As published on my new blog, The Queer Fat Femme Guide to Life.

I was walking my Shih Tzu Macy the other day through my neighborhood in Jersey City when we came across a stranger. He was another little white Shih Tzu, with no collar or leash. Macy, ever our ambassador to all friendly furry creatures, asked him what he was up to. She was unable to communicate with me what his exact business was in the street on a dark snowy NYC night, but I was able to pick him up, determine he was warm and smelled entirely too good to be a stray. There’s no way I could just leave him on the street, in case he got hit by a car or fell prey to any other Shih Tzu dangers lurking about.

We took him home, where I made a little sign advertising that I’d found a white dog with my phone number. I figured if it was me, as soon as I realized Macy was gone I would flip out and scour the neighborhood–a few signs near where he was found would probably bring them out.

It took about an hour, my plan worked and little Gizmo was reunited with his family. Macy was a little annoyed that he spent the whole time at my apartment hanging out with me on the sofa and not playing with her, but we felt good about having done a good deed.

I told my gay boy BFF Brian about this, saying It’s not like he’s going to be able to fend for himself on the streets. What survival skills does a Shih Tzu have?

“Well, I think looking cute and being able to convince strangers to take you home and feed you until your people come get you is a survival skill.”

And he is absolutely right. Being able to recognize when you need help and being open and available to receiving help is absolutely a survival skill.

This was brought into stark Femme relief for me during part 2 of my 3 part 30th birthday party celebrations, right after the Shih Tzu incident. I threw a party called “Ascots and Bouffants” at my friend Muse’s apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Muse was kind enough to host the party and was stressed about learning how to bouffant her hair. I offered to do her hair for her, having learned from my hair dresser in November (much to my intense joy).

This was the result after I did my own bouffant process using the technique from my stylist.

However, I have thick, long hair and Muse has fine, shoulder-length hair. It never occurred to me that my technique wouldn’t work on Muse. I started working the backcomb action on her hair and this is what she looked part way through the process.

The results were less than ideal and disappointing for both of us, as we both wanted her to have fabulous high hair for my party.

Just as we made the revelation, my fabulous and gorgeous friend Bryn showed up (who Muse doesn’t know very well). She’s a hair dresser by trade and I instantly knew what we needed to do. Bryn!! I hollered. Can you fix this?

It took about 20 minutes, during which time I began to circulate and welcome guests. And the end result was a fabulous looking and very relieved Muse. By thinking fast and on my feet, I was able to make big hair happen for her, even though I wasn’t able to do it myself.

Asking for help is a crucial skill for Femmes. There are so many things we can learn from each other. Almost everything I know about fatshion, beauty, make-up, self-esteem, and all the things in life I enjoy I’ve learned from my Femme sisters.

It is important to remember that vulnerability is a sign of strength, not weakness. Being open to showing people who you really are and articulating your needs is a great way to interact with people and make real, genuine connections. Had I been too proud to admit defeat when I realized 10 minutes into Muse’s bouffant that I was not going to achieve the result we were after, she would have been stuck with hair she hated and I would have been stuck with a nagging feeling of letting her down that would have dampened the spirit of my party. Being at a point in my life and my confidence where I can ask my friends for help when I need it without being stuck in a feedback loop of shame or worrying about not seeming self-assured actually makes me more confident.

Even if I don’t have a skill, I can get access to it pretty easily through my networks. And just like that Shih Tzu we found, I know I’ll never really be out on the street long enough for my fur to get cold.

Big Femme Love in 200 and Fine!!

P.S. I also posted another series of Correspondence if y’all are interested.

I’m betting at least SOME of you read my original post on the Femme Spiral — the Femme’s answer to being pegged as straight women, and the ying to the Butch blue star’s yang.

My former partner knew how much it meant to me to get it…but sadly, I’m broke, and can barely afford food, none the less tattoos.  She’s a massage therapist, and for my Channukah present, she decided to trade massage work with her tattoo artist, but instead of inking herself more, she’ll be letting me get my Femme Spiral. I met with the artist today, and will be going under the needle tomorrow. I am ridiculously excited!

Here are some concept ideas I gave to the artist for MY spiral (best thing about the spiral idea? You can do whatever you want with it; crop circles, nautiluses, DNA, etc):

Obviously, I wanted my spiral to be of the more ornate, and slightly organic type. I’m so psyched for tomorrow.

