinky people, but we’re people, after all.

Kink and my submission fulfill a deep, wonderful need in me. I have amazing partners with whom I have built a negotiated, consensual trust based on mutual respect and love. Kumbaya all day long while in leather and chains, but don’t do a trust fall with that sadist! Because he’ll laugh his ass off when he doesn’t catch you. On purpose.

I had the following exchange with the first guy I was kinky with, who has remained a wonderful friend and mentor, after thinking about law school for the umpteenth time (we’ll call him “J”):

J:

It makes sense. You want to practice international law in the realm of human rights. My only concern is your sexual appetite. You indulge within the extent of the law but purist minds could accuse you of having compromised morals. And if you are going to work with adolescents who have been taken advantage of sexually, our society would rather you have a strong moral code in sync with the societal moral code. I’m not saying you shouldn’t pursue this, I’m just saying this may be challenging due to your/our values.

Me:

Sigh.

J:

Go for it, but hey, this is what you may encounter.

Me:

Damn. I wouldn’t want a case to be acquitted because the morality of my client’s counsel comes into question…

An obvious answer would be to get off of FetLife (the Facebook of kink), and attempt to remove all my kinky activities from public eye. To stop sexting or emailing pictures. Shut down my blog. The recent NSA/Snowden showdown has made me hyperaware of my digital footprint, but has that stopped me from posting pictures of my face on my FetLife profile? No.

I’m not quite sure how to continue. Being out in the lifestyle has afforded me the opportunity to learn from other people, explore my fetishes and my innermost desires in a safe, sane, consensual environment. It’s given me the ability to vet partners and meet people I can talk about anal plug tails and the recent Game of Thrones episode in one conversation without skipping a beat.

I could marry someone kinky (because yes, I want to get married), carry on with a job/career that affords me a relative amount of privacy, continue to be kinky and out in the lifestyle, and call it a day.

Or I could push it down and mentally reserve it for private, bedroom/home-only play. Not attend educational events or play parties. Not mentor younger, more inexperienced submissives. But! Afford me the luxury of pursuing a pipeline dream with the support of my family and friends. All the while dying a little bit inside from not being my honest self.

Or, could I be out and a lawyer?