This post comes to you by Christine Bylund of Words and Flesh, also on twitter as @kittinvittamin, who responded to our August Writing Prompt. We love to feature guest posts and if you have a post you would like to see here don't hesitate to contact us (femmesguide AT gmail.com).

I thought this would be tricky, that I would only come up with femmes of fiction when trying to find a femme role model. There was also a pressure of uniqueness that hindered me from expressing myself at first There have been a couple of drafts of this until I realized that sometimes what we try to find far away we can only find if we look closely.

My femme role model could have been Minnie Mouse or some Victorian outspoken woman of choice. But it is the first person that ever taught me what fighting was, and art, and hair dye. Her name is G and she is a visual artist. Last year she turned seventy and I held a speech at her party. My dress looked good, my pearls looked good, my red curls were vibrant, and she looked good too. Her jewelry shone, her bright red fringe glowed, and her eyeliner was perfectly applied in ways I could never have been able to…

She had told my mother this story when I was still a little girl a girl madly in love with all things light pink and purple, of Piglet in Winnie the Pooh and staging complex relationship intrigues with my Barbies. My mother told the story to me later, it was as if G had known, that I would face what she had already. All life lived crippled is hard, all life lived cripfemme even more so, so my mother told me, when I had transferred the pink in my wardrobe to red and black…

G had gone for her first driving lesson. Of course in her electric wheelchair and of course with a PA with her, and the driving instructor had said…
“Who did your make up?”
“I did it myself” she said,” I am an artist!”
Slowly he had closed his mouth and mumbled
“Then I am sure this will be no problem for you…”

You see, for me the way her spasmodic hands draw a perfect pitch black line on the top of her eyelids is resistance. The way she insists on dying her hair and wearing heels with her wheels is bravery. And she taught me to always look to other shores, to never be satisfied and to practice, practice, practice…
…not so much at walking straight or shedding my crutches and walkers, but at drawing straight pitch black lines under my eyes and making little kicks in the corners of them, so that I would look like a cat. She taught me that nothing is impossible - not even the rows and rows of buttons on my favorite high neck blouses - and if they are, ask others to do them up. A crip appearance is not dull by default and cripfemme femme-ininity is as much of a mind-fuck as you ever want it to be.

I think of her in whatever I do, she taught me the art of observing, noting and using what happened around me to create other worlds than this one. She inspired me to think consciously of my body and my appearance, and how it affects me and others.

She taught me that intellectual fierceness and appreciations for all things pretty can and shall be combined. She taught me to make way for others, as she made way for me.
I don’t know if she would see herself as cripfemme, but she was my first ever notion of what that could be at all. That crip didn’t have to be about sweatpants and monotonic exercise in smelly gyms, but it could be about exhibitions and color-schemes, and the force of fantasies.

I hope I will make way for little shivering Piglet-like crip girls, like she made way for me. I hope one day mothers and fathers will tell their kids stories of resistance about me.
It is not only for myself that I fight to crush assumptions of all things femme and crip and girlie. It is because she made a path for me, plowed it up with her electric wheelchair and I must scrape it ripe again with my own stiff steps so that little cripfemmelets can trot happily after me.

Thank you G, for showing me that disability never hindered you, for always wearing that over the top green eye shadow and that madly red hair. When I grow older I hope I will be like you and the lime light will glisten in the chrome of my walker and my eyeliner lines will be even and straight.

Thank you for teaching me how to fight. All art is fighting, all fighting is life.

Technorati Tags: body, disability, femme, femmes, femmes we look up to, jewelry, pretty, role models, thank you

As published on my new blog, The Queer Fat Femme Guide to Life.

I was walking my Shih Tzu Macy the other day through my neighborhood in Jersey City when we came across a stranger. He was another little white Shih Tzu, with no collar or leash. Macy, ever our ambassador to all friendly furry creatures, asked him what he was up to. She was unable to communicate with me what his exact business was in the street on a dark snowy NYC night, but I was able to pick him up, determine he was warm and smelled entirely too good to be a stray. There's no way I could just leave him on the street, in case he got hit by a car or fell prey to any other Shih Tzu dangers lurking about.

We took him home, where I made a little sign advertising that I'd found a white dog with my phone number. I figured if it was me, as soon as I realized Macy was gone I would flip out and scour the neighborhood--a few signs near where he was found would probably bring them out.

It took about an hour, my plan worked and little Gizmo was reunited with his family. Macy was a little annoyed that he spent the whole time at my apartment hanging out with me on the sofa and not playing with her, but we felt good about having done a good deed.

I told my gay boy BFF Brian about this, saying It's not like he's going to be able to fend for himself on the streets. What survival skills does a Shih Tzu have?

"Well, I think looking cute and being able to convince strangers to take you home and feed you until your people come get you is a survival skill."

And he is absolutely right. Being able to recognize when you need help and being open and available to receiving help is absolutely a survival skill.

This was brought into stark Femme relief for me during part 2 of my 3 part 30th birthday party celebrations, right after the Shih Tzu incident. I threw a party called "Ascots and Bouffants" at my friend Muse's apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Muse was kind enough to host the party and was stressed about learning how to bouffant her hair. I offered to do her hair for her, having learned from my hair dresser in November (much to my intense joy).

This was the result after I did my own bouffant process using the technique from my stylist.

However, I have thick, long hair and Muse has fine, shoulder-length hair. It never occurred to me that my technique wouldn't work on Muse. I started working the backcomb action on her hair and this is what she looked part way through the process.

The results were less than ideal and disappointing for both of us, as we both wanted her to have fabulous high hair for my party.