However, this concept only works if other people hop on board with me.  So I invite you all to join the Femme gang, and show your colors by getting your very own Femme Spiral on your wrist.  You’ll know about the secret symbol, and can explain it to others, if you care to, and help boost our gang membership.  

Of course, I’d never suggest someone who doesn’t want a tattoo go get one. But if you’ve been thinking about it, and wanting to, here you go. I’m putting a call out to all Femmes - design and get your own Femme Spiral tattoo!  And if you’re anti-tattoo, sharpie works too.

If you *do* get one, I’d love to see pictures. I know I’ll be posting mine!

-Essin’ Em

Recently, I’ve started meeting more queer people who seem to “get” the concept of Femme.

And it’s bloody nice, let me tell you.  I mean, some of the time, I feel a little silly or awkward; the other day, a transman offered to help me into my coat, and I kind of stared at him like “what am I supposed to do? OOOOH, my put my arm into the coat. Gotcha!”  But after the fact, I was thinking about how much I appreciated it.

Another circumstance was chatting with a cute Butch I met in New Mexico when I was at Pornotopia.  We were texting the other day, and she was saying that if she came to visit, she’d pamper me the way that a Femme deserved.  I asked her what that meant…I mean, what the hell DOES a Femme deserve? And what IS pampering?  Let’s just say it involved getting the bloody hell fucked out of me, a lovely hot shower and massage, and breakfast.

I’ve struggled a lot with the concept of chivalry, and lately, have thought (and written) a bit about how I’m so much more ok with it in the queer community than I was before I came out.  And slowly, step by step, I’m realizing what a turn on it can be to have people to whom I’m attracted open doors, pull out my chairs, help me into my coat, etc.  No, I’m not high maintainence, but I am a Femme, and I love it.

And is there anything wrong with that?

-Essin’ Em

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!

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

Via Facebook

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

MESSAGE: really cracking looking lady!!!! be lucky!

I’ll note that when this email was sent, my user picture on Facebook was the following:

FROM: Bevin Branlandingham, Jersey City, NJ

SUBJECT: Re: No Subject

MESSAGE: Dear Mr. Theobald:

Or may I call you Paul? I am unsure how to navigate the social proprieties within the social networking spheres on the internet. Do you know, Paul? Please let me know if using your first name upon our first conversation is offensive.

I received your message and am unsure of your intent. What does “cracking” mean in this context? You see, I understand “cracking” in the sense of the verb. Perhaps when one is “cracking” their knuckles or “cracking” their gum as my mom used to say. I daresay I do not wish to be compared to knuckles, as they are sort of an unsightly body part as far as body parts go. Maybe gum, though, especially if it was that new “5″ gum by Wrigley’s. Do you have “5″ in the UK? I like the names of the flavors, “Flare” is my favorite.

I looked up “cracking” in the urban dictionary, wondering if it perhaps was a slang term I’m not familiar with.

The first entry certainly can’t be right.

“A term used by a low quality or mental radio DJ to describe items or fill space.

As used in a sentence: That was a cracking track from Peter Andre and there’s more where that came from on our cracking show. So stay tuned!”

As the second entry also doesn’t make sense in this context either.

“Removing copyright protection from copyrighted software. Commonly used to obtain software without paying for it. Cracking is not by inserting a false or used serial number, but to insert other documents and files into the actual program to make it seem like it was registered by a paying customer, when it actually wasn’t.

As used in a sentence: My friend downloaded Microsoft Word, and is cracking it right now.”

However, the third entry might be right, since it indicates your use of “cracking” might be a compliment.

“Something sensational, excellent or cool.
Part of ‘what’s cracking’.
As used in a sentence: That was a cracking pool shot!”

Since I am prone to seeking out and absorbing compliments, I will assume you meant that I am sensational, excellent or cool. And thank you for the accolade!

Congratulations on your engagement! If your fiance needs any chocolate brown and light blue polka dot organza bags for favors, I’ve got a bunch leftover from my defunct wedding.

Best of luck unto you as well!

Sincerely,

Bevin

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

MESSAGE: Wow!!! what a reply!!! and sorry !!yes cracking does mean!! how shall i put it!!! stunning!!!!!!!!! really super looking lady!!! and surprised no guy has snapped her up yet? Take care Paul xx

Then I changed my userpic as follows for a bit. This is my first published Paparazzi shot, taken by NY Magazine at the Catherine Opie opening at the Guggenheim. My friend Muse managed to buy digital images from the photographer. She’s such a good supporter of the arts.

