Archive for Femme

The Pink Butch Test

We all have tests that people have to pass in order to be deemed dateable. We have screening tools. We all have things we look for, relationship benchmarks, dealbreakers even.

I have a few but one of the items high on my initial compatibility checklist is the Pink Test. Closely related to the Feather Boa Test.

I will only date butches who are okay with pink.

The first butch I dated when I was back in the game was a major player in converting me to pink. She set the bar with her joy at my pink pajamas (and my midnight treks to the video store in said pjs). Then there was the boi with pink shoes. There was a boi who acquired a pink harness in my honor (hawt!).  A  boy with a soft pink blanket and a favorite pink tie. There was a butch who explained she wasn’t anti-pink, it just wasn’t in her color chart (and showed me the color chart as proof). A one date butch who wore pink to meet me at the train station which automatically endeared her to me despite our short lived flirtation. A butch in a light pink dress shirt picking me up for a second date. Such fun!

You see, I love genderqueers, I heart transgression and contradiction. And I have found that butches who won’t embrace pink tend to be somewhat binary in their “pink is for girls” thinking.

I want a butch who is confident and sexy enough to sport that pink dress shirt and rock it, to not give a fuck, not for a second think that they are less of a butch, not for a second consider it in any way feminizing– if anything that pink shirt is now being queered, it is being butchified, it is now transgressing the boundaries of pinkness. A butch who isn’t down with pink is generally not someone who will be compatible with me. If they are not okay with pink, odds are they won’t be okay with feather boas, or with glitter and sparkles. And I’m not okay with that.

So far my test has worked for me.

My New Year’s Eve date wore a pink dress shirt (and a beautiful tie) and has expressed that he favors white feather boas over black.   Looks like he  is going for extra credit!

Beautiful

When do I feel beautiful?

I am beautiful when I am dressed to the nines, ready for a night on the town. When my makeup is glamorous, my outfit is scandalous, my heels precarious, and my attitude glorious. When I’m ready to dance and flirt and party.

I am beautiful when I am with my friends, laughing, scheming, catching up, coming up with ways to change the world and live in the ways that matter to us.

I am beautiful when I am covered in spit up from a beautiful baby in my life.

I am beautiful when I am sitting cross legged on the floor telling a story–or better yet, listening with genuine attention to a story being told to me by a little one.

I am beautiful when I am working with youth, laughing, teaching, learning, listening and enjoying their energy.

I am beautiful when I am moved to tears: by beauty, by suffering, by passion.

I am beautiful when I give of myself, when I am able to bless others.

I am beautiful when I stand firm for what I believe in. Regardless of who is standing with me.

I am beautiful when my voice is raised in song, when I share music and make music.

I am beautiful when I stand naked before my lover.

I am beautiful when I am painting, absorbed in the whirlwind of color coming to shape before me. And I am beautiful when one of the children in my life join me in creating.

I am beautiful when I am dreaming. Asleep or awake, unseen or admired.

I am beautiful when I am in nature, when I swim in the ocean, when I hike through the woods, when I play in the snow, when I walk on the shore, when I try to catch a wave and am pummeled by the waves… beautiful.

I am beautiful when I am learning, thinking, pondering, questioning, debating. My mind is a beautiful thing.

I am beautiful when I am lonely and tired and sad.

I am beautiful when I am in the kitchen, creating meals for people I love.

Beautiful first thing in the morning when I embrace a new day with messy hair, beautiful when I am sick, beautiful in my rattiest jammies, or in my most gorgeous gown. Beautiful when I am smelling flowers, beautiful when I am scrubbing floors, when I am folding clothes, beautiful when I least realize it and beautiful when I am fully aware.

I am blessed to know how beautiful I am and blessed in my freedom to enjoy the beauty in everything around me. I am blessed to know my own beauty regardless of who is around to see it, and I am blessed to have those in my life who do see my beauty and celebrate it.

I walk in beauty daily and I am blessed for it.

Long Beach Rally November 15th: One Latina’s Voice

The Long Beach Wed-In and Rally was a great success. I was not able to stay till the end due to another commitment with the South Coast Chorale to sing at the Well’s Hospice Memorial Service, but what I saw was empowering, well attended, and entirely encouraging.

My message was well received and I’ve been asked to share my message so, here it is, minus the energy of the crowd, the embellishing, the cheering, the righteous response, but nonetheless my truth which I was blessed to share today:

“Like all of you I was wounded by the passing of Proposition 8. I am hurt by it.

As a Queer Femme I am hurt by the fact that voters in the State of California have chosen to take away my civil rights–OUR civil rights. I’m hurt by the suggestion that my rights are debatable, expendable and not in fact INALIENABLE.

As a Latina I am hurt by some of what I’ve heard in the LGBTQ community. It hurts me to hear that as a person of color my membership in the Queer community is suspect. I’ve heard a lot of anger toward people of color, specifically African Americans and Latinos. I’ve heard blame, saying that we were responsible for the passing of Prop 8. Not only is that statistically inaccurate–if anything we helped close the gap, from 22% in 2000 to less than 4% this time. Not only is it inaccurate but it is divisive. It denies the diversity of the LGBTQ community. It denies our allies. And it puts us in the position of US versus THEM when many of us are both us AND them.