Just as we made the revelation, my fabulous and gorgeous friend Bryn showed up (who Muse doesn't know very well). She's a hair dresser by trade and I instantly knew what we needed to do. Bryn!! I hollered. Can you fix this?

It took about 20 minutes, during which time I began to circulate and welcome guests. And the end result was a fabulous looking and very relieved Muse. By thinking fast and on my feet, I was able to make big hair happen for her, even though I wasn't able to do it myself.

Asking for help is a crucial skill for Femmes. There are so many things we can learn from each other. Almost everything I know about fatshion, beauty, make-up, self-esteem, and all the things in life I enjoy I've learned from my Femme sisters.

It is important to remember that vulnerability is a sign of strength, not weakness. Being open to showing people who you really are and articulating your needs is a great way to interact with people and make real, genuine connections. Had I been too proud to admit defeat when I realized 10 minutes into Muse's bouffant that I was not going to achieve the result we were after, she would have been stuck with hair she hated and I would have been stuck with a nagging feeling of letting her down that would have dampened the spirit of my party. Being at a point in my life and my confidence where I can ask my friends for help when I need it without being stuck in a feedback loop of shame or worrying about not seeming self-assured actually makes me more confident.

Even if I don't have a skill, I can get access to it pretty easily through my networks. And just like that Shih Tzu we found, I know I'll never really be out on the street long enough for my fur to get cold.

Big Femme Love in 200 and Fine!!

P.S. I also posted another series of Correspondence if y'all are interested.

Technorati Tags: Bevin Branlandingham, CommUNITY, fat, fatshion, femme, gender presentation, hair, high femme, nyc, real life, thank you

Cross-posted from Essin-Em.com

Hussyred posted something last week (2 weeks ago?) about how we came into our Femme identities, and who/what has contributed to them. I've written slightly about this before, but here is my time to say my thank yous. Lady Brett Ashley did hers in the form of an acceptance speech. Mine will be similar, but with more explanation, and less pizazz. I'm not known for my pizazz.

Thank you to those who helped me discover and nurture my Femme identity:

*The person at Dinah Shore 2007. We were in my room, regaining energy after round 2 or 3 or 10 of sex, and they looked over at my make up and hot iron strewn across the vanity. "You are such a Femme."

"What? No, I'm not!" My concept of Femme was the same as hyper feminine, lipstick. I rejected the social construction of required femininity. "I don't usually wear heels, I don't even OWN foundation, I'm allergic to pink. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Femme is not all that. Femme is an attitude. You have a Femme attitude."

"I most certainly do not." Hands on my hips, I looked like a large feline, eyes flashing slightly dangerously.

"And there is that attitude right there. Femme isn't a bad thing. I *like* Femmes. They're fucking hot."

And then we fucked again. For another few hours. And the next day. On the plane ride home, I contemplated the concept of Femme. Someone more on the feminine end of the spectrum, but "doing" femininity in her own way. An attitude, not an outfit. And so my journey as a Femme began. Thank you for helping me open the door to my Femme-ness.

*Sinclair Sexsmith. Sinclair is brilliant. And hot. And it's not secret that Sinclair is at the top of my "Butches I'd like to fuck" list (yes, I have a list). And my "Bloggers I'd like to fuck" list. Hell - people I'd like to fuck in general. Anyways, reading Sugarbutch.net really really really helped me to process the identity and concept of Femme. There was so much to Femme, as much as any other identity. Sinclair made me look at my own identity, and helped me to "create" MY version of Femme. I may not wear stilettos (hello 3 knee surgeries), I may loathe pink, and I've certainly never had a manicure in my life. However, when I get all put together, eye some hot Butch at the club, and use a snarky line, I always think of the amazing amount of influence and guidance Sinclair has provided. Thank you to Sinclair for helping me discover so much of all of my identities.

*J. My ex, J. J really brought out the Femme in me sometimes. He'd show up in a button down and a tie, and I wanted to look so hot that he'd not be able to stand it. I wanted to be so hot that he'd fuck me before dinner, after dinner, and at times, during dinner. I would do my hair instead of leaving it curly and down. I'd put on make up, and pick out a sexy outfit. And then he'd call, saying he was outside, and I'd stand framed in the doorway, watching him look me over, and damn it, I'd feel so bloody hot. One time, I had on a 50's style strapless dress, and black thigh highs. We'd just gotten back into my apartment, and he went down on me, under my dress, while I was trying to stand up and keep my balance, rolling my stockings down slightly. The fact that I could look so attractive, and be so sassy that someone would want to have me right then and there? That's part of my Femme attitude (Femmitude?). I'd let him open my car door (something I'd NEVER let anyone do before), I'd let him wait for me to sit...I began to re-examine my idea of chivalry in a new context. So a big thank you to J on that.

*K. We really didn't talk that much about my idea of being a Femme...we had other things to cover. One day, we were moving through a big crowd of people, and he just grabbed my hand and led me through. It was incredibly hot...yet something I couldn't imagine having found attractive a year or two ago. Not a Femme thing per se...although it influenced me somehow. But I remember one day, I was at his place, and he told me he'd walk me out. I looked at him oddly; it didn't seem like the time of thing he'd do, and I commented on it. He told me that I just seemed to bring it out in him. I hugged him goodbye, and as I drove home, I thought about it. In the year that I'd been playing with the idea of being a Femme, I'd gone from hating people holding doors, opening doors, lending me their jackets, leading me through crowds to feeling empowered and getting turned on by it. When I met people I was attracted to, my femmitude totally came through...I would wait for a door to be opened, letting them go first. When I shook hands, I would catch their gaