Open Letter: Dear Femme

[Gemme]

Originally Posted by blush

It's the Cinderalla complex. Or part of it. We are taught that there is only ONE beautiful woman in any given room. If that's "not us," then it must be something flawed in ourselves.

I don't think it's in "our nature," though. I think it's Disney-based.

I can see that, I suppose, but for myself...it's not so. In one room, I can see the beauty in everyone, except myself. My internal mirror is jacked up.

Disney does promote the 'one girl is beautiful and perfect and everyone else is an ugly stepsister or non-essential to the story' theory. So does every bit of advertising I see on TV, movies, magazines, etc.

[Lynn]

Originally Posted by Gemme

I can see that, I suppose, but for myself...it's not so. In one room, I can see the beauty in everyone, except myself. My internal mirror is jacked up.

That's really more where I am coming from. I admire beauty and confidence in other women. I'm kind of oblivious to the idea of competition, and I never would consider myself a threat to anyone. And, after being around these sites and "communities" for a few years, I realize that this is rather naive.

I do think that every group has an established hierarchy, whether or not we're all aware of it. When I was in college, I really liked one of my classmates, and I tried to reach out to be her friend. She was pretty rude to me so I finally just asked her, "You and I have so much in common, and I really like you. Why do you keep pushing me away?" She told me that it was because I was a threat to her and to her position in our program. She told me that I, like her, was smart, pretty, and I asked good questions. And, that was too much for her. I was flabbergasted. Just floored.

[blush]

Originally Posted by Gemme

I can see that, I suppose, but for myself...it's not so. In one room, I can see the beauty in everyone, except myself. My internal mirror is jacked up.

Disney does promote the 'one girl is beautiful and perfect and everyone else is an ugly stepsister or non-essential to the story' theory. So does every bit of advertising I see on TV, movies, magazines, etc.

I'm not trying to throw Walt under the bus. Of course, the Cinderella story is a Grimm Fairy Tale from wayway back in the day. I think it is so rampant in our culture that we have to fight NOT to fall back into that "one girl" mentality.

I agree with you, I've fought the conditioning too. Usually what I find beautiful in a person has little bearing on their clothes.

As an aside, kids are best, imo, at seeing people for who they "really" are.

[Medusa]

Speaking of internal mirrors.

I am really resonating with the posts here. SUCH good space.

I used to have a kind of reverse-Cinderella complex going on around my weight. I would scan the room when I was around other women to confirm that I , indeed, was the fattest one in the room. A lot of that self-hating bullshit was the need for my widdle baby feelings to stay firmly planted in their diaper because working through them was much scarier than sitting in a pile of shitty feelings.

At one of the first events I ever attended, waaaay back in 2003, I met up with a bunch of Butch/Femme/Queer folks in Kansas City. Some of those very same people are on this site
Up until that event, I had only shown myself from the "myspace" angle. You know the one: You hold the camera WAAAAYYY above your head and look up innocently so that all of your chins are hidden, your wrinkles fall to the back, and you look ever SOOOO tiny!!! WIDDLE BITTY THAANG!
Needless to say, I had much trepidation about attending and went on a CRAZY crash diet, eating ice cubes, riding an exercise bike for 4 hours a night, taking laxatives, and wrapping myself in a rubber suit while doing housework. Before the gathering in Kansas City, I lost about 30 pounds in the 6 weeks prior, all the while telling myself that I "wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going".
I went.
I was scared that people would judge me for being fat. I was scared that people wouldnt like me. I was afraid of being the fattest person there.
Over all, the party was amazing and painful for 100 different reasons.

Once home, a "friend" sent me an email that had been circulating between 2 other Femmes talking about how I was "much fatter than they expected" and that I "was probably fatter than X and Y combined."

It was painful but I think a small part of me already had a nice soft bed made for the validation of my self-hatred.

The moral of the story is that my Princess often felt like "everyone who isnt me".

I could have had a very nice after school special about "tricking" everyone into thinking I was skinny and arriving with my fat self and people falling in love with me anyway. It didnt happen because I made no room for anyone to love me. (and dont get me wrong, I wasnt responsible for the gross behavior or judgment coming from other folks). But I walked into that party *expecting* to not be good enough. Because it was what I knew. It was what was comfortable for me. It was what fit my history.

