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My sixteen year old daughter Ariel has inspired me since she came screaming into this world and making demands to be heard by all. I have learned to be more fearless, embrace my youthfull side, love deeper and want to be a better person not only for her, but myself. She has encouraged me to take risks and not be afraid of failure. She has taught me to its ok to laugh at myself and to find humor in tough situations. That young woman inspires me daily and I love her for that.
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Does that make sense? |
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Today... I rejoice in the simplest forms of my femme self. Throughout the years, I have lived and loved both butches (soft and oh so hard) and (save me) a femme, and still I remained the femme I am. Regardless of the clothes I wear, or the makeup upon my face, or who I shared my bed with. My gender is femme, my home is that as a lesbian in my community of gay/lesbian/transgender/bi-sexual and my body is that of a woman. What a great place Arwen... Thank you for opening the dialogue. Julie |
What does Femme look like on me, and who inspires me? Well, the answer to the first one is way complicated, but the answer to the second is way simple: You inspire me. Every Femme in my community inspires me.
I learned to talk about being Femme in the Queer Female Community, online. I didn't have anything comparable where I was--mostly, I think, from lack of transportation, because certainly there was a Femme presence in Seattle when I was in the PNW!--and finding first the books in the bookstore (The Persistent Desire comes immediately to mind) and then a community online was mind-blowing and life-altering for me. At the point that I outgrew my first community, I was given a link to my second. In the meantime I moved from the PNW to the Midwest to the Southwest back to the Midwest, and the only stability I had through those years of unsettled relationships was my online community. That's where I did my growing, and that's where I learned my language, and that's where I finally came into my understanding of the kind of Femme that I am. I still remember my shocked relief when I first understood that it was okay to relax and just be who I always had been. It was so hard in the years when "being a girl" was not okay!! I think this makes me different in some ways from Femmes who have come out after it was okay to be Femme again... if you never feel rejected for your femininity or for your identity, if you never feel rejected for your energy or for your desires, then your experience of being a Femme is going to be more whole than mine has been; you will not have to spend time repairing the broken edges of so much of your inner being, and you will have a better understanding of yourself from the beginning. Being Femme, for me, is not about what I look like. That's been a huge struggle for me. I have to work hard to quiet my inner fears, my legacy not just of the past when being Femme was not okay, but also my legacy of the years when being Femme was celebrated but ONLY if you matched the look of High Femme. Not only am I no glamor girl, I'm not particularly pretty AND I have to fight the masculinizing effects of PCOS. All of that does a real number on a person who wants to celebrate her femininity. Before I go any further, I want to say that for me, Femme and femininity are NOT tied as tightly together as for some Femmes. For me, Femme is tied to "femaleness" in very strong ways--but there are lots of ways to be "female" and they are not all stereotypically feminine. I have found that when a Femme is strong and physically capable, willing and able to tackle "men's work," she is OFTEN told she is not Femme enough, or told she is really a Butch, when the truth is she is a most powerful female being and utterly Femme, both at once. The two are inseparable as far as I can see. I have not yet met a Femme who is NOT powerfully female. I have met Femmes who are not powerfully feminine. They are no less Femmes for that. I have met Femmes who are not glamor girls, nor not High Femmes. They also are not less Femme for that. Truth be told, I strongly suspect most of us are not into the glamor girl look in every day life, yanno? And that is also me. Femme on me looks female, inescapably so, and I like to think that my energy comes across feminine--but on any given day, I look like a frump or like a country housewife, like a college student or like a harried mom, like a gardener, like an artist, like someone's grandma, like your neighbor down the street. On any given day I look like just another human being of the female variety. How am I happiest expressing my Femme energy? With a Butch or Transman. I personally need that connection, not just from a partner but from friends. I feel whole as a Femme when there are Butches and Transmen I can connect with, so that the energy makes a complete circuit. I also need Femme friends. One of the things I have learned over the years is that straight women will not fill this need. There is a bond between Femmes, a way the energy connects which is, for me, not sexual and yet is still vitally important. It takes both Butch/Trans and Femme energy in my life to give me the foundation I need, to be the community which sustains me. It takes my sister Femmes to make me whole as much as it takes my beloved Butches and Transmen. |
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And I cannot agree more, there is a connection among our femme sisters, in which we cannot possibly feel with our straight sisters, at least for me. Julie |
Oh Julie! The part of my post you quoted? It just kills me. The pain I see in a sister Femme's eyes when she is even invisible to her own people, invisible to her own partner... it kills me. We are not paper dolls, not cookie cutter stereotypes. We're humans and as such we are infinitely varied, even within our similarities.
Thank you for your comments, June. You know, I started out the same way, thinking I was a Femme because Butches turned me on and hey, I really DIDN'T want to be with a man, puzzle solved forever, woooohoooo!! But the more I lived it, the more I discussed it, the more I began to see that I was talking about my very self, the core of who I am. The core of who I am doesn't depend on anyone else. I'm me no matter what. And yes *grin* the French is confusing me too, lol... |
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Awww...sorry...I was being le snarke' but trying to be funny since the thread is a Salon. P.S. You said "French" huh huh huhuhuhuh [/derail] |
First, a quick welcome to Boots13. Just so you know, butches are welcome here. :) I don't want to have a "femmes only" thread (yet, lol.)
