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

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

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

I’ve been wanted to learn to rock climb for two decades…there was only one thing standing in my way and it was a doozie…fear of heights, as in a standard ladder was too much to conquer for normal household maintenance (like screwing in a light bulb.) I know, insane.

When I met my hubby the only thought that went through my head was sex. (I was horny the minute I met him.) The second thought that went through my head was kink (of course) because I refused to be in another vanilla relationship. Having passed both tests, I proceeded to first date where I was astonished to learn that he was an avid rock climber (or as avid as a man can be with a full time job/mortgage responsibilities which is honestly a big bonus because since meeting him, I’ve met several men and women who consider climbing the only thing of importance, shunning relationships, jobs, and mortgages in favor of traveling from cliff to cliff with nothing more than their shoes, rope, and tent.) So meeting him, really seemed too good to be true…

I thought…he’ll teach me to rock climb…

In the past two years since that first date, I’ve mentioned on several occasions that I wanted to learn to climb but it seemed I was destined to be the belay slave (the one who holds the rope and adjusts the rope tension as the climber climbs) for the rest of my life because of my FEAR.

Last weekend that all changed. Hubby flew in (btw he’s been mostly gone since August 3rd for business) for a week’s vacation to celebrate Samhain with me. I surprised him by signing us up for a weekend membership at a rock climbing gym. He was less than enthused since he’s seen my paralyzing fear in action and once had to rescue me from a three foot step ladder but he went along on the adventure stoically hopeful that the day would end without any hysterics on my part…

But, I was prepared…mentally…in addition to meditating for weeks, focused on abandoning my fear of heights, I whipped out my most powerful persona…my Femme Fatale…and I dressed for the occasion: color-coordinated yoga pants and athletic top, full make-up, bouncy ponytail. I lotioned my shoulders and arms with wonderfully scented, luminous lotion (okay, slightly glittery) that made my shoulders look like there might actually be some muscle there and I wore full make-up;)

I felt smoking hot.
I felt strong…no, make that invincible as we drove to the gym…

I climbed a thirty-five foot beginner wall without even considering the height factor. It was wonderful. I surprised everyone, including myself, because when I looked down and waved at my hubby and daughter, I knew I’d really conquered my fear.

On Monday, he flew out again…
I went back to the climbing gym and signed up for a month’s membership for my daughter and myself…(it’s also been a major stress reliever but I will not even bother to get started on my personal life insanity) and in the few days since…I’ve climbed every day, even if only for an hour. I’m challenging myself on routes that I know are physically over my head and quite a bit higher than that first climb…but I’m sooo psyched. I even bought two climbing magazines so I could start learning terminology (not realizing in advance that almost every single article has a reference to sex…who knew?) and where the best outdoor places are to go for a beginner climber. Sure, I could wait and ask hubby because he already knows…but I really want to do the research myself.

Hubby has no idea that he’ll be coming home to a crag slut:)