Im writing a new life every day now, but I never erase the past.

I lost my train of thought, but the rainbow vomit looks kinda nice on the floor here. *tip-toe*

[blush]

Originally Posted by Medusa

Speaking of internal mirrors.

I am really resonating with the posts here. SUCH good space.

I used to have a kind of reverse-Cinderella complex going on around my weight. I would scan the room when I was around other women to confirm that I , indeed, was the fattest one in the room. A lot of that self-hating bullshit was the need for my widdle baby feelings to stay firmly planted in their diaper because working through them was much scarier than sitting in a pile of shitty feelings.

At one of the first events I ever attended, waaaay back in 2003, I met up with a bunch of Butch/Femme/Queer folks in Kansas City. Some of those very same people are on this site
Up until that event, I had only shown myself from the "myspace" angle. You know the one: You hold the camera WAAAAYYY above your head and look up innocently so that all of your chins are hidden, your wrinkles fall to the back, and you look ever SOOOO tiny!!! WIDDLE BITTY THAANG!
Needless to say, I had much trepidation about attending and went on a CRAZY crash diet, eating ice cubes, riding an exercise bike for 4 hours a night, taking laxatives, and wrapping myself in a rubber suit while doing housework. Before the gathering in Kansas City, I lost about 30 pounds in the 6 weeks prior, all the while telling myself that I "wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going".
I went.
I was scared that people would judge me for being fat. I was scared that people wouldnt like me. I was afraid of being the fattest person there.
Over all, the party was amazing and painful for 100 different reasons.

Once home, a "friend" sent me an email that had been circulating between 2 other Femmes talking about how I was "much fatter than they expected" and that I "was probably fatter than X and Y combined."

It was painful but I think a small part of me already had a nice soft bed made for the validation of my self-hatred.

The moral of the story is that my Princess often felt like "everyone who isnt me".

I could have had a very nice after school special about "tricking" everyone into thinking I was skinny and arriving with my fat self and people falling in love with me anyway. It didnt happen because I made no room for anyone to love me. (and dont get me wrong, I wasnt responsible for the gross behavior or judgment coming from other folks). But I walked into that party *expecting* to not be good enough. Because it was what I knew. It was what was comfortable for me. It was what fit my history.

Im writing a new life every day now, but I never erase the past.

I lost my train of thought, but the rainbow vomit looks kinda nice on the floor here. *tip-toe*

I wonder sometimes why the horrible, ugly things stay with us the longest? Why do they seem the most true? Why do we blow off the compliments that waaaay outnumber the asshat shit? Why do we feel that the compliments are insincere, but the asshat shit are an accurate assessment of ourselves?

[Medusa]

Originally Posted by blush

I wonder sometimes why the horrible, ugly things stay with us the longest? Why do they seem the most true? Why do we blow off the compliments that waaaay outnumber the asshat shit? Why do we feel that the compliments are insincere, but the asshat shit are an accurate assessment of ourselves?

And here's an even better question:

I dont know if this is true for anyone else but I remember in blinding detail the negative comments that other women have made to me. Very rarely do comments from Butches, Transmen, or Men sting me in the same way. (well, except there WAS that one time that an ex of mine circulated a rumor that I was actually a man )

Perhaps its because of the desired validation. Perhaps its because of my family history with other women. Perhaps its an acceptance thing. I think that for me, a tiny part of it feels like a violation. Cant put my finger on it just yet.

[SuperFemme]

I have a problem with compliments. If somebody tells me I am pretty, I do NOT believe them and am immediately suspect. I was a total outcast in school and started high school at the age of 12. When I finally gained some self confidence it was because I had succeeded immensely in my professional life. Then one day I went to gay pride and got run down. My self worth plummeted because I emerged from a coma a completely different person. I have never felt part of a group or a crowd, yet everyone assumes I am and that I float through life with no worries. Why is is SO much easier for me to take a stinging comment than a compliment?

[atomiczombie]

Originally Posted by SuperFemme

Why is is SO much easier for me to take a stinging comment than a compliment?

You are an amazing person and I am giving you a

[cara]

I think the things that hurt the most are the things you hear behind your back. 'Dusa, if I had known that sort of email was circulating after the get-together in KC, I would have said something. Honestly, I think that situation is more telling of the people writing and sending the email than anything. And I hear you about both the amazing and painful aspects of that event.

