on being a femme

after a winter of hibernation....i am emerging.
this past week has been packed full of social sweets, making new friends, intimate house parties and purposeful gatherings. it is so lovely to be in the company of people i adore, people i totally want to spend more time with and people that are just radiant!

tonight i went with some of my lovelies to see one of my fav authors, Anna Camilleri
Anna was doing a performance piece called 'Sound Siren Red' which is based on her new book
'I am a Red Dress'. It was beautiful, jarring, chilling, magical and pure beauty and depth. it was a lovely evening altogether and I was in bliss looking around at the audience....strong strong femmes, dykes, students, professors, girls, boys, bois, butches and everything in between. Especially the femmes. Anna spoke something in the question period that I have resonated with for years but speak of rarely. Being a femme is identity separate from sexual orientation. I began to explore my femme identity years ago when I began to learn more about trans issues and began to look deeper into my own gender identity. Being a femme can be a highly visible yet totally invisible place to be. It doesn't clearly identify me with the queer community, but also, being a femme like me, doesn't clearly identify me in the straight world either. I like it there.

Being a femme like me means i can wear gingham shirts and rolled up pants, tutus and army boots, knee high shit kickers and carry a zebra print bag, it means i can wear no make up and many hats. it means nothing in terms of categories and means more than i can explain to you.

I was surrounded by so much loveliness tonight. I adore the people I have in my life and those that are emerging into it. In this uber socialness I have been finding myself replenished in these settings, something that is not particularly normal. I tend to replenish myself alone. It seems these days seek a bit of both. So tommorrow night I have a date. With the best feline-femme imaginable...the great ladybug and my tranny-kat extrordonaire elliot. We will be sitting in the orange chair, by the orange curtains, reading the new jeanette winterson, crooning to the new richard shindell and purring. Ah, the good life.