There are plenty of myths surrounding ropes.
I’ve heard people say things like, for it to be shibari, you need a specific type of rope, or the ropes have to be a certain length…
Then you see what they’re doing, and it’s hard not to laugh.
Let’s start with the supposed necessity of the material.
It’s true that many techniques were developed using a specific type of rope, namely braided plant-fiber rope… and this rope does have unique characteristics that affect how it handles biomechanical restraint.
But historically, the choice of one material over another—or switching between them—often had more to do with market conditions, like poor harvests or trade disputes.
And yes, jute is a fantastic material for shibari, but so is hemp, along with many other plant fibers.
Other materials, like synthetics or the kind of rope used for climbing, for example, aren’t as suitable—or are outright inadvisable—depending on what you’re doing.
It really depends on the technique and what you’re trying to achieve.
In many countries, there’s local production of ropes made from plant fibers. Brazil is one of the world’s largest jute producers; in Spain, hemp is part of our traditions; in Colombia, fique rope yields some pretty impressive results.
There are plenty of motives behind the rope myth in shibari: partly commercial, with people trying to sell a product; partly about instructors or facilitators wanting to maintain a position of authority.
Sure, good material can enhance the experience, both for the person tying and the one being tied. But in this case, what makes a rope “good” is largely subjective.
There are technical factors: a thinner rope will create more delicate knots and frictions; a tighter braid will offer better hold in restraints; its objective strength under stress is important.
But individual sensations matter too: the way it handles, its smell, texture, weight, sound…
How we value these things is personal—everyone has their own preferences and quirks, and there’s no room for dogma here.
Ultimately, all of this has to come together in the application of the technique.
That’s when we can talk about some ropes being more suitable than others, or even certain materials being entirely unsuitable—but always in relation to a specific use.
But… can you do shibari without ropes?
Absolutely, you can.
Shibari is about anatomical restraint and body management, and for that, soft, pliable materials that allow for fluid, organic body handling will do just fine.
Example: underwear.
Or even your hands—or, better yet, your entire body.
At our school, we believe that restraint in erotic shibari must be anatomical to ensure the safety of the tied person’s joints.
Ropes are never the immobilizing element; instead, they serve other purposes, like managing and guiding the session.
I encourage you to experiment, try things out, and above all, find meaning in what you do.
Does it make sense for your practice to shell out a hefty sum for a rope that reeks of petroleum and was originally meant for gardening, just because it’s sold by a Japanese vendor (even if it’s made in Bangladesh)?
Or maybe you’re perfectly happy with a simple strip of fabric, since a basic hand restraint does the trick, and anything will work for that.
Maybe you want to create intricate tying patterns, perform acrobatics, or perhaps your focus is on body handling and eroticism…
Each of these scenarios has different requirements, and the rope is the least important part in all of them.
Because the rope, on its own, won’t get you any of those results.
Ropes are never the immobilizing element; they serve other functions, like managing and guiding the session.
How to Learn?
Another set of myths, though less tangible, revolves around learning shibari.
I remember when I started my training, over 20 years ago.
After coming back to my city from a workshop that I thought was amazing and masterful (today I’d call it an absolute disaster), a few friends and I got together, and I shared what I’d learned.
We practiced as a group, which was way more fun.
I think that’s something that happens everywhere, and it feels pretty healthy to me, though it does have its shortcomings.
Relying on one person’s memory and retention to pass down a technique is, by its very nature, a process that often ends up like a game of broken telephone.
And it’s bound to be even more problematic if the original source is teaching nonsense, hearsay, or baseless ideas.
Lately, I’ve noticed instructors—some with international reputations—who deliberately teach their students techniques that are dangerous or harmful, passing them off as something positive.
The thing is, in the small world of shibari, there’s an overwhelming tendency toward myth-making, turning people we don’t even know into idols without questioning what they’re actually doing.
And that’s a problem that leads to plenty of others.
For instance, when I teach a new group of students, I always ask them to do something with the ropes: a pattern, something simple they feel comfortable with, something they usually use in their sessions or that they’re most proud of.
The results tend to go in two directions: either they do something like a gote, or they replicate the pattern they saw at their last workshop—but it’s always the same one, and almost always with the same flaws. That’s pretty typical.
Give it a try—think about it, or better yet, if you have a photo, consider the tie you use most in your sessions, the one that feels most comfortable or familiar.
In a large percentage of cases, I come across gotes where the initial single column is placed directly on the wrists.
Let me pause to remind you of the basic rope safety rule, which is to leave about 10 cm of space above each joint.
When I ask why they place the ropes there, the response is usually a shrug—they don’t know—or, more often, “that’s how I was taught.”
But they were also taught the 10 cm rule. So, where’s the critical thinking, the ability to analyze?
This says a lot about the quality of training, which often boils down to memorizing a series of steps and a few tricks, then hoping for the best.
Sometimes, instructors teach without explaining, probably because they don’t fully understand it themselves. Many videos just show a process without giving a reason for doing things or explaining what’s happening.
Shibari is a technique, and as such, it’s science, not belief… not “because I say so.”
Here’s the issue: learning the technique and developing shibari skills is slow. It takes time and effort.
Teaching something as basic as a posture or moving an arm backward in a private lesson takes more than a day, and months to process and internalize.
It’s normal for a student, after a year of classes, to suddenly realize one day: “Oh, that’s how it’s done!” Yup, that’s what I told you on day one.
That’s why I’m skeptical of those classes that promise to teach a complex pattern or figure, requiring only that you know how to twist a rope and tie a cow to a post, and claim they’ll do it in a large group in just 4 hours… Well, forgive me for doubting that.
And if it’s tricky in person, just imagine doing it online.
Copying doesn’t work. It might for basic stuff, like understanding a step or seeing how a rope is placed. But it doesn’t go much further.
For example, at our online school, I record myself doing a single column, and very few people can follow along.
It took me a couple of years to figure out why: I’m left-handed and use left-twisted rope.
That’s just with the simple stuff. When it comes to complex patterns, it’s not about replicating rope designs.
It’s impossible for the same pattern, applied to five different bodies by five different people, to look exactly the same.
It will always require adjustments, both for the person tying and the one being tied.
In fact, I don’t even repeat the same pattern twice myself.
In our case, we don’t base online training on videos for students to follow. Instead, we use 1:1 lessons where we observe what they do, guide them, and, most importantly, show them how to adapt the technique to their specific case.
The technique must always be adapted to the person.
We show them what they should feel, how to respond, and how the technique should work so they can tell if it’s going right or wrong.
We explain the how and why of every detail: why the rope is passed in a certain direction, what happens if it’s tighter or looser, or applied one way versus another…
And we provide feedback on their practice with corrections.
Then, we supply study materials in writing and video, because there’s a lot of information.
For example, in this year’s course, just for posture, positioning, and basic rope handling, we have over 50 hours of study material, and we still haven’t gotten to the simplest gote.
So, are you telling me a 13-minute video or a 4-hour workshop is enough?
No way.
Above all, it’s about the student learning, but with technique, it helps a lot to have guidance—to have someone explain the what, how, and why.
If training is just about showing steps for you to repeat like a robot, here’s what happens: first, you won’t know how to solve problems when they come up, and you won’t be able to identify their cause.
Then, you’ll forget steps or mix them up, because you don’t know how they work or what they’re for.
And in the end, you won’t know what you’re doing. That’s when frustration sets in, the feeling that shibari doesn’t make sense anymore. It used to feel amazing, but now it’s just repeating steps and processes that leave you empty.