Correct me if I’m wrong. I have compiled some of the ways that femme queers femininity for my Queer Theory term paper. I’m trying to think of some personal experiences that contributed to my development of a femme identity… Here are some of my answers to the question, “How does Femme Queer Femininity?”Femme is for Everybody: Answering the question, “How does femme queer femininity?”
Point 1: Femme queers femininity by expanding eligibility, making femininity an inclusive label, rather than an exclusive one.
Traditional femininity has been so strictly policed by society that only a choice few people have been given access to the character trait, “feminine.” People who are not female, people who are overweight, people who have unusual characteristics (like shortness) and dominant, aggressive women have been largely ineligible the traditional label of femininity. Femme, however, is for all people, regardless of sex, physical characteristics or personality styles. In my own life, specifically post-puberty, I had a hard time earning the label of femininity because of my shortness, my larger than average body size, and my general disinterest in boys.
Point 2: Femme queers femininity by involving participants in making and breaking rules of appearance, rather than abiding by previously established rules.
As with queerness, femmeness can be defined by its resistance to definitions. Feminine women have very strict rules defined by the times in which they live. Whether they choose to live by them is another story, but they may compromise their access to the label “feminine” (and the associated privileges) if they do not live by the rules. Femme (as a queer identity) encourages rule breaking! Femininity is mostly defined by the rules that society has provided for it, while femme is characterized by the people who call themselves by that name. If someone says they are a femme, then that is what a femme looks like, but this is not the case with mainstream femininity. Conversely, just because a person calls themselves feminine (in the traditional sense of the word) doesn’t mean that society will agree with them. I personally like acting out femininity, but I gave up on it for many years because I could never succeed as a feminine woman. Now that I understand femme as a transgressive, queer character, as femininity with a twist, I find it as the most appropriate label for the gender that I choose to express. I’m feminine, but I’m not what society thinks I am.
Point 3: Femme queers femininity in that the femme’s audience is defined by her, rather than by the mainstream culture.
A feminine woman without queer leanings may find that her audience is all men without her consent (since non-queer femininity by definition caters to the pleasure and comfort of men). On the other hand, a queer femme lesbian can reject men’s ideals for her femininity altogether, and choose to perform her gender for herself and for her other queer companions. Drag queens may actually have a formal audience for their drag performances, or their intended audience may be fellow drag queens. There is a wealth of audience options for actors of the femme role. As far as I am concerned, my audience right now is the butch and femme culture that I became part of when I was first coming out. At other times in my life, my audience has been my peers, or it has been authority figures. But I feel the best about my gender in the context of butch and femme.
Point 4: Femme queers femininity by being intentional rather than by being the default mode of operation for female-bodied people.
Femme takes into account the performativity of gender. It is not simply resigning oneself to femininity because one is female, rather femme is an intentional performance, where the actor takes the role of femininity for herself, rather than bothering to earn the rights to it. Even queer or lgbt women may do “femininity by default” – this is not femme, even though it is a gender style performed by queer identified people. Femme is queer when it is for fun!

I intend to take account of my gender development through seven periods of my life: 1. childhood; 2. pre- and early teens; 3. freshman/sophomore; 4. junior/senior/college freshman; 5. USF through 2005; 6. Missionary School (2006); 7. Leaving missions / coming out.

Theory

I would like to address the concepts of (1) Gender Accountability (the “rules” of gender expression) and (2) Gender Performativity (as in, gender is something you do, not something you are, necessarily). You know I said above that femme is defined by its resistance to definitions, but that may not be true, now that I think about it some more. Appearances are only very loosely defined by a feminine slant, although one could say that it is almost a feminine “drag,” a caricature making fun of femininity. I actually think that personality is indeed defined by a number of character traits as follows. Femmes are (or tend to be) women who are bold, strong and independent, who do not take anyone’s bullshit, who makes a path where there is none and appreciates diversity. Femme takes an activist role, she is an agent in her own destiny and she believes in the power of love, forgiveness, compassion and the care of others after the care of herself. Femme is also defined historically and presently by an association to queer butches and butchness).