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

wow!!! u really are a stunner!!!! and stunner in good looking!!!! and no not all us guys look at boobs!!!!! some look at the girls face!!!! nice eyes and lovely smile!!!! be lucky!

FROM: Bevin Branlandingham, Jersey City, NJ

SUBJECT: Re: No Subject

MESSAGE: Dear Paul:

Thank you for the next round of compliments! I do appreciate that you find I have more assets than just my killer rack, though I will admit that as a lesbian, having a nice cleavage to look at really helps during the lonely times.

I have recently changed my user photo again so that you can see my lovely smile, since both of the previous pictures were really more of a smirk.

I have been thinking a lot about your question, wondering why a guy hasn’t snapped me up yet. It’s not necessarily that I am keeping myself off the market or anything, I do go on my fair share of dates. But having been through 5 years of functional monogamy with 2 back to back relationships and the bonus of a pathological liar scoundrel rebound, I’m a little skittish to jump into just anything.

I recently published a podcast about the Lesbian Footwarming Syndrome. This is the tendency of women to say “You’re a lesbian, I’m a lesbian, let’s keep each others’ feet warm.” With no further considerations for happiness, sustainability or compatibility. I delve in a little deeper to this in the episode, beyond just lesbianism. Especially when you add being fat, kinky, transgendered, dis/abled, a person of color or a myriad of additional identities, sometimes people fall into a scarcity mentality with dating.

The scarcity mentality is believing that there isn’t enough to go around. The fear that maybe there really isn’t someone out there that can love you for all you are AND be compatible with you. It manifests by settling for someone that isn’t right just to have someone or staying in a relationship that isn’t working anymore because the alternative of staying alone is terrifying. This is something sold to us with the dominant paradigm of couplehood in this society.

Paul, I don’t know what it’s like in the UK, but in the States it is definitely considered ideal for people to find a forever monogamous partnership and it is really devaluing to those of us who are critically engaged in our relationship status. Some queer femmes don’t do the monogamy thing, some choose alternative family structures and some just haven’t met the right person yet. I don’t want to “settle” for anyone and I certainly want to be treated well.

I was engaged once, he ended things but after the break-up I’ve been privy to so many behaviors that made me extremely thankful I never had children with him and “Omigod you dodged a bullets” that I feel really secure that no one having “snatched me up yet” is cool. So I suppose I could partner with whoever might show interest, but I am really waiting for the killer combo of chemistry, personality, looks and timing that I am positive will come my way. Until then my Shih Tzu, Macy, is doing a great job keeping my feet warm.

Further to that, recently in the States there has been an onslaught of gay hating voter initiatives banning same sex marriage. At one of the protests I donned this sign, because even though I don’t intend to get married eleven times or however many times Liz Taylor did, I still think I deserve the right to do so. Maybe just once a decade; hopefully to the right person again and again.

So here’s hoping I’m lucky and you are lucky, too, Paul. Squeeze on your fiance tonight and tell her how happy you are to have found one another, love is rare and beautiful. I’ve just found a bunch of fake flowers and straw hats my mom was going to put together for my shower. If you’re planning a garden wedding I’d be happy to send them off to you!

Cheers!!

Sincerely,

Bevin

I’ve just sat down to write the rough draft of my term paper about becoming femme. The problem here, is that I’m not really sure how I became femme. I mean, I’m sure that there are a number of factors that contributed to a femme identity, but it didn’t just hit me over the head one day. Right? It’s a process starting from birth, continuing throughout one’s Western (or otherwise) enculturation. I’m asked to write an autoethnography, where I study the effects of society upon me. So… what moments in my life created a favorable atmosphere for me to become femme? What moments in your life made you the way you are?

One of the most important things that I think actually lead to my femme gender was the fact that I grew up in conservative, interdenominational Christian churches. These organizations send a very clear message that sexuality is bad, unless it is between a man and a woman who are legally married to one another. I would venture to say that femme indicates a woman who freely expresses her sexuality. Also, within mainstream Christianity, women have very distinct roles from men’s, and femme is not one of them. Even though there are heroines in the sacred text that display femme behavior, these figures hardly come up in teaches. You’ll hear more about Mary, the virgin (asexual) mother of Jesus, than you’ll hear about Queen Esther’s predecessor as head wife, Vashti, who was banished for refusing to parade her naked body around at a party for the King’s buddies. Is Mary any more holy or laudable than Vashti?

