“If only the world could have as much gender-fuckery as Shakespeare.”
Hello Femme, where’ve you been?
I can’t accurately describe my feminity, my femme-ness or why if I call myself a ‘fem’ in France they look at me like they already knew that. (Bad joke)
So, here is my attempt to explain what this femme-ness in me is…
Femme is the way, that no matter the gender disposition of the day, I will still follow through with my beauty routine.
Femme is the fact that my dressing table is piled high with make-up and jewellery, majority of which is no longer used.
Femme is the clothing and shoes that never seem to completely fit in my closet.
Femme is the scented oils in the bathroom and the way all the towels are hung neatly.
Femme is the cream on my legs and the waxing that hurts more than it’s rightfully worth.
Femme is the ability to switch and change the public’s perception but still be me underneath.
Femme is my choice.
But, it’s also…
Femme is the time I was sexually assaulted for being queer because they thought I needed to be ‘cured’.
Femme are the days when I get so confused about who I feel I am inside that I tend to take all the pain out on myself.
Femme is when people stare at me and asked if I’m sure that I’m queer, because I sure as hell don’t look it to them.
Femme is when I get classed as ‘bisexual’ because a femme can’t legitimately be queer.
Femme is where I overcome oppression from the inside-out.
So, that’s my femme.
But I think femme also entails a lot of different things as well, it’s like when an attractive women (I use the term loosely in some aspects) walks past and makes you blush, it’s when men and butches alike open the door for you, it’s when you can paint your nails, wear your make-up and strut your stuff in those heels that are too high for comfort. Femme is an expression of the inner goddess that majority of the world had forgotten.
You want femme? You got femme.
- Cal.
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