That’s all I have so far, and that’s about 2.5 pages! The stories should hopefully fill up the other 7.5. Eek!

So this idea has been bouncing around in my head for some time now about the differences between butch and femme, and who’s the protector and who’s the protected. Butches talk so much about how they love to put their arms around a girl and it makes them feel strong, it gives them a sense that they can use their chivalry to protect and cradle her in the ways that she presents her feminine gender. Yet at the same time, femmes talk a lot about protecting and supporting and holding up the female masculinity of their butch/ftm friends and lovers by performing their femme gender in such a way that makes masculine people feel strong. So who’s really protecting whom? Given these two facts, it definitely seems like femmes and butches who purposefully associate with one another are really leaning on each other. When one gets weak, the other is there to lean harder against her counterpart to prevent her from falling down. It’s a delicate balance. Neither is stronger than the other, neither is more capable or ready to meet the world than the other. It seems to me that we face the world together, holding each other’s hand for confidence and balance.

Here we go again…

I was hanging out at one of the alternative lifestyle forums I frequent and the post titled FUTCH popped up…and it didn’t make me thrilled…and I wasn’t even one of the ones asking WTF? Maybe you, as I was, watched when Dani Campbell, one of the contestants on MTV’s Shot at Love with Tila Tequila said “Futch.” She explained it meant someone who is neither feminine nor butch, but a cross between. My eyes rolled.

Maybe you love the word…maybe you hate the word. My question is, “Do we as a community not have enough labels to describe ourselves? Lesbian, Butch, Femme, Stem, Stone Butch, Lipstick Lesbian…I could go on. Okay, one more: Gayelle.  (Why anyone would want a change of label to this happy, pleasant sounding word is beyond me, since Lesbian has history. Lesbian the word coming from the Greek island Lesbos where the first recognized “homosexual woman” was presumed to live…and where she wrote her many love poems to other women from. Perhaps you’ve heard of her: Sappho. Maybe not, since she lived about 600 B.C.

So, as much as I’d love to turn this into a label rant…I won’t…I will go back to the forum discussion that ensued wherein someone claimed that a Dominant Femme was an Oxymoron. Seriously. Forget eye roll, I laughed out loud! Then I laughed some more.

When did Femme come to mean soft and cuddly and vulnerable and submissive? When did someone add to the label rule book that Femme meant a woman who couldn’t be strong, capable, independent? Assertive? Demanding? Dominating?

Either I’m confused or the label creators are…

The Femme history that I know is one of a powerful woman, willing to stand out from the norm. Consider the era. Lesbianism first became very public in the 1940’s (yes, there were obviously lesbians pre-1940 but for the sake of this post…I want to keep it semi-current.) If you were a woman in 1940, you were a housewife, a nun, a spinster. Or you were a rebel. An outsider. Someone who could be beaten or killed for being Different. Someone who had to be willing to be Tough. Hardcore. In Order To Survive The Times.

Why 1940? In Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers, Lillian Faderman recognized that this was when women were first admitted to bars (in the U.S.) without a male escort. As a consequence, the outsiders developed ways to recognize each other. Some (Butch/Dyke) women women adopted male styled clothes and short hair which conflicted starkly with their feminine peers, others (Femme) women exaggerated their femininity with daring red lipstick and seductive dress. Paired as Butch/Femme couples, they resembled their heterosexual counterparts but because of their exaggerated representations brought attention for the first time to the Lesbian Subculture.

In Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold, Elizabeth Lapvsky-Kennedy and Madeline Davis wrote that gender identities “were the key structure for organizing against heterosexual dominance.” Gender identities born from their heterosexual models: if Butch equalled Aggressor and Protector then Femme found importance as Seducer and Pillars of Strength.

By the 1950’s the Lesbian Subculture was firmly rooted making it possible for women like Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon to come out as a committed homosexual couple even though harassment and arrest were still common.

