In his seminal book about toxic shame, author John Bradshaw argues that shame, as a healthy human emotion, can be transformed into a state of being, taking over one's whole identity. Once internalised, it becomes a lens through which a person understands themselves and their place in the world. Shame shapes identity by convincing us that our flaws are evidence of defectiveness instead of ordinary aspects of being human. It alters perception, making rejection appear inevitable, mistakes feel catastrophic, and vulnerability seem dangerous. It influences decision-making in ways that often remain invisible, driving people toward perfectionism, people-pleasing, self-sabotage, withdrawal, or relentless achievement in search of worth. Beneath many anxieties about success, relationships, appearance, status, and belonging lies a deeper fear of exposure: the fear that if others truly see us, they will discover something fundamentally wrong. 

As someone who has lived and loved under the reign of shame, I find nothing bigger a threat to its hold than kink, in both its exploration and expression. In the same way people turn to therapy, meditation, religion, fitness, or other forms of self-work to understand themselves better, I see kink can serve a similar function, and so do many others. There is a reason CEOs, billionaires, and other high-powered executives have long been associated with professional dominatrixes: as a space to submit, to relinquish total control to a confident, authoritative figure, providing profound mental release and an escape from the high-stakes control and hyper-accountability of their daily lives. In some cases, mindful kink has also been said to overwrite and resolve past traumas by acting as ‘shadow work’, building trust, connection, and community and assisting with ‘psychological and somatic healing’.

From the outside, kink is often dismissed as ‘naughty’ — deviant, excessive, or purely sexual. Popular culture has spent decades presenting it through that lens. Yet people who actually participate in these communities know what it can offer — trust, intimacy, self-knowledge, emotional release, and a stronger sense of who they are, which is a powerful feat.  

In her work 'Belonging & the Scene', Indian visual artist Monica Dhaka aims to capture the same side of kink through a conversation with Dutch Pup Momo, a member of the puppy play community, a form of roleplay that explores playfulness, submission, companionship, and alternative expressions of self. Through Momo's reflections, the visual work moves away from the sensationalized image of kink that often dominates focusing instead on the emotional realities of the people who inhabit these spaces. Momo speaks about community, acceptance, and the freedom that comes from being able to express desires and identities without fear of judgment. The film situates kink within a broader conversation about belonging, showing how communities built around consensual practices can offer refuge from the shame, secrecy, and stigma that many people carry for years.

In her work, kink emerges as a means of self-recognition and community, but also joy. For Momo, it’s puppy play, a form of roleplay in which participants take on the characteristics, behaviours, and social dynamics of dogs. For him, it is not primarily sexual. He talks about the simple happiness it brings him: the leather gear he loves wearing, the comfort of his mask, the bond he shares with his owner, and the sense of freedom he experiences when he steps into that space. Sometimes that owner is a romantic partner, sometimes a friend. Animal behaviourists use the term ‘enrichment’ to describe activities that stimulate curiosity, exploration, social bonding, and well-being. Play is not a frivolous extra; it is a fundamental part of how mammals learn, connect, regulate emotions, and experience joy. Momo's account places puppy play within that tradition of playfulness and connection — a space where affection, trust, imagination, and companionship can flourish without embarrassment, and where happiness can be uncomplicated and belonging can be found. 

Born in Vizag, Andhra Pradesh, to a father who was in the Indian Navy, Monica travelled and moved around a lot growing up, which made her very interested in people, their lives, their stories, and the different worlds they come from. Her time at the University of the Arts London further taught her how to visually tell stories and document people, communities, and lived experiences through photography and moving images.

After meeting members of the kink community at Torture Garden, Monica Dhaka began to see an unfair gap between the way society stereotypes them and the reality of a community built around trust, consent, and mutual respect. She spent five to six months researching the community, speaking to people on FetLife, a social networking website that serves people interested in BDSM, fetishism, and kink and reading about kink culture, before finding Dutch Pup Momo through his article Belonging & the Scene in Mister B Wings. After reaching out to him through Instagram, they met, he understood her vision for the documentary, and the film slowly began to take shape.

'Belonging & The Scene' falls in the lineage of a growing cultural awakening to alternative ways of living, loving, desiring, and forming community. It belongs to a crossroads in the trajectory of dominant discourse, where people are beginning to question the oppressive rules that have governed bodies, gender, sexuality, intimacy, family, and identity for too long. Part of it is dissecting where homophobia comes from, with artists like Alok Vaid-Menon pointing out how much of it is rooted in envy and resentment. When you’re raised under patriarchy, which strangles the emotional and psychological needs of both men and women, and the gender non-conforming, the freedom and unapologetic self-expression of queer and kink communities begins to feel offensive: “Why do they get to be who they are while I kill parts of myself to fit in and be accepted?”

The noblest of artistic pursuits and the vilest of crimes are often driven by the same powerful need: to be seen. It is one of the ways the self becomes real to itself, and it’s the foundation upon which connection is built. Through the kink community, Belonging & the Scene gives us a little utopian glimpse of what being seen and accepted unconditionally looks like. 

Follow Monica here and watch the trailer for the film here.

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