Growing up as a girl teenager in The (white, capitalist patriarchal, heteronormative) Church, you’ll find yourself constantly reminded that your body is an instrument of sin. If your clothes are too revealing, if your pants don’t meet your shirt at your midriff, if your makeup is too flashy, you could be labelled a harlot, regardless of your good or bad intentions. As a female, it is your responsibility to protect all men from your body (isn’t this why women are blamed for rape?) by dressing appropriately, and not acting sexually. They’ve tried a number of ways to convince me that it is only out of common courtesy that we help our “brothers” to keep from sinning over our lewd, luscious, lascivious, lovely bodies but I am so far not convinced that it is my fault or responsibility. Part of my femme identity is a rebellion from this notion that I’m at fault when men have inappropriate sexual fantasies about me, or any other woman. It is absolutely inexcusable to promote this kind of hateful, oppressive belief. hmph!

Needless to say, I tried my best to suppress my femininity, and hide my curves from about age 12 to 22. But what the Church didn’t understand was that my plain, unfeminine (un-anything, really) appearance did not save me from the immature, sexually frustrated young men in my classes. In my junior year trigonometry class, the (old, white, heterosexist, patriarchal, etc.) instructor refused to move the student who would sit in front of me every day. The young man tried to talk to me all the time, distracted me from the lesson, disrupted the class, and said lewd things to and about me. This went on for most of the entire fall semester. I think I blocked it out of my mind, because it did not cross my thoughts for a long time afterward. This happened just after I left the art school that was “making” me gay, I was at a new school across town, trying to figure out how to pass as a heterosexual woman. I had all that baggage, and here comes along this 17 year old boy to make it painfully clear that straight or gay, appearing sexual or not, I was always going to be subject to the scrutiny of men.

But I became femme before I really even knew what it was. Maybe the moment that it was really solidified was last summer, sitting alone upstairs in my borrowed bedroom (I was sharing a room with a friend who was traveling abroad) surfing YouTube and I ran across the 1971 segment of “If These Walls Could Talk 2″ where Amy and Linda meet by chance at a butch-femme dive bar. Hah! I think I realized I was very much a sub/bottom when I saw their sex scene. That cocky smirk simply did me in.

Maybe it was the proliferation of butch voices in my life when I came home from the missions organization where I used to live. My very good friend Kay, and several of her friends are masculine identified females. I knew that I was somehow different from them, and I delighted in the way that we exchanged support be performing our butch and femme roles for each other. She always called me a femme, and I resisted the notion because I thought it meant being picky, prissy, whiny, and not at all resourceful or able. But somewhere down the line I realized that femme was powerful… and I just fell into the role. I delighted in playing my part because it didn’t feel like an act. When I came out (when I came back from the missions field) I remembered that femininity is not just for men. It is also for women and for myself.

So. What events in your lives lead you to a femme identity? Or a butch one? Or any other gender?

Hi! I’m a new blogger on TFG, and this is my introductory post:

I wanted to play baseball. All throughout my childhood, I would chomp big wads of gum so that it looked like I had chew in my cheeks, and stand on our back porch winding up with snowballs. When we played softball in the fifth grade, Mr. Vokoun let me pitch one time and it became clear that my fantasy of baseball had no relationship to the reality of my aim. I quit, accepting my body couldn’t do the thing I desired of it, a mistake I’ve been guilty of many many times.

For a long time, I didn’t think my body could be femme. Having been, and continuing to be fat, made me feel that I couldn’t be cute or sexy, soft or delicate (which of course, is a narrow definition of femme anyway). I hid my body under baggy jeans and sweatshirts, wore ball caps like it was my job, and grew more and more silent throughout high school and into college. Before I came out as queer, I remember having multiple discussions with my friends and mentors about gender presentations, conversations in which I routinely insisted I was more butch than femme. Turns out, femme and butch aren’t opposites and don’t exist on a binary. Turns out I can be hella femme, a fact I indulged and delighted in this past August at the 2008 Femme Conference, when I got a glimpse of what femme could be, and what a femme community could entail. It’s exciting but new: a place where I’m hoping to find comfort and support, while at the same time challenging my own assumptions and moving past damaged and constructed notions of bodies and butches, fatness and femme-ininity.