During the 1960’s and 70’s Lesbianism was under attack but by a new source: Feminists. With Butches accused of chauvinism and oppression and Femmes accused of enabling…the feminist lesbian strove for androgyny.

However, by the 1980’s Butch-Femme came into being as post-feminist lesbians reclaimed their right to have gender. A quote from Butch-Femme.com (one of the original genderqueer websites) says it better than I ever could: “A Butch without a Femme is still a Butch, just as a Femme without a Butch is still a Femme. But how we compliment one another. And it’s hot! We are about…passion!”

The 1990’s brought the recognition of transgender, changing the face of the community forever…

October is officially LGBT History Month and so the past as well as the future of Femme has been on my mind. And so looking for inspiration for today’s post, I went looking for Femme and found instead Futch. Why did I cringe so hard when I was reading the Forum’s comments? Was it because I see myself in the term Futch? Is it because I have such a fierce aversion to any label that tries to fit me into a nice tidy category…

Or maybe it is because I fear what this new century is bringing to the table as our future’s history. Are we really so confused that we have to coin a new term seemingly every day to define ourselves…or by creating new labels are we enabling ourselves to truly live our lives authentically? I sincerely hope it is the latter … for me, I’m just happy that today I am able to say I am Bisexual. I am Femme. And no one is going to throw a brick at my head.

So, as much as I would have loved to have ranted about labels, I hope instead that this post encourages at least one to do some research into the history of our roots. And in writing this post I am given the opportunity to say thank you to all of those beautiful Femmes and Butches who came before me…for their Strength and Courage and Determination to make the path I walk one that is easier than the one they walked.

Thank You.

Can A Femme Be Butch Too?

I’m sitting here on my couch – okay, futon – belly full of awesome Thai food, agonizing over the fact that it’s been too long since I’ve updated my portion of TFG, then agonizing even more over the fact that I cannot think of a single thing to write. Talk about a brain explosion.

Then it occurred to me. Maybe I’m thinking too much inside the box. Of course, can there be a box when we’re discussing such things as the genderqueer identity, gender fluidity, and the deliberate turn away from rigid, binary gender rules? In any case, I was restricting myself, which is ridiculous because I don’t restrict myself in my everyday life when it comes to my gender – or lack thereof, not biologically speaking of course. While I do identify as a femme, there is still a part of me that feels a little butch. Even more so, perhaps, because I identify as a tomboy-femme.

Maybe there’s a little butch in every femme.

And why shouldn’t there be? If we’re so opposed to rigid gender identification, enough to declare ourselves femme in lieu of adopting the heteronormative “feminine,” why wouldn’t we also accept that we can also be butch? Maybe not predominantly, but certainly for most if not all of us, there is a little baby butch curled up inside, sporting cropped hair and a packing cock. Every now and then she – he? – ze? – wakes up and suddenly we put away our rockin’ halter dresses and peep-toe heels, put on a men’s tee and walk with a little less sway to our hips.

But at the same time, maybe that’s part of what the term “femme” connotes. Maybe by adopting “femme” instead of “feminine,” we are giving an unspoken acknowledgement that there is a baby butch inside, curled up and mostly dormant but still in existence. Because in essence, that is what “femme” is all about. “Femme” is a genderqueer identity, so in theory a femme would be embracing all genders by default, even if she doesn’t actively embody more than one or two.

So can a femme be butch? Well, isn’t she at least a little bit just by embracing the femme identity? And can’t she every now and then be a little more tomboyish, or butch? That’s the beauty of these identities; none of them are permanent or incapable of change. These identities are not labels; they’re orbits to which a woman can gravitate, inhabit for a while, then disengage to float off to another orbit. And why not? After all, we inhabit quite the diverse gender galaxy. Might as well explore the reaches of this new frontier!

I was talking in my kitchen the other day with F, the woman I’m fucking/seeing/having an amazing time with. I’m not quite sure what it is that I said, but I was talking about my Femme identity.  She said something about not knowing quite what a Femme was, but that she was sure she wasn’t one, because of how she acted/dressed/etc, the lack of make up often, and so on.

