Open Letter: Dear Femme

[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