Rope Is for Every Body

You’ve been lied to. Trained to believe there’s only one kind of body that belongs in rope—slender, small, silent. To be hung like meat. Obedient and aesthetic.

You’ve been starved on a diet of sameness. The same images, the same silhouettes, the same bodies looped and lifted as if worth can be measured

But I’m not here to offer comfort. I’m here to burn down illusions. whispering truths to the willing. And I say this now, with fire in my gut and reverence in my hands:

Rope is for Every Body.

I’ve seen too many souls turn away from the altar because their body didn’t match the propaganda.Because they didn’t look like the rope virgins paraded on page after page of curated feeds—fragile, bird-boned, suspended like relics in a gallery.

They ask me, : “Do I belong?”
And my answer is always: If you have breath in your lungs and blood in your veins. This art is yours,

But let’s name the demon: Rope culture as it stands is saturated in the worship of a singular aesthetic. You search “Shibari” or “Rope Play” and you’ll find an ocean of low-BMI bodies. A flood of the familiar. Rarely a ripple of difference. We inherited this from Japan

And what happens when the zealots of the West try to replicate what they do not understand?
We end up building temples where only the thin feel welcome.

I don’t tie rope to please a camera or win a crowd. I tie rope to summon power. To invoke transformation. To crack open shame and pour salve into burning wounds. if you bring your body to me, no matter its size, I will honor it with the same hunger and heat as any other. Because this practice isn’t about shrinking—it’s about becoming.

In my temple, flesh is sacred. Thickness is worshipped. Scars are sacred. And every rope I tie is a hymn to the holy monster in you.

To those of you who feel like outsiders, know this:
You were never meant to shrink yourself to be seen.
You were meant to be bound in the fullness of who you are.
And if they’ve never made space for your body in their ropes—then they never deserved your submission to begin with.

Rope is not just for the pretty. It’s for the primal. The wounded. The voluptuous. The venerated. The hungry.

Rope is for Every Body.

It is the prayer.
It is the offering.
It is the altar.

Let the others tie for beauty. I tie for ecstasy.

And if you’re ready to enter, step through the threshold.
I’ll be waiting—hands outstretched, rope in hand, ready to bind your doubt