I tried to explain that for me, I created my own Femme identity. I don’t own stilettos (never have, never will), and I wear the hot pin up heels I have very rarely, due to 3 knee surgeries and ankle injuries. I am allergic to pink, and own 1 pink sex toy, and there is pink on my “fuck you” purse.  Otherwise, I live a pink free lifestyle. I *just* bought my first foundation ever, and I only wear lipstick if I am dressing up in a 50’s rockabilly style, or for a photoshoot. I LOVE to shovel snow and to cook (in nothing but a leopard print apron!). I can check my oil and tire pressure, and change a tire, and I am amazing at doing interior design. I like to bottom, I like to top. I like being dominant and submissive. I have long hair and wear cute fucking underwear, but sometimes like to sleep in boxers and a t-shirt.

I am a Femme.  I like Butches, I like transguys, I sometimes like other Femmes, and I like undefined people as well.  I have created this identity for myself. I am a Femme. Not the same Femme as Hussy or Scarlet or Miss Avarice or Catalina or or or or or.  I am my own Femme. Femme is what it means to me, and no one can take that away from me.

Cross-posted from Essin-Em.com

Hussyred posted something last week (2 weeks ago?) about how we came into our Femme identities, and who/what has contributed to them. I’ve written slightly about this before, but here is my time to say my thank yous. Lady Brett Ashley did hers in the form of an acceptance speech. Mine will be similar, but with more explanation, and less pizazz. I’m not known for my pizazz.

Thank you to those who helped me discover and nurture my Femme identity:

*The person at Dinah Shore 2007. We were in my room, regaining energy after round 2 or 3 or 10 of sex, and they looked over at my make up and hot iron strewn across the vanity. “You are such a Femme.”

“What? No, I’m not!” My concept of Femme was the same as hyper feminine, lipstick. I rejected the social construction of required femininity. “I don’t usually wear heels, I don’t even OWN foundation, I’m allergic to pink. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Femme is not all that. Femme is an attitude. You have a Femme attitude.”

“I most certainly do not.” Hands on my hips, I looked like a large feline, eyes flashing slightly dangerously.

“And there is that attitude right there. Femme isn’t a bad thing. I *like* Femmes. They’re fucking hot.”

And then we fucked again. For another few hours. And the next day. On the plane ride home, I contemplated the concept of Femme. Someone more on the feminine end of the spectrum, but “doing” femininity in her own way. An attitude, not an outfit. And so my journey as a Femme began. Thank you for helping me open the door to my Femme-ness.

*Sinclair Sexsmith. Sinclair is brilliant. And hot. And it’s not secret that Sinclair is at the top of my “Butches I’d like to fuck” list (yes, I have a list). And my “Bloggers I’d like to fuck” list. Hell - people I’d like to fuck in general. Anyways, reading Sugarbutch.net really really really helped me to process the identity and concept of Femme. There was so much to Femme, as much as any other identity. Sinclair made me look at my own identity, and helped me to “create” MY version of Femme. I may not wear stilettos (hello 3 knee surgeries), I may loathe pink, and I’ve certainly never had a manicure in my life. However, when I get all put together, eye some hot Butch at the club, and use a snarky line, I always think of the amazing amount of influence and guidance Sinclair has provided. Thank you to Sinclair for helping me discover so much of all of my identities.

*J. My ex, J. J really brought out the Femme in me sometimes. He’d show up in a button down and a tie, and I wanted to look so hot that he’d not be able to stand it. I wanted to be so hot that he’d fuck me before dinner, after dinner, and at times, during dinner. I would do my hair instead of leaving it curly and down. I’d put on make up, and pick out a sexy outfit. And then he’d call, saying he was outside, and I’d stand framed in the doorway, watching him look me over, and damn it, I’d feel so bloody hot. One time, I had on a 50’s style strapless dress, and black thigh highs. We’d just gotten back into my apartment, and he went down on me, under my dress, while I was trying to stand up and keep my balance, rolling my stockings down slightly. The fact that I could look so attractive, and be so sassy that someone would want to have me right then and there? That’s part of my Femme attitude (Femmitude?). I’d let him open my car door (something I’d NEVER let anyone do before), I’d let him wait for me to sit…I began to re-examine my idea of chivalry in a new context. So a big thank you to J on that.

