From people-pleasing to power-playing
How kink teaches us to stop performing for approval and start co-creating from desire
Tracy Playle shares her thoughts on how to stay true to your self and not let people-pleasing win.
People-pleasing is sneaky.
It hides in politeness, in being “easy to get along with,” in saying “whatever you want” when we really mean “I’m scared to tell you.” It’s the subtle way we trade truth for safety, approval, or belonging.
As an ontological coach, I often describe it as a way of being built on the hope that harmony will protect us. We learn, often very young, that our survival depends on keeping other people happy. So we shape-shift. We anticipate. We perform.
And we get very good at it. If there’s one thing I find myself supporting my coaching clients on more than anything else it’s people-pleasing tendencies and the multiple variations on that theme.
But people-pleasing isn’t connection - it’s management. It’s an unconscious contract that says, “I’ll give you what you want, as long as you don’t leave.” When you hear it put that way it sounds pretty disempowered, right?
That way of being might have once kept us safe - it might still do. But it also keeps us small. And it holds us in a place where contentment or mere satisfaction is as good as it gets. But what about our right to experience desire, pleasure, and total unconditional joy?
Performing for safety
You can spot people-pleasing energy by the absence of presence.
There’s a tightness to it - a subtle flinch around disappointment, a need to control the emotional weather in the room. An expectant gaze that shows we’re waiting for some kind of feedback or assurance that we’re doing or saying what the other person wants.
We become hyper-attuned to everyone else’s desires and numb to our own. Or, when it becomes most disempowering, we become guilty for our needs.
People-pleasing energy doesn’t disappear when we step into sex or play. It follows us into the bedroom, into our relationships, and yes - into kink. And when the form of kink that you’re embracing veers into power dynamics that people-pleasing tendency can ramp up a notch or twenty.
I’ve seen people enter a scene still trying to earn their right to be there. They don’t play; they perform. They don’t communicate; they anticipate. Their yes is shaped by what they think will make the other person happy, not what would bring pleasure to themselves.
In kink, that’s not just unhelpful, it can actually be unsafe.
Kink as an ontological classroom
Kink, at its best, is a practice of presence.
It’s an invitation to show up as the person you actually are, not the one you’ve learned to perform.
In ontological coaching, we look at the “way of being” that drives our actions - the blend of body, emotion, and language that shapes how we relate to the world and our experiences within it. People-pleasing is one such way of being: a habitual stance rooted in fear of rejection and a need for control.
Kink offers a new way of being: consensual co-creation.
To enter a scene, you must name what you want. You must listen, negotiate, and take responsibility for your own boundaries. Power only flows cleanly when both people are grounded in choice.
That’s what makes kink such an extraordinary teacher. It’s not about control, it’s about clarity. It’s where “I want” becomes not a demand, but a declaration of self.
The moment power becomes play
In the language of ontology, power isn’t something you take or give - it’s something you inhabit. It, too, is a state of being. You don’t just “do” power. You “be” power.
When you let go of performance and step into presence, you stop playing the role of the “good” one, and start becoming the real one.
Every time you practice saying, “I’d like to try this,” or “that’s not for me,” you shift your being from approval-seeking to authenticity and power. You create a new energetic pattern - one where your aliveness matters as much as anyone else’s.
In kink, that shift is visible. When a submissive drops into surrender, it isn’t because they’ve given up power - it’s because they’ve stepped fully into choice. When a dominant leads with care and attention, it isn’t control - it’s responsibility.
Both are forms of power-playing: not performance, but presence.
Kink becomes a laboratory for unlearning people-pleasing. It’s where the body relearns that you can say no and still be loved. That you can ask for what you want and still be safe. That mutual respect is sexier than silent compliance.
And so a kink scene becomes a safe micro-moment in which we get to “try on” a different way of being. It’s a laboratory or a classroom to experiment with something new for ourselves. And if we can achieve it in the bedroom, what’s to say that we can’t create the same breakthrough in the rest of our lives?
The ontology of ‘yes’
Ontological coaching is all about expanding the range of ways we can be - in relationship, in leadership, in love.
So I often invite people to explore: what does an embodied yes feel like?
A real yes isn’t polite. It’s not intellectual. It’s simply an alignment between language, emotion, and presence. It’s the voicing of your truth in that moment.
Anything less than that - anything that contracts, that feels tight or conditional - isn’t a yes. It’s a performance.
In kink, this distinction is sacred. You can’t play honestly without learning to listen to the body. You begin to notice: when do I feel open, curious, alive? When do I feel small, braced, performing?
That awareness changes everything. It ripples outward - from play to conversation to everyday life. You stop managing, and start relating.
Reclaiming the self: kink as embodied healing
People-pleasing is, at its core, a story about worth. It says: my safety depends on your approval.
Power-playing, in contrast, is a practice of worthiness. It says: my safety begins in my own presence.
That’s why kink can be profoundly healing. Not because it’s about pushing limits, but because it’s about reclaiming choice. Every boundary named, every fantasy voiced, every pause honored - these are micro-practices of power.
You start to trust that who you are - not the version you perform - is welcome, and even loved. And most definitely safe.
You learn that your truth doesn’t break connection; it creates it.
Three small steps to change
If you want to explore this shift, try this:
Notice: Where in your life do you say yes when you mean no, or stay silent when something matters?
Name: What fear is running that moment - fear of conflict, rejection, or being “too much”? Or something else?
Reclaim: Choose one small, embodied act of honesty. It might be asking for a pause, saying “no thanks,” or even telling someone what actually turns you on.
Notice what happens in your body when you do. What is that telling you? Now start to practice it all over your life.