Examination of Two Queered Genders

Much by accident I just came across this quote:

Marilyn was revered as a tigress, but she was loved (and pitied) as a kitten. In that sense her sexuality did not present a challenge; vulnerability made her manageable–it guaranteed her femininity.

The threat of other lustful man-killers is diminished by intimations of their androgyny. Mae West looked all girl but her style was decidedly butch. “It’s [men's] game,” she says with trademark smarminess of her multiple, casual seductions in She Done Him Wrong. “I happen to be smart enough to play it their way.” Marlene Dietrich in tux and top hat is also both hyperfeminine and faux homme, a man in drag in drag. -My Enemy, My Love By Judith Levine p. 92

It goes on to talk about the book’s real point in bringing this up: the antipode to the Seducer or femme fatale, The Slave. But, that’s not really what intrigued me about it. I especially love this line: Mae West looked all girl but her style was decidedly butch. It is an angle I hadn’t really contemplated before, but basically Mae West as femme. It’s pretty damn obvious now that I’m thinking about it, but it just wasn’t a connection I’d made before. Though she wasn’t queer in the sense of sleeping with women, but she did have an affinity toward gay men and wrote The Drag.

Mae West looking stunning as always!
Mae West

The two ways used to describe Mae West and Marlene Dietrich are both incredibly queer, while Marilyn Monroe is more of an archetype for traditional femininity. Mae West was femme in look, butch in action, or simply a description of a type of queer femininity, or simply femmeininity. Marlene Dietrich was a man in drag in drag, a queer masculinity on a female body so that it is not the same as masculine because it is also overtly feminine.

Of course, this has the threat of falling into the trap of femme = weak and butch = strong, or femme = passive and butch = active/aggressor, but that’s not what I’m taking it to mean. While the original writer may have had those gender stereotypical ideas in mind, though I don’t know because I haven’t talked to her, I don’t believe that saying Mae West is femme in look butch in action is necessarily falling into the same gender stereotypes any more than us calling ourselves butch or femme does.

Mae was a lover of elegant dresses, furs, jewels, nearly anything extravagant. While many femmes can be and are strong, straightforward, and aggressive there is a difference between a strong femininity and a strong masculinity though they can look quite the same, otherwise we wouldn’t use terms to differentiate them, and that is what I’m taking the phrase to mean. I see her as a drag queen, or a faux queen, a term I have found for female drag queens, putting on her extravagance for all the world to see in a very masculine manner.

Marlene Dietrich looking dashing in her tux!
Marlene Dietrich

Similarly with Marlene Dietrich, there is a big difference between a faux homme, as termed by the author of the quote, and a butch. I take it to be an element of faggetry within it, that extra addition of femininity to the butch that may make you do a double-take. It makes me think of Emmit in Queer as Folk (Onyx and I are watching through the series–now on Season 5!), a queer masculinity that, while masculine, has a touch of the feminine within it as well, though that isn’t a perfect representation, but he could also be termed “a man in drag in drag.”

On a more personal note, I found myself identifying with both the statements. These are, of course, only two of an infinite number of queer genders in the gender galaxy, but are especially interesting to me because I identify with them.

Most of the time I’m in femme drag, I look all femme but my style is decidedly butch. Yet I also absolutely love to get into boi/butch drag on occasion as well, but when I do it it’s never to pass, it’s always to pass as queer, a fagette rather than a man. Hence hyperfeminine and faux homme, a man in drag in drag. I absolutely love it.

Lately I have been struggling with the different genders within me, my femme drag queen and boi fagette sides as I affectionately call them, though there are more gendered sides than that, but those are the easiest to categorize (but not box in). I was amazed when I found the quote above since it clicked with me so perfectly. I embrace those exact styles up above: a drag queen femmeininity which is more butch in style but femme in look, and a faggette butchness which is very faux homme.

-Scarlet Lotus Sexgeek

Entering Unknown Territory

Last week I went to a party…A Gigglefest…and trust me, I had a very good time but something happened that night that has left me thinking…a lot…about all of the rules I have created for myself…

I’m forty-four years old; isn’t it time I throw out some of the old rules with yesterday’s trash? And then with that thought immediately follows the chastisement from the little bitch dressed in white sitting on my right shoulder, “Don’t even think about it.”