I never did take up baseball but I’m more than a little committed to making sense of this queer identity. So thank you, thank you to the Femme’s Guide for giving me the space to do so. I’m looking forward to many fabulous femme times ahead.

It’s difficult for me to find the words to describe the delight I experienced upon discovering the arrival of Del LaGrace Volcano & Ulrika Dahl’s gorgeous new book Femmes of Power: Exploding Queer Femininities that came to me all the way from London!!! Firstly, there is no denying that this is a beautiful book, but like femmes ourselves it is more than a shiny exterior.

Femmes of Power is both femmetheory at it’s finest, and the grandest of parties filled with so many interesting people and spellbinding stories that you can’t pull yourself away…I carried the book everywhere with me after it arrived in order to devour it on the subway, or while waiting in line.

It is not an exaggeration to say that I fell in love with this book! Del’s photography captures the essence of every femme featured, and Ulrika’s words bring to life the true wonder and diversity of femme experience crossing lines of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, and nationality. Femmes of Power is a canonical text of femme, capturing the breadth of our community and positioning femme as the possibility of being gender transgressive, something outside of “woman,” and not always bound to “lesbian.” I have no doubt this book will be treasured by femmes for generations to come.

Femmes of Power has yet to be released in the states, if you are in Europe, it can be purchased online at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Femmes-Power-Exploding-Queer-Feminities/dp/1846686644. I believe that a US release is forthcoming (Amazon.com says April 2009). Believe me it’s worth the wait! Femmes of Power is worthy of a place of honor on the bookshelf of every femme, those who love femmes, and all who stand in solidarity with us.

Hi. My name is Essin’ Em, and I’m a Femme.

I’ve now identified as a “Femme” and as femme for a year and a half, maybe a little more.  It’s been a hard journey…first reconciling my ideas of feminine vs. femme, and then figuring out what it all meant.  Being with different partners. Being on my own.  It’s hard to figure out your own identity when you’re living it, as it morphs and changes, and you are trying to pin something down that is constantly moving and shifting, as your life moves and shifts.  I have had some trouble being a femme.

This past spring, I was finally over J enough to start going out to the dyke bar in Philly, and to the month queer party.  I’d go, I’d dance on my own, I’d eye cute women, and try to get their attention.  I’d fail. And I’d go home alone and depressed.  There were not many Femmes in the scene….self identifed lipstick lesbians and andro dykes seemed to rule, with a few exceptions.  And I was a self-made Femme, not one wearing a jean skirt with boots, a bandana tied around my neck. I did not fit in.

Then I went to Dinah Shore.  This was my second year, and I had high hopes. The first year, I had my first time really being fucked by someone queer, and they were the one that helped me to realize my Femme identity. I was looking forward to FINALLY having someone “get it.”

But alas, I went to a different Dinah party at a different hotel. It was much trendier, much more LA, much more “skinny women in bikinis.” Even the butchier looking women were wearing eye liner and high heels. The only fellow Femme I found (with her Butch partner) was in her 30s or 40s.  I felt very alone, although still cute:

I came back disappointed and sunburned. I was finally figuring out MY identity, and no one wanted me.

I spoke a bit with Sinclair about it, who said that I needed to figure out my own way of hitting on people, of being me, and if people didn’t like it, well then, fuck them (or not as the case might be).  I tried to get up more courage, but it was hard.  For all I am an outgoing person, I don’t know how to flirt, and I certainly do not go up and approach people I think are cute.  But I tried.  

One night at the club, I went up to a woman and said “I’ve been trying to think of a reason to come over here and flirt with you, but I can’t, so I’ll just ask; would you like to dance?” She looked shocked, told me her name, shook my hand, and told me she’d love to, but was leaving.  I said ok, went back to the dance floor. She was there at least another half hour - it would have been nicer for me if she’d just told me I wasn’t her type.

I tried a few more times…in different (yet always slightly awkward, because that’s who I am) ways to chat up people I liked.  Nothing. I was beginning to feel like nothing would ever work, and I was destined to be a lonely Femme forever.

Then I met a woman after a derby bout - a friend of a former player.  And I saw her again at the next after party, and we danced.  And then we dykes from the team went to another club, and she came with, and we danced.  And I saw her while dancing a few days later, and asked her to go for a walk with me.  She did, and we chatted about the most random things.  A few weeks later, I took her home from another derby after party, and she invited me up. Good things happened.  And then 3 days later, I moved away from Philly.