Also, I think the horrible, ugly comments stay with us the longest because we have a nature to dwell on the negative. Well, I shouldn't speak for all femmes. I should say *I* have a tendency to dwell on the negative. As I get older and more comfortable in my own skin, I'm finding it easier to let it roll off my shoulders, though. I'm also finding it easier to leave the rubbish where I found it. You don't like me because I'm fat, shy, and quirky? Good! One more narrow-minded person out of my life.

:heart:

[julieisafemme]

Originally Posted by blush

I wonder sometimes why the horrible, ugly things stay with us the longest? Why do they seem the most true? Why do we blow off the compliments that waaaay outnumber the asshat shit? Why do we feel that the compliments are insincere, but the asshat shit are an accurate assessment of ourselves?

I think for me it is because the bad stuff reinforces my core beliefs about myself. My therapist calls it selective filtering and it is a cognitive error. I am constantly gathering evidence that I am bad. Those things that do not fit the core belief I have are discarded. This is a very hard habit to break. I work at it every day. Some days I do very well and other days it is like I have not learned a thing over the past 4 years of therapy.

[Bit]

I missed this convo...

Originally Posted by Kim

It struck me how our expression of femininity via clothes/outward appearance is so very different than how straight people express themselves. I peruse some of the fashion sites that are predominantly straight (I presume femmes are there but I haven't seen them), and there is a myriad of women -- in skirts, jeans, dresses, shorts, bumming out, dressing to the hilt, perfect makeup, no makeup -- there is no hint of a hierarchy or "more feminine than..." based on appearance, clothes, etc.

Hi Kim! Yanno, that's something I've thought for a long long time, that most straight women don't obsess over whether or not they're feminine.

Everything I've seen tells me that what most straight women obsess over is whether or not they're fat.

When you really think about it, I think it might be the same thing, because after all, what does our culture tell us is the reason for an otherwise straight woman to diet? It's to be sexy--and that means it's to please the sexual partners.

Is there any way to separate out sexual desirability from femininity? Only by talking about it, working it through, bringing the hidden messages to the forefront (like we're doing here)... and I personally don't see most straight women doing this, because yanno... they don't talk about being feminine, they talk about being fat.

Originally Posted by Arwen

But. Is this culture? Is it socialization? Is it male-centric?

Or is it female-phobic on some level?

Is it even possible to have a male-centric culture without being female-phobic on some level?

Originally Posted by blush

What hit me about what you (and others) are saying is that the most common descriptor for femmes is entirely based on our appearance. We sum ourselves and each other up based on how we look. Is this human nature or is it the b-f culture?

When something pervades a culture as completely as looks-ism pervades Western society, it can seem like human nature. I think, though, that it's just so pervasive in the larger culture that it continually washes into our b-f culture. It's going to take a LOT of us doing the consciousness-raising analysis of the sources of societal oppression, over a long period of time, to eradicate it.

The good news is twofold: one, we ARE doing that analysis, and two, we've made a lot of progress in the past several years.

Originally Posted by blush

I'm getting at the collective image that a high femme is the best example of femme. We seem to feel that a high femme embodies "femme" best, even if WE don't necessarily wear (or want to wear) that label.

I think you nailed it, and I think we as a collective group see that image, "high femme" whether it's the girly girl or the glamour girl, as the pinnacle of "femmeness" precisely because the larger culture sees it as the pinnacle of femininity... and how can we articulate "Femme" without speaking about "femininity"?

Originally Posted by Gemme

I can see that, I suppose, but for myself...it's not so. In one room, I can see the beauty in everyone, except myself. My internal mirror is jacked up.

I'd be very surprised if this were not very common among those of us who have troubled to do some gender exploration. I think once we start asking ourselves questions like "what makes femininity?" or "what makes true beauty?" we begin to see very clearly that everyone else is beautiful.

I think we don't see it about ourselves because our brainwashing/societal conditioning goes so deep. The moment we can believe on some level that we might be pretty, the OTHER societal conditioning snaps into play--yanno, that one that says, "Shhhh! Don't say anything positive or the gods will strike you DOWN! Don't jinx yourself!"