*K. We really didn’t talk that much about my idea of being a Femme…we had other things to cover. One day, we were moving through a big crowd of people, and he just grabbed my hand and led me through. It was incredibly hot…yet something I couldn’t imagine having found attractive a year or two ago. Not a Femme thing per se…although it influenced me somehow. But I remember one day, I was at his place, and he told me he’d walk me out. I looked at him oddly; it didn’t seem like the time of thing he’d do, and I commented on it. He told me that I just seemed to bring it out in him. I hugged him goodbye, and as I drove home, I thought about it. In the year that I’d been playing with the idea of being a Femme, I’d gone from hating people holding doors, opening doors, lending me their jackets, leading me through crowds to feeling empowered and getting turned on by it. When I met people I was attracted to, my femmitude totally came through…I would wait for a door to be opened, letting them go first. When I shook hands, I would catch their gaze, and then drop my eyes first, essentially asking them to make a move. I LIKED that I brought that out in him. Thank you to K for indirectly validating my identity, and making me feel like I “worked” properly.

*The Femmes in a variety of porn (Pink and White, Fatale, San Francisco Lesbians 1-12, Working Girlz). These women really cemented the idea to me that Femme DOES NOT EQUAL weak. To me, feminine sometimes does, but Femme certainly does not. I am a fierce Femme, a feisty Femme. I have snarky lines, I am learning to flirt, I’m almost at the point where I’m able to get people to pin me up against walls and then fuck the hell out of me. Femme does not mean being passive in bed. Femme does not mean being passive in general. To me, Femme can and often does equal power. Thank you to these hot power Femmes for showing me that.

*Other Sex Bloggers. There are so many. Miss Avarice. Scarlet Lotus. Dylan. Lady Brett Ashley. Sasha Sappho. Pretty much half of Sinclair’s community list. Sinclair’s friend Muse, who posts comments on Sinclair’s blog, and whom I was lucky enough to meet in real life. The writers at the Femme’s Guide to Absolutely Everything (that is y’all!). Thank you to all of you for the comments, discussion, reassurance, new ideas, and so much more.

*Books. Books. Books. Erotica books. Academic books. Fiction books. Biographies. Memoirs. My shelves are covered with them. Thank you to all of the authors for showing me the giant spectrum of Femme, and letting me realize that there IS not definition for the label, and that I don’t have to try and fit myself into some box.

I’m sure there are more influences, but these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Thank you to all these people and things, and to anything and everything else that has been part of the creation and realization of this identity. I appreciate you all.

-Essin’ Em

As many of you may know, particularly from awesomeness like the Team Gina Butch/Femme Music Video, the history of the Butch identity is tied in with blue stars on the wrist.  Because of various reasons that prevented them from expressing their true identity, many Butches got blue stars tattooed on the inside of their wrists to show, in a slightly secret way, that they were queer, and identified as Butch.  Nowadays, many Butches I know and have met (and have oogled from across the room at the local dyke bar) are resurrecting this tradition, tattooing one or more blue stars upon their wrists and arms. I think this is hot, sexy, historical (which IS hot and sexy) and is awesome.

However, I think the Femmes are missing out.  As a Femme who almost always gets read as “a straight, alternative girl,” I’m constantly looking for ways to out myself in conversation, so the cute Butches, bois, transmen, etc, realize that I’m queer and flirting, and just just straight and striking up conversation.  I have a glass rainbow pendant that I wear, I got to dyke bars, I slip my identity into conversations.  But why can’t we Femmes have a symbol of our identity, a symbol that shows others (at least those in the know) a little about our identity.