Sigh.

Thank goddess I have that nasty little she-devil all dressed in red sitting on my left shoulder, shouting, “You go girl!”

By now, you, my reader, are probably as thoroughly as confused as I am…

Here was my dilemma, seeing that I was at a party with forty amazing, beautiful women…and hooking up with one of them seemed to be a probability…

There was lots of giggling…and jiggling…and flirting going on. I got to dance with a woman who I really like and admire (she once asked me to have her baby and I still regret not doing so…after dancing, we shared a few drinks and talked at length about that decision and how it has affected both of our lives. Okay, we got drunk together…and I felt a lot worse about the decision.)

Hours later, I got to hug and snuggle and kiss a beautiful woman who until that night had just been a passing flirtation…

And then sometime later, okay…much later…sitting by a campfire, listening to the sweet music of some of the women who had brought their drums…I tried to figure out just why I wasn’t somewhere private and naked with either of the first two women…and ended up with a third woman in my lap.

Did I say woman?

Oh sweet goddess…

Rephrase that to girl…soft, sexy, waist length blonde hair billowing around us in a sexy, sweet scented cloud. And I was in lust up to my eyeballs (Did I forget to mention that in her own innocent way she’d been trying to hook-up all evening?)

Twenty-two and plenty legal but soooo off limits because of my damn rules…

I have a rule about the girls and bois I get involved with…they can’t be more than fifteen years younger than me. Why? Good question and one I really don’t seem to have an answer for except for the fact that one of my ex-husbands was fifteen years older than me and that seemed acceptable…whereas if there had been more than fifteen years between us that would have been somehow…unacceptable.

I’ve been plenty tempted to break that rule in the past and so I amended with a clause that if tempted, I might be swayed, but I would never enjoy the favors of anyone younger than my daughters…there, that would keep me safe for a good long time. I definitely wouldn’t break that rule, right? That would just be too gross being with someone younger than any of my daughters…

And then the beauty in my lap kissed me.

Wow.

She rocked my world and then some…I won’t bore you with the details of what followed but I was good (okay, I was as reasonably well behaved as I could be with a luscious beauty in my lap intent on hooking up)…in the end I politely declined an invitation to join her somewhere more private…

And I was left to stare into the fire…binding myself with mental ropes to keep myself from chasing her into the dark…because I really wanted to.

I could blame it on horniness…My husband has been away on business since August 3rd with the exception of a Saturday once a month…

Or, I could just admit that I’m a hypocrite and be done with it…

Wouldn’t it be so liberating to toss all of the rules to the wind and just enjoy the moments that come my way? It would…it really, really would…

Looking into the fire, listening to the drums…I realized that my heart was pounding out of my chest because the too young girl had spoken a primal language to the beast that lives inside of me…the one who only sees life in fantasy and dream…the one who I packed away when I left my inner boi behind so long ago and didn’t allow him to become a man…because I had to be someone else…I had to be someone’s mother…and my Femme-self came into being.

My beast…

My little boi grown up…

I don’t have a rule for this one. I’m in unknown territory. I know what my primal instinct wanted to do…I wanted to wrap her hair in my fist. I wanted to hold her down and kiss her mindless. I wanted to thrust my cock inside of her, dominate her, make her beg and scream…

That is behavior reserved for only in my mind…

But now, I feel like there is a battle going on inside of me and this round went to the little bitch on my right shoulder. I obeyed the rules…I was good…But watching the fire flicker and spark, I decided something else. I’m tired of living by rules of right and wrong that don’t really make any sense to me anymore (did they ever?) and I want to let my beast out to play…and honestly, there isn’t anything femme about that part of me at all.

Maybe this is “just a phase”…

I remember my mom saying that when I was young…at the time I’d cut off my hair and taken to carrying my wallet in my hip pocket…

A phase would be a comfort…I know who I am in my Femme skin…and this…unknown territory is so far out of my comfort zone that I really don’t know the answer to, “What next?”