As a Latina, si cuento. I am an integral part of the community. We all are. All of my communities. I am not the other. We are one.

It hurts me to hear intolerance directed from my people to my people.

I honor the pain we are all feeling but I see it as an invitation to change.
I see it as a wake up call to our community that is bigger than Prop 8. That speaks to justice and community and inclusion.

We have an opportunity to continue to organize and advocate for change.
An opportunity to look at our comunidad and make sure that No Queer is Left Behind.
To ensure that the legal rights we have already gained are being upheld:
the laws that protect us from discrimination in the workplace
laws that protect youth in schools from discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity
We need to KNOW our rights and make sure we are protecting ALL of our freedoms.

And we can learn from our history. Stonewall has been brought by many people, I see signs and images commemorating our past. Let’s not forget who started the movement: it was butch women, queens, transgendered people, people of color and white people. United. Let’s stand and recognize.

We have an opportunity to build unity and inclusion. To see not only how can we get support from our potential allies but how can we BE allies to other disenfranchised communities.

A few things have been proven through our protests, vigils and marches in the state of California and now, nationwide:

We are a diverse and beautiful community. An amazing familia.
Our community includes all ages, races and ethnicities, socioeconomic class, religions, abilities.

We are a powerful community. And amazing familia.
We are a resilient community.
We will not be silenced. We will not be overlooked. We will not settle for less than igualdad. Equality.

We can share the energy and see that every issue is a lesbian issue, is a bisexual issue, is a gay issue, is a transgendered issue, is a queer issue
Immigration reform and rights is our issue
Homelessness is a queer issue
Drug addiction is a queer issue
Affordable housing is our issue
Education is our isse
Racism is our issue
We are everywhere

We are being called to action. Prop 8 is one piece of the picture and we will stand firm, we SHALL overcome.
And we can use this to build stronger communities, to ensure that all members of our familia are included and honored.
And we can take this chance to build bridges with allies to eradicate bigotry, eradicate oppression, eradicate senseless hatred and division in ALL of our communities.
We can be agents of change
for equality
for peaceful vibrant communities
and for diversity.

In the words of Dr. Martin Luther King “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice EVERYWHERE.”

We will not stand for injustice.”

Talk to Santa Claus…

because!

my story was accepted for publication in Best Lesbian Erotica 2009 from Cleis Press, edited by Tristan Taormino.

It will be hitting the shelves around Thanksgiving, just in time for holiday naughtiness!

Flowers

I am the kind of girl who gets flowers. 

First date flowers.  Just because flowers.  Special ocassion flowers.  Thank you flowers.  Thinking of you flowers.  Second date flowers even! LOL

There’s something about displaying flowers that just says “loved,” “wanted,” or even “treasured.” 

Today I went to buy flowers for a few special people and was walking back to my office from the florist with my arms full of flowers.  I got admiring glances and people started conversations about the beautiful flowers I’d received.  When it happens in fact, I was giving them, and it also happens in fact that I am looking for arrangements for myself. 

I am celebrating a year of being single.  Commemorating, celebrating, rejoicing, enjoying.  And so I will have flowers all month.  From me.  Because I love, want, cherish, adore and treasure myself and I’d like the daily reminders of how amazing I am and how much I am enjoying me.  

I’m always surprised at how many people find the idea of buying oneself flowers to be novel, or even transgressive.  There is some kind of invisible taboo against showing self love in such a visible display.  I also get asked if I feel pathetic for doing that and I can answer in all honesty that I do not.  I feel proud and I feel blessed and I feel loved and I feel happy but not for a minute pathetic. 

I am the kind of girl who gets flowers from friends, from family, from lovers–potential, future, past–, from admirers , and from myself.  That’s exactly the kind of girl I want to be.

And I am also the kind of girl who gives flowers.  Just because I can. 

Converted to Pink

In my purse right now are the following:

A pink Razor phone

A new pink agenda

A pink pencil

My pink journal

And… let us not forget pink lipgloss.

I used to hate pink with a passion.  I attribute my conversion to pink to a number of bois/boys in my life, most of whom love/wear pink themselves.  I don’t know if it’s an embracing of my babygrrl side, if it’s part irony and part flair, or if it’s simply the inevitable influence of social conditioning but I’m wearing a pink sweater while I type this and my skin isn’t crawling out of it.  I also have a pink backpack (a gift from a boi) which I use on a regular basis, yes, in public.  And really it’s quite remarkable.  I realized the conversion had been complete when shopping with someone for planners for the next year.  I had seen a pretty pink one but then told myself, naw, I can’t get a pink planner!  Sure enough I slept on it and talked to her the next day to share the news: I must have the pink planner.  Yay! 

I hate assumptions about femininity.  Perhaps that might be part of what draws me to bloodred rather than pink a lot of the time.  Pink implies soft and fragile.  Yes, sometimes I am both.  Maybe my conversion has something to do with owning that as well as the hardass side of me.  Maybe I’m finally at a point in my life where it’s safe to be soft.  It’s safe enough to have pink. 

Whatever it is, it sure is pretty.