I propose a spiral (a simple example is above).  There are many reasons; it’s a basic concept, that can be changed and altered to fit the personality of each Femme getting it tattooed.  It’s pretty (I *am* a Femme!). It’s a simple concept, but also slightly complicated (more than a circle, or a triangle, or _____). Just like Femmes; we’re a simple idea, but with a lot more depth and complicatedness behind our hottness.

I mentioned this on Sexuality Happens a while ago. I know several other Femmes that said they’d do this if I could get it off the ground.  So yeah. Who is in? Who would get a small spiral tattooed on their wrist to display and embrace their Femme identity?

-Essin’ Em

Photo by Michael Barone

I remember in college, I would never have even considered letting a guy pay for my meal, or tickets to a movie, or anything. I went dutch all the time, on the few actual dates that I went on. The only exception I made is if it was for a gay friend, for a birthday dinner (we also wound up dancing the Tango in the middle of the restaurant, and there wasn’t a dance floor, so it was really just a weird night).

I don’t know where I got the idea that it wasn’t ok. I don’t think anyone ever sat down and said “when men pay for your dinner, they are expecting something. When they’re chivalrous and gentlemanly, they’re disrespecting you, and feel that you’re weak.” However, this was the principle I was operating under.

I went to a hippie school, and everyone on campus just held the door for one another. I think that’s how it should be; I’d never think to stop and wait for someone to open the door for me, that just seemed (and seems) silly to me. Then I had this one boyfriend, who told me that when I held the door open for him, I was emasculating him. I didn’t have that boyfriend for very long.

The only form of chivalry that I can remember being ok with was when this guy I was seeing offered me the inside of the bed, because it was 6 feet in the air, and I am terrified of heights. I don’t know whether it was fear that let me accept this gesture, or whether I actually was ok with it, but that was it. I never let guys bring me drinks at parties; I didn’t know if I was going to be dosed. Not that anyone ever offered to buy me a drink while we were out, but had they, I would have declined. I didn’t need anyone; I was a strong woman, fuck if I needed to take anything from anyone.

I’d read things in friends’ magazines about what it meant if a guy didn’t hold a door open for you, didn’t walk on the street side of the sidewalk, didn’t wait until you sat down. All I could think was “what bimbo would expect that from her partner? I guess, I mean, if you LIKE being objectified…” It seemed like some odd throwback to the middle ages. It is just polite to hold the door open for whoever is behind you (or whoever is holding more and heavier items).

And then I came out. I struggled with the idea of chivalry in the queer community. I mean, clearly, it wasn’t male chauvinism in this case, but I still didn’t know how I felt about it. A lot of this was also a struggle with the Femme identity; could I be a Femme who didn’t care about getting dirty, a Femme that like dancing in the rain even if it ruined my hair, a Femme who could check her oil without fearing about breaking a nail? If I went back to this concept of letting people hold doors for me, and pull my chair out, and such, was I just falling back into the patriarchy?

When I was at Dinah 07, and was having some hot sex, I finally felt that it was ok. I don’t know what clicked, whether it was something that was said, or just that it was actually happening to me in reality, but this person was holding doors for me, keeping her (now his?) hand on the small of my back as he guided me through large crowds, introducing me (rather than the other way around), offering to hold my coat, etc. All these things I had been so against, and suddenly, I was not only letting someone do them without getting a lecture on equality, but I was enjoying it.

Part of it was because I felt respected. I’ve never minded when my female friends held the door, or let me get in the car first, etc, because I’ve never felt disrespected by them. In high school and college, my guy friends would never have dreamt of holding the door, or placing their hand on my back, or paying for me, so it was never even an issue, although I did feel respected by them. And here I was, feeling respect (and a lot of lust), and suddenly, it was ok.

