by PARKER PENN AKA THE VILLAINELLE
Daddy is a dirty word, a two-syllable slap. Daddy is a size-queen’s 8-inch silicone strap.
I’ll qualify this piece now to get it out of the way: these interpretations of what Daddy energy is, or what being a Daddy means, are my own and unabashedly reflect my bias as a queer, nonbinary femme sex worker. It should also be recognized that the “Daddy” archetype exists with varying symbolisms in different subcultures like gay leather communities—referring to communities of gay men and leatherdykes—and sex workers engaging in sugaring dynamics as well as to a plethora of individuals.1 These subcultures have influenced my own definitions by means of inspiration and through selective rejection of principles. For example, the gay leather community adopted and honed the identity of the D/s Daddy many decades before I even had my first underage drink in 2001 at the iconic SF lesbian bar The Lexington (RIP) and before The Straights(TM) appropriated it into contemporary kink.
