Quote:
Originally Posted by betenoire
You are to only speak about yourself and what you are. You are not permitted to frame your Femmeness in what you are not.
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i love your mind, i want to lick it.
so, i've stayed away from this thread because it's nearly impossible for me to put into exact words what my femme is but i feel i must try and know it won't be perfect. she is hard to pin down as she side-steps being tied to just one thing.
fem/me
i'm competitive, sensitive and simultaneously obnoxious and completely surprised when i've hurt someone's feelings and taken aback when criticized because i often think i am above reproach.
i'm protective, loving, giving, maternal and territorial.
i'm evasive and persistent, i push for sheer practice.
i'm my dad's daughter, self-made with a rather large safety net and my mother's daughter, torn up and ripped apart before she was even old enough to drive.
i'm a lovely aunt, parading and pretending that the blonde-haired and blue-eyed beauty is my own, generous with gifts and rule-bending to a fault.
now i am 36 and i want my own daughter for many reasons including experiencing a mother-daughter relationship that i've never known. i frequently push away these feelings, hoping that they'll go away but i've made a promise to explore them for the next few weeks. i'm my harshest critic--motherhood scares me.
i've been femme since birth, most likely--without the words for why it was
so fucking important that i wear a little powder on my nose in 6th grade, and secretly shaving my legs and checking the mirror--hoping no one would see because my pending womanhood and vanity threatened my mother in ways she couldn't explain.
i went through my one and only (painful) *tomboy* period in 4th grade--i have a picture of myself someplace in the school spelling bee i have short hair and i'm wearing levis and a black member's only jacket zipped up--for years i hated that picture because it reminds me of being pulled in so many different directions, of not having anyone to talk to about body stuff or anything else... but i now recognize the ever-present jacket was my armor against the world--the same thing that red rubywoo mac lipstick does for the femme i am, today.
and as much as i want to be his bottom bitch in our private lives, my politics are my ever-present guide--i will always align myself with what i believe to be truth and justice and i'm firmly positioned under a large umbrella of militant feminism. (especially if i'm wearing short-shorts and swinging a parasol.)
i see art in things like a broken stiletto heel, an anal plug, muscle cars, diners, yellow legal pads, fat women, chicks with knives, fierce femmes, a broken heart, a good argument, foucault.
i'm a lady, i'm a tramp, i come on strong--just until it's time to pay up or shut up. yeah, i talk big --and always have an exit strategy.
i'm competent, hardcore, slutty and refined, at my discretion (i have perfect manners, my austrian grandmother and would have accepted nothing less).
i hold my Femme close to my heart, and i make this shit look easy.
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