As I read Sinclair’s writing more and more, I understand that chivalry comes from different places in different people. Sinclair’s place seems to be one of respect and caring; I’d let Sinclair hold the door for me, and maybe even pay for my drinks (note: hell, I’d let Sinclair fuck me, so maybe this isn’t exactly the best example). However, the other night at the bar (Roller Girl Karaoke), a very drunk dyke decided to buy all the women drinks. And then came over, and started a conversation with me, and two other ladies. She was not coming from a place of respect. This could be told by her suddenly touching me without asking, talking down to me, and constantly referring back to having bought the drinks. My angry inner feminist raised her head, and wanted to lecture her on the objectification of women. I didn’t; rather, I went up and sang Sweet Transvestite instead.

The same night, I was getting out of my car at the meter, while on the phone with a friend. As I began to open my door, I felt it being pulled from the outside. When I looked up, a middle age man was opening it for me. I went into fight (no option for flight mode), telling my friend that something was about to go down. Still on the phone, I cautiously got out as the man opened my door. “Little lady, you look like you need a little help. Let me get this for you.” Excuse me? I look like I need help why? Because I’m in a handicapped space, or because my breasts are falling out of my dress? Once I stood up, he put his hand on my back, and he and his friends (oh yes, did I mention there was a group of 3 or 4 drunken middle aged men?) told me I looked very pretty, and asked me if I need them to walk me anywhere. Firstly, if I did need to be walked somewhere, it would be with someone I trusted, and to protect me from people like you, but ok. And secondly, get your hand off me. Did I tell you that you could touch me? Didn’t think so. Kindly remove it before I poke you in the eye with Mr.Right, who just so happens to be chilling underneath my dress. My friend was concerned; “Em, you ok?” I told him I was fine, just dealing with some drunken old men. He got more concerned “Jesus, they just follow you, don’t they. Just remember, if you punch them, I’m in a different state and can’t bail you out of jail.” I locked my car, shut the door, and started putting money in the meter, avoiding them completely. They finally wandered off.

I’m sure they thought they were being gentlemanly. I thought they were being annoying, patronizing assholes. Who is right? I don’t know. Maybe if I’d been brought up in a different culture, I’d find it flattering. I didn’t. I thought it was rude and creepy.

So I haven’t changed completely. Holding doors for me doesn’t really bother me, as I feel you should just hold the door; it’s bloody polite. And sometimes chivalry still really bothers me; I feel it doesn’t come from a place of respect, and I’m right back in college, mentally ranting against the misogyny. And still other times, I like it a lot. I never expect it, but from the right people, it makes me feel like more of a Femme, that I’m treated differently. These are people that I trust, and feel that we have mutual respect.

One day, I was leaving a friend’s apartment (albeit with ice cubes down my bra). He is a hot, FTM, who I lusted after for a month or two, and did a hot piercing and semi-fisting scene in NYC.  I gave him a hug, and headed out the door to say goodbye. He told me he was going to walk me downstairs. Off the cuff, I said “well, aren’t you quite the chivalrous gentleman.” He told me that he wasn’t always like that, that I brought it out in him. I responded something about clearly, I was a success as a Femme, and went on my merry way.

On my drive home, I was trying to figure out how I actually felt about him saying that. Had someone said that to me a few years ago, I would probably have been really upset, asked them what it was about me that seemed weak and helpless, and then done my best to remedy the situation. However, that isn’t the case anymore. I don’t think chivalry is this horrible thing in all cases. When my ex held the door for me, or this guy walked me down the stairs, or the person at Dinah confidently lead me through the crowd, I felt hot and powerful and respected and feminine and like a self-satisfied Femme. I’m usually a fan of “if feels right, and doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s fine.” However, I still wonder, am I hurting people by subscribing to misogyny, as I enjoy having people be chivalrous towards me?

I’ll probably never figure this one out, but at least I’m not in a “hate everyone and die phase.” Hell, I even let my current object of affection pay for dinner on our first date

-Essin’ Em

If you asked me 2 years ago if I identified as a Femme, I would have said “no way…I’m not a Femme!”  This was mostly because I classified Femme as the same as feminine…although they are, in actuality, two very different things.  