To everyone else, thank you so much. I'm crying reading some of you. Others I nod my head because I know that feeling. Then others of you make me laugh (in a good way.) Thank you for making this Salon a comfortable place to express ourselves in all of our ways that we do! So I have a third question for us. (Feel free to answer any of the questions or just speak your piece...it's all good.) THIRD QUESTION: (this is focusing on the art part of the salon description) Is there a song or painting or book or poem that is your own personal femme motto/manifesto/creed? Like maybe Gretchen Phillips "Redneck Woman" or Aine Minogue's "Lady of Shallot" for music? Perhaps Degas Ballerina's or Rosie the Riveter for art? Maybe Laura Ingalls Wilder or Jo from Little Women is a fiction heroine of yours? So, do you have one? Do you need one? Do you want one? |
Arwen... This most recent question has brought back sweet memories of my youth.
I always knew I was different, from that first kiss at age 12, hiding in the bathroom with Liz Wolf -- The girl who burned her eyelashes off, to void her beauty. My first exposure to understanding who I was, was when I found the book by Quentin Crisp, albeit, not a female bodied femme, but a femme non-the-less. Quentin wrote his memoir "The Naked Civil Servant," I must have been 17 when I read this, and it opened my eyes, to what the world perhaps had in store for us. When I moved to New York in my early 20's, I looked him up in the phone book and telephoned, thanked him for his gifts, and was invited for tea. He will and always has remained with me in my spirit. Finally... Who could not resist the words of the brilliant Radclyffe Hall (The Well of Loneliness). Yet another brilliant and strong force in this world of ours. I still have this quote and carry it with me always. "You're neither unnatural, nor abominable, nor mad; you're as much a part of what people call nature as anyone else; only you're unexplained as yet -- you've not got your niche in creation. ~ The Well of Loneliness, 1928 " — Radclyffe Hall Let their memories live on within us. Julie |
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This was so lovely. Thank you very much for sharing! I have not read that book. I'm thinking that I should! I am so impressed that you met Quentin Crisp. WOW. What was that like? That's so amazing. And Radclyffe Hall....sigh...I need to reread that. When I was first coming out, a friend handed me two books and told me to read them at the same time. She recommended one chapter of each. Well of Loneliness and RubyFruit Jungle. An odd combination to say the least, but they balanced one another quite well. I think if I'd read Well by itself, I might have .... Well who knows what I might have. |
Ahh, Arwen, you do ask difficult questions... I thought I couldn't answer this one. Seriously, the only thing I could think of was "lil bit" and that's just patently ridiculous... so I mentioned it to Gryph and Nick. And then a comment Gryph made about Gloria Gaynor's song, "I am Who I Am" made me recognize that I actually DO have something like you're asking about, but it isn't about how to be Femme, exactly.... and it isn't about Gloria Gaynor, either.
Tis Albert, in the Broadway version of La Cage Aux Folles... to that point of the musical, Albert has been nothing but a caricature, "aging queen shallowly seeking after troublesome drama-laden attention." Then his partner asks him to leave the house while the potential in-laws visit.... and Albert is suddenly revealed as a complex, deep character, vulnerable and deeply hurt, and we realize that the caricature is merely the face he shows to the world to protect his inner being. His defiant, aching, deep understanding of this world and his place in it, of what it takes to claim a place in it, of what it costs to compromise his place in it, is revealed in this one long moment of song--and although he resumes his caricature afterward and maintains it for the rest of the show, WE are changed and can never see him so shallowly again. THAT version of "I Am Who I Am" has informed my life as a Femme, whether I was living with partners who believed that my being Femme cast them into highly resented "roles" as Butches or whether they believed my being Femme "contaminated" them with too much femininity. That version and the vision of Albert singing it--along with "A Little More Mascara"--sustained me through the long hard years when I was caged myself, living a lie in my mother's folly, desperately aware of my place in the world and what the compromise was costing me. You could say that the songs are about being queer, not Femme. You could say that they sustained me as a queer being, not specifically as a Femme. You might be right---but me, I cannot separate out "queer" from "Femme" in myself. For me, to be one is to be the other, inescapably so; and that, I think, is the point of the music also, that for Albert, to be queer was to be a performing queen. He could not separate out the two, either. In some way, those two concepts are the same. The caricature of queerness he presented to everyone may have been the shield and armor that protected his inmost deep and complex being, but it was also his gift to the world, his wryly humorous presentation of a core queer femininity.... and what is lil bit, if not my own wryly humorous version of a core queer femininity? I am who I am, a queer Femme being coping with an often hostile world, and from Albert I have learned to celebrate every part of that as often as possible and to cling, stubbornly and without apology, to what is truly authentic no matter how I might decide to present it--and no matter how anyone else, even a partner, might receive it. |
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Quentin Crisp was truly brilliant in every aspect of his being. When I telephoned he was taken aback, here was this young woman who just wanted to say thank you, and really what he told me upon meeting him... He thought he had been forgotten. He knew his messages were important, but he did not think the youth of today (then) would understand. How wrong he was. He did inform me, I did not know how to apply eyeshadow and suggested a vivid blue, which would go nicely with my green eyes. He had a humor, wit and sarcasm about him, which has gone untouched and a warmth which was not deliberate. He was much smaller than I had imagined he would be, and still he wore his hair perfectly coiffed and applied his makeup which sheer precision. I wish I had taken a photograph of us, but I was pretty much in shock to be sitting in his dining room. He must have been in his early 70's then. I was given the same two books as you. I need to read Radclyffe Hall again, but think I will pass on Rubyfruit Jungle, I never really got that book, maybe now that I am older, I will. Perhaps... Julie |
This is a great topic and I've really enjoyed reading everyone's contributions so far.