When you have to fight your way through not just societally implanted images of beauty, but also societally implanted fears of positive thought AND societally implanted fears of being punished, it takes a while to see yourself truly.

I like your Mirror thread, btw. You did a wonderful job with it!

[julieisafemme]

Originally Posted by Bit

I missed this convo...


Hi Kim! Yanno, that's something I've thought for a long long time, that most straight women don't obsess over whether or not they're feminine.

I think you nailed it, and I think we as a collective group see that image, "high femme" whether it's the girly girl or the glamour girl, as the pinnacle of "femmeness" precisely because the larger culture sees it as the pinnacle of femininity... and how can we articulate "Femme" without speaking about "femininity"?

snip

Bit there is a lot of good stuff to talk about here. I am fresh out of the straight world and I have to agree that I have never heard a straight woman obsess about whether or not she is feminine enough. The standard mom look is not feminine at all. I have spent more time obsessing about being feminine since I came out than I ever did before! I did not imagine that would be that case.

Is the high femme really the pinnacle of femininity for the larger culture? I am not sure if I agree with that. I think femininity is not what the focus of the larger culture is. It seems more like a sexual image is the pinnacle. I don't associate that image with femme or high femme. I guess I don't see it is a highly sexualized image. Femme and high femme are more of a package than an outward sexy image. Am I not seeing things right here? I have a very different idea of what feminine is and how I want to express that since I have come out. Looking or behaving sexy is not part of that.

[Gemme]

Originally Posted by Bit

I'd be very surprised if this were not very common among those of us who have troubled to do some gender exploration. I think once we start asking ourselves questions like "what makes femininity?" or "what makes true beauty?" we begin to see very clearly that everyone else is beautiful.

I think we don't see it about ourselves because our brainwashing/societal conditioning goes so deep. The moment we can believe on some level that we might be pretty, the OTHER societal conditioning snaps into play--yanno, that one that says, "Shhhh! Don't say anything positive or the gods will strike you DOWN! Don't jinx yourself!"

When you have to fight your way through not just societally implanted images of beauty, but also societally implanted fears of positive thought AND societally implanted fears of being punished, it takes a while to see yourself truly.

I like your Mirror thread, btw. You did a wonderful job with it!

Good points.

Oh, and the Mirror thread was Arwen's idea but I consider it a thread for all of us.

[hippieflowergirl]

Originally Posted by Medusa

Speaking of internal mirrors.

I am really resonating with the posts here. SUCH good space.

I used to have a kind of reverse-Cinderella complex going on around my weight. I would scan the room when I was around other women to confirm that I , indeed, was the fattest one in the room. A lot of that self-hating bullshit was the need for my widdle baby feelings to stay firmly planted in their diaper because working through them was much scarier than sitting in a pile of shitty feelings.

At one of the first events I ever attended, waaaay back in 2003, I met up with a bunch of Butch/Femme/Queer folks in Kansas City. Some of those very same people are on this site
Up until that event, I had only shown myself from the "myspace" angle. You know the one: You hold the camera WAAAAYYY above your head and look up innocently so that all of your chins are hidden, your wrinkles fall to the back, and you look ever SOOOO tiny!!! WIDDLE BITTY THAANG!
Needless to say, I had much trepidation about attending and went on a CRAZY crash diet, eating ice cubes, riding an exercise bike for 4 hours a night, taking laxatives, and wrapping myself in a rubber suit while doing housework. Before the gathering in Kansas City, I lost about 30 pounds in the 6 weeks prior, all the while telling myself that I "wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going".
I went.
I was scared that people would judge me for being fat. I was scared that people wouldnt like me. I was afraid of being the fattest person there.
Over all, the party was amazing and painful for 100 different reasons.

Once home, a "friend" sent me an email that had been circulating between 2 other Femmes talking about how I was "much fatter than they expected" and that I "was probably fatter than X and Y combined."

It was painful but I think a small part of me already had a nice soft bed made for the validation of my self-hatred.

The moral of the story is that my Princess often felt like "everyone who isnt me".

I could have had a very nice after school special about "tricking" everyone into thinking I was skinny and arriving with my fat self and people falling in love with me anyway. It didnt happen because I made no room for anyone to love me. (and dont get me wrong, I wasnt responsible for the gross behavior or judgment coming from other folks). But I walked into that party *expecting* to not be good enough. Because it was what I knew. It was what was comfortable for me. It was what fit my history.