Once in Colorado, I decided to start afresh. I’d just practice flirting with anyone I found remotely attractive.  I mean, I wasn’t established here yet - it didn’t really matter what people thought of me.  I had all the time in the world.

The third day here, I was getting a new license at the DMV. I’d been waiting about two hours, and then someone walked in, wearing headphones and a shirt that said “it must be my boyish charms.”  I wasn’t sure how they identified, but said person sat down right in front of me.  ”Damn,” I thought, “how am I supposed to try to make eye contact from BEHIND them?”  I sat for a moment, and thought WWSD? (What Would Sinclair Do?)  I had no idea. But I did now what Sinclair would tell ME to do; not to sit there doing nothing, but to do SOMETHING proactive. So I did. I got up, and sat next to said hot person.  Who paid no attention, and was listening to music on the iPod.  I was already halfway there, so I figured in for a penny, in for a pound.  I tapped their shoulder. “I love your ink - I’m new here. Where did you get it done?” And so the conversation began. And then we wound up going on three dates, and became good friends.

There was the girl at the dyke bar.  I was waiting for the Team Gina concert, and she was there, an Ace card tattooed on her forearm, playing with a deck of cards.  I was killing time, and had nothing to lose. “So what significance do cards have in your life?” I asked because I wanted to know. By this point, I was done trying to figure out the “right way” to flirt. Since then, we’ve hooked up twice, and have become each other’s therapy buddies.

I think my best “self made Femme” moment happened about two or three weeks ago. I was out dancing with my current friend-with-benefits’ sister and her friend. And guess who showed up? The aforementioned woman from the DMV. (Welcome to Denver - you thought the NYC queer scene was incestuous?) I had decided to dress up all 80’s for the hell of it (I do things like that):

Let’s just put it out there; I looked ridiculous. And I really didn’t care…something to do with having been a theatre person.  Anyways, I was dancing, having fun, and then walked outside to cool off with the person from the DMV. I step outside, and see someone out there who I think is pretty damn hot. And what do I do (keeping in mind I am stone sober)? Do I try to think of a smooth pick up line? Do I try to finagle my way into her conversation? Oh no no no. I walk outside, look her up and down once, and say “well, damn. You’re pretty hot, just so you know.”

Oh no I didn’t. Oh yes I did. I *am* ridiculous at times (also, keep in mind I was wearing the above, PLUS a giant faux fur cow coat).  Anyways, turns out she’d been chatting with DVM person, so I let them go back at it.  Eventually, I heard cute woman say “I’m from Albuquerque.”  I tell her that I’ll be there in a few weeks for a feminist porn film festival, and hand her a card, telling her she should come with if interested.  She kind of gave me a frightened deer in the headlights look.  I stuck around with the group for a bit, being my usually feisty self, and then we parted ways.  And then nothing.

Until last weekend; I received a text from an unknown number. It was that woman from the bar, wanting to know if I was presenting/teaching in New Mexico. I told her I wasn’t right now, that I’d be back for that, but that I’d love to do dinner, or have her come with to the festival, dot dot dot, etc. She texted back that I should live life, and do both - dinner and the festival.  A few more texts (she told me she had wheels, when I pointed out I was flying in), and boom. I have a date for this weekend apparently.

Crazy. For more than a year in Philly, I struggled with my identity, and trying to be myself as people ignored me.  Yet I’ve been in Denver about four months, and in that time, I’ve gone on more dates than I have the entire last two years.  I’ve hit on random people in random places, and gone out and/or had sex with five of them.  There is a Butch who works the ladies night at a local club. I’d kind of hit on her a while back, and then didn’t hear much, so put her out of mind. The other night, my friend-with-benefits and I went, and she was working. She told me she’d missed me, and that this was a pleasant surprise, and so on. I told her that I’d deleted her number, since she’d stopped texting and calling me, and that I’d leave the ball in her court.  I was feeling pretty feisty, and didn’t feel the need to flirt or suck up, or anything like that.  Oddly enough, the next morning, she texted me, telling me how it’d been so nice to see me.

So maybe it’s Denver. Or maybe I’ve stopped caring so much about what other people think, and I’ve finally come into Femme. I am being myself, my femme self, and it just so happens to be working for me.  Either way, I’m finally accepting of and happy with my identity, my presentation, and my behavior. And so what if I’m awkward and have no filter? I’m also quite entertaining, intelligent, and a freaking saber tooth tiger in bed

-Essin’ Em