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But, as you said, I would still be femme if there were no butches in the world. It took me a long time to embrace the identity of femme. To decide and feel for myself what the term actually meant to me personally. In the beginning, I had to take "femme" and separate it from everything I despise about how society in general uses emphasized femininity to perpetuate male domination over women. That was a personal struggle. Somehow my life inside the queer community made me feel powerful enough to embrace my femme self and to define myself in a way that I'm comfortable with. I think, in part, it was being around butches who also thumbed their noses at society’s norms. It was also from being around other femmes who took the power to define for themselves. Here, in this community, I don’t have to reject the girlyness that makes me feel less powerful in broader society. Here, being a femme doesn’t assign me to a lower status. Being a femme has given me the power to be as feminine on the outside as I feel on the inside and not feel disadvantaged. I'm a femme in my little black dress. I'm a femme in my soccer mom get up. I'd still be a femme if I decided to dress up in my lover's men's jeans, boots, and button up flannel shirts. |
Sandra Cisneros, from "Loose Woman"
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And feast on it. When all along I thought that's what a woman was. They say I'm a bitch. Or witch. I've claimed the same and never winced. They say I'm a macha, hell on wheels, viva-la-vulva, fire and brimstone, man-hating, devastating, boogey-woman lesbian. Not necessarily, but I like the compliment. The mob arrives with stones and sticks to maim and lame and do me in. All the same, when I open my mouth, they wobble like gin. Diamonds and pearls tumble from my tongue. Or toads and serpents. Depending on the mood I'm in. I like the itch I provoke. The rustle of rumor like crinoline. I am the woman of myth and bullshit. (True. I authored some of it.) I built my house of ill repute. Brick by brick. Labored, loved and masoned it. I live like so. Heart as sail, ballast, rudder, bow. Rowdy. Indulgent to excess. My sin and success-- I think of me to gluttony. By all accounts I am a danger to society. I'm Pancha Villa. I break laws, upset the natural order, anguish the Pope and make fathers cry. I am beyond the jaw of law. I'm la desperada, most-wanted public enemy. My happy picture grinning from the wall. I strike terror among the men. I can't be bothered what they think. ¡Que se vayan a la ching chang chong! For this, the cross, the Calvary. In other words, I'm anarchy. I'm an aim-well, shoot-sharp, sharp-tongued, sharp-thinking, fast-speaking, foot-loose, loose-tongued, let-loose, woman-on-the-loose loose woman. Beware, honey. I'm Bitch. Beast. Macha. ¡Wáchale! Ping! Ping! Ping! I break things. |
After moving for most of the day, I have utterly no brain cells left. I just wanted to say that I really love what is happening in this thread. Bit, Albert is one of my faves. Great correlation! Semantics, uh huh! uh huh! :) Julie, I'm still jealous. Selly, I LOVE that poem! Wow. I need to look her up, don't I!
Anyone can post a question, by the way. I like the ongoing discussions very much. |
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What a beautiful mouthful this is. Eloquent and inspiring. I will never see the word SALON the same again. How does femme look on me?? I would confess to being in the midst of reconstruction. I'm not what I was, or yet what I have set out to be. Lot's of changes, is that not part of the Karmic re-balancing that happens when we move to Austin? Sometimes I feel as though I am being boiled down to my finest essence here. My question would be isn't it time to bottle and sell this already?????? Ah the journey not the destination, right?hmmmmmmm. As far as labeling the product? I am leaning toward the fierce Femme notion. Fiercely Feminine, with out apology. I know I am tired of being good, and that the delicious notion of being naughty, as in very, would be a welcome addition to the menu..........We will see how this emerges.xoxoxo more soon. ~Pashi |
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I'd love to hear how this speaks to your femme self, Blush. Because I haven't read it, I'm clueless. This is not to say I won't still be clueless after I've read it. HA Quote:
And I've loved the idea of Salons for a long time. They were very big in England. And they are a great plot device in a lot of my historical romances. LOL Here's to your Fierce Femme selves, all y'all! |
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