Im writing a new life every day now, but I never erase the past.

I lost my train of thought, but the rainbow vomit looks kinda nice on the floor here. *tip-toe*

damn. you're good...

[Diva]

Originally Posted by Medusa

Speaking of internal mirrors.

I am really resonating with the posts here. SUCH good space.

I used to have a kind of reverse-Cinderella complex going on around my weight. I would scan the room when I was around other women to confirm that I , indeed, was the fattest one in the room. A lot of that self-hating bullshit was the need for my widdle baby feelings to stay firmly planted in their diaper because working through them was much scarier than sitting in a pile of shitty feelings.

At one of the first events I ever attended, waaaay back in 2003, I met up with a bunch of Butch/Femme/Queer folks in Kansas City. Some of those very same people are on this site
Up until that event, I had only shown myself from the "myspace" angle. You know the one: You hold the camera WAAAAYYY above your head and look up innocently so that all of your chins are hidden, your wrinkles fall to the back, and you look ever SOOOO tiny!!! WIDDLE BITTY THAANG!
Needless to say, I had much trepidation about attending and went on a CRAZY crash diet, eating ice cubes, riding an exercise bike for 4 hours a night, taking laxatives, and wrapping myself in a rubber suit while doing housework. Before the gathering in Kansas City, I lost about 30 pounds in the 6 weeks prior, all the while telling myself that I "wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going wasnt going".
I went.
I was scared that people would judge me for being fat. I was scared that people wouldnt like me. I was afraid of being the fattest person there.
Over all, the party was amazing and painful for 100 different reasons.

Once home, a "friend" sent me an email that had been circulating between 2 other Femmes talking about how I was "much fatter than they expected" and that I "was probably fatter than X and Y combined."

It was painful but I think a small part of me already had a nice soft bed made for the validation of my self-hatred.

The moral of the story is that my Princess often felt like "everyone who isnt me".

I could have had a very nice after school special about "tricking" everyone into thinking I was skinny and arriving with my fat self and people falling in love with me anyway. It didnt happen because I made no room for anyone to love me. (and dont get me wrong, I wasnt responsible for the gross behavior or judgment coming from other folks). But I walked into that party *expecting* to not be good enough. Because it was what I knew. It was what was comfortable for me. It was what fit my history.

Im writing a new life every day now, but I never erase the past.

I lost my train of thought, but the rainbow vomit looks kinda nice on the floor here. *tip-toe*

Medusa,
I think You say so much of what some of us are feeling here I just had to repeat is, as blush did.

Similar to Your story, I was nervous about going to a big ol' "family party" in 2007 in Dallas. I was looking forward to meeting everyone, but once they saw me, what would they think THEN? Right?

One of the most empowering things for me ~ and there were 3 things that weekend that DID give me a great deal of personal power ~ was hearing Your letter to Your Mama, Medusa, during the spoken word segment of the cabaret deal. I remember all the pieces of paper....I remember being mesmerized by Your passion, Your fierceness. And I remember thinking, "Gimme some~a THAT!" because I was intoxicated by that fierce passion!!! Here was this big, beautiful bombshell beauty who was "screaming" about her heart's desires.

And it was during Your letter in spoken word that I fell in love with Medusa.

What did You DO with those bits of paper? I hope to that Wire Sculpture 'Dusa that You have it in a safe place. It should be in every Femme Manual.........jus' sayin'......

[Medusa]

Originally Posted by Diva

Medusa,
I think You say so much of what some of us are feeling here I just had to repeat is, as blush did.

Similar to Your story, I was nervous about going to a big ol' "family party" in 2007 in Dallas. I was looking forward to meeting everyone, but once they saw me, what would they think THEN? Right?

One of the most empowering things for me ~ and there were 3 things that weekend that DID give me a great deal of personal power ~ was hearing Your letter to Your Mama, Medusa, during the spoken word segment of the cabaret deal. I remember all the pieces of paper....I remember being mesmerized by Your passion, Your fierceness. And I remember thinking, "Gimme some~a THAT!" because I was intoxicated by that fierce passion!!! Here was this big, beautiful bombshell beauty who was "screaming" about her heart's desires.