It seems to me (now) that femininity is a social construction of what it means to be “good” at being a “good” female in our society.  Being feminine can involve anything from wearing high heels to the proper make up, to the right outfits to fill in the blank.  This post is not whether or not this is a good construction; it just is.  That is femininity, and I am not a very good example of it. Most mornings I wake up 20 or 25 minutes before I’m out the door, and that includes peeing, feeding the kitties, putting on clothes, eating something, etc.  I don’t have time to look perfectly coiffed.  I don’t know what is in fashion, I just found out what Coach and Burberry are, etc. I am not society’s definition of very feminine; I even am allergic to pink.

But I do identify as Femme.  This identity started coming into being at the Dinah Shore Weekend 2007, when I was probably in the top 5% of the most feminine people at the event.  This is not to say that the event was filled with butch women; there just were not that many feminine women, so when I got dressed up for the parties, I was more feminine (in a social context) than most of the people there, re-defining my idea of what “feminine” was. Also, I spent most of my free time with a butch lesbian (who now identifies as a transman), and let me tell you, that’s when my Femme mentality kicked on. 

Holy crap; knowing that I could use my “femme wiles” (different then feminine wiles) to influence someone is such a power trip.  Just the way I said things seemed to get this person hot, and they didn’t mind that it took me slightly longer to get gussied up.  They thought it was adorable that I was cold because I was wearing a short skirt and fishnets, and that I was tispy and horny after two drinks.  I didn’t feel like any less of a feminist when they offered me their arm as I tottered around the edge of a the hotel pond in heels or as they held the door open for me.  When I sat in their lap as I purposely showed off my cleavage (hey, I wanted to get some), I felt in complete control of the situation, in the same way that I feel subs are in control of dom/sub situations.  I LOVE that feeling.  I felt like I could be appreciated for my feisty, yet slightly delicate side.  I goaded “my” butch into pinning me up against the wall, and even though I was the one getting fucked, again, I felt like I was in control.

I love being a femme because I feel like it’s partially an identity I can turn on and turn up.  I can “just” be me, or I can vamp up the femme if I want to.  Sometimes I’ll have someone come over, and I’ll be in sweatpants and a tank top and we’ll just go to a diner, or cook dinner together.  Sometimes I’ll have someone over, and I’m in stockings and a gartbelt, a 50’s style halter top dress, heels, and I have done my hair and am ready to go. I feel that as a Femme (not a feminine woman, but a Femme; again, please note the difference), I can be a feminist, still have control of my sexuality and the situation, and use my wiles to have the upper hand. I like wowing my partner.  I love watching their jaw drop and having pre-date sex because I just made them so hot we just can’t wait until after dinner.

This is not to say that I’m always the one being pushed against the wall. I can tie my partners up too (although that is usually more of a laughing matter).  I like that my partners can usually cook as well; I’m good for more than just sex and being in the kitchen.  I don’t NEED someone else to help me take care of my car, to open doors for me, etc.  But it’s nice.  Sometimes it’s nice to have someone help me put together my IKEA furniture (I’m a starving post-grad student, what do you want?) while I cook or do the dishes.  And sometimes I’ll do the screwing (of the wood…pieces…come on people!) while my partner tidies up the kitchen.  I don’t have to fall into stereotypical roles.  It’s just nice to have that va-va-voom factor I can turn on, and have someone to pin me against the wall, and to kiss me while their hands are wrapped in my hair.  

There is such a difference, in my opinion, between being feminine and a Femme.  I’ll never own stilletos or a pink dress…it’s just not going to happen.  Ever.  But I will proudly call myself a Femme.  Just not 24-7.  Most of the time, yes…and that’s the wonderful thing about it.  I don’t have to be anything all the time, and sometimes I’m more of this, and less of that.  Right now, I’m wishing I had someone that brought out the Femme in me. I’d get all gussied up and show everyone what they’re missing.  Because there are few things hotter than a feisty Femme…other than a chivalrous Butch

Essin’ Em