And it was during Your letter in spoken word that I fell in love with Medusa.

What did You DO with those bits of paper? I hope to that Wire Sculpture 'Dusa that You have it in a safe place. It should be in every Femme Manual.........jus' sayin'......

Thank You, Janeylove.

I have no idea where that piece of writing is. Im sure it inhabits a piece of a dark corner somewhere in one of the boxes in the office (hopefully).

It was a paper liner off of one of those room service trays, a scrap writing tablet from a last-minute, mad-dash attempt for anything, something to say. I almost called Eve that night and told her to cancel me because I had been listening for the muse up until weeks before that performance and she just wasnt giving it up.
I think that piece of writing was, for me, one of the most healing things I have ever done. Not just writing it, but saying it out loud in front of people. Showing my hurt spots, showing my rage, showing that I was pissed right the hell off.
Many people do not know this but there were some folks in the room that night that I had become estranged from. My ex was also there.
I caught myself as I was sitting in the bathroom messing with my hair getting all nervous and jerky. There were a million thoughts running through my head. A million pieces of anger and sadness and joy and resentment and disappointment and love and hate.
And there I was, this thing in a gold lame' dress, covered from head to toe in glitter, wearing gold gogo boots and I felt shiny and starry and new and bright and enormous (not size-wise, but spirit-wise), because I had maintained myself at multiple points during the weekend when there were some shitty situations in my face.
I looked at myself in the mirror and knew that I was the woman that *I* thought I was and not the woman that *they* thought I was.

And by god, was I fucking fabulous.

So I sat down and scribbled out my rage, leaning in an uncomfortable chair and pumping my body into that writing like I was playing a piano. Hard and fast and racing the clock.

And when I performed, I spoke to not just my Momma, but to the people in that room that were part of that hole. The people who let me down. The people who hurt me. The people who betrayed my love for them.

I let go of all of it in front of that crowd in Dallas and nobody but me knew it.

I guess you could say that I forced everyone into my masturbatory therapy - but really, isnt that what all poetry is on some level.

When I was done speaking, a rush of people surrounded me and hugged me, thanked me, applauded me, kissed me. There were a lot of tears. I felt loved.
I felt a tremendous shouldering of that rage from my sisters. I felt like every woman in that room knew exactly what I was talking about and that every one of them would help me rip to shreds the pain and anger.

I keep that moment tied up with red string in the memory part of my mind. I have rarely felt that kind of rush of empowerment where the shitty stuff that was ripped out by pain was replaced with shining diamonds. But it was.

And they are still there. About a million carats worth.

<3

[apretty]

Medusa-

i'm think that reclaiming your voice (having it been stolen/ripped/shushed/beat from you) can only be done before an audience.

i say this because i get so caught up in the masturbatory-self-help-therapy-non-consensual judger in my head, simultaneously wanting to *protect* people from all that is me (probably about protecting my*self* but that's not what i tell myself in the moment), while needing to be *witnessed* for once. witnessed where you (i) don't need saving that won't be forthcoming and am *in complete control* of my vulnerability/sexuality/body/voice/everything.

ha, this probably could be an entire thread, women/femme and their artistic expression ...and i just had this ah-ha moment, thank you.

[evolveme]

Originally Posted by labete

One thing I want is to be good at standing up for myself, standing firm but being open to the possibility that I was wrong or misinformed or that another perspective would be more beneficial to me. I saw my beloved sister e doing this in a way that I found to be simultaneously strong and gentle, firm but open, and adopted her as a role model for that. I'm still very much working on this and other personal growth goals, but it's a lot easier for me personally to grow toward a positive than away from a negative.

It touched me so much to come across this. When I think about it now, I've watched you become someone who protects herself more fiercely when necessary and more firmly all the time. You are not someone for whom the lesson of boundary maintenance is on eternal repeat (unless it is and you've managed to hide this from me terribly well). I've watched you, even recently, setting boundaries with those you love even when it pains you. I marvel at your strength as much as your stamina.

When I think of you, it is your openness, the generosity of your love, and the way that you are dedicated to improving yourself - and that you DO - that inspires me. All of these things, naturally, have benefited me in some way, and so you see here that I am selfish compared to you. It's what I see about you that makes me more in love with you all the time, as my friend and as my sister. It's the part of you I wish would rub off a little. I want to be the kind of friend that you deserve.

Originally Posted by Medusa

I caught myself as I was sitting in the bathroom messing with my hair getting all nervous and jerky. There were a million thoughts running through my head. A million pieces of anger and sadness and joy and resentment and disappointment and love and hate.
And there I was, this thing in a gold lame' dress, covered from head to toe in glitter, wearing gold gogo boots and I felt shiny and starry and new and bright and enormous (not size-wise, but spirit-wise), because I had maintained myself at multiple points during the weekend when there were some shitty situations in my face.
I looked at myself in the mirror and knew that I was the woman that *I* thought I was and not the woman that *they* thought I was.

And by god, was I fucking fabulous.

So I sat down and scribbled out my rage, leaning in an uncomfortable chair and pumping my body into that writing like I was playing a piano. Hard and fast and racing the clock.

And when I performed, I spoke to not just my Momma, but to the people in that room that were part of that hole. The people who let me down. The people who hurt me. The people who betrayed my love for them.

I let go of all of it in front of that crowd in Dallas and nobody but me knew it.

I guess you could say that I forced everyone into my masturbatory therapy - but really, isnt that what all poetry is on some level.

---
And they are still there. About a million carats worth.

<3

Yes. It is a kind of masturbatory therapy, and as such, I submit that more of us should be doing more of it more of the time.

Certainly, by the sound of it, you should. Just look at the afterglow from that one, sugar.

[labete]

Originally Posted by evolveme

It touched me so much to come across this. When I think about it now, I've watched you become someone who protects herself more fiercely when necessary and more firmly all the time. You are not someone for whom the lesson of boundary maintenance is on eternal repeat (unless it is and you've managed to hide this from me terribly well). I've watched you, even recently, setting boundaries with those you love even when it pains you. I marvel at your strength as much as your stamina.

When I think of you, it is your openness, the generosity of your love, and the way that you are dedicated to improving yourself - and that you DO - that inspires me. All of these things, naturally, have benefited me in some way, and so you see here that I am selfish compared to you. It's what I see about you that makes me more in love with you all the time, as my friend and as my sister. It's the part of you I wish would rub off a little. I want to be the kind of friend that you deserve.

Darlin', you're one of the best friends I've ever had. You should move back where we can go out together again, but I try not to hold your geographic deficiency against you too much. You inspire me and I inspire you, sounds life a pretty good deal to me.

And Jiminy Hopping Christmas yes on the boundary issues. I have worked hard on those and gotten so much better. And my quality of life is much improved as a result. My honey's been inspiring me there, which is a great quality for her to have, in my book. Reinforcement is good for me.

Originally Posted by evolveme

Yes. It is a kind of masturbatory therapy, and as such, I submit that more of us should be doing more of it more of the time.

Certainly, by the sound of it, you should. Just look at the afterglow from that one, sugar.

I agree. The public masturbatory therapy is powerful and empowering and often therapeutic or cathartic for the audience as well. I love a good catharsis.

[hippieflowergirl]

Originally Posted by Gemme

I can see that, I suppose, but for myself...it's not so. In one room, I can see the beauty in everyone, except myself. My internal mirror is jacked up.

i'm in high dudgeon at the mo' so excuse me. the fact that any of you amazing women has been shoved into the "less than" dressing room to find some culturally artificial (and not even decently tailored in order to actually be personal) shame to wear is pissing me off!

Gemmie-poo...like Medusa, Arwen, Diva and Bit...to me you're already so damn beautiful in words...i'm afraid of having to wear sunglasses in order to merely hang out with you. so let's drag that freakin' mirror down here to eye level. i'll get the step stool, you find the dust rag and we'll just haul it down and see what's so darn scary.

Originally Posted by Gemme

Disney does promote the 'one girl is beautiful and perfect and everyone else is an ugly stepsister or non-essential to the story' theory. So does every bit of advertising I see on TV, movies, magazines, etc.

and for that reason, if no other, we should all be writing fairy tales that include the plain/ugly/nerdy/genderqueer/fat/or whatever sister kicking ass, taking names, falling in love only if she damn well feels like it, and living happily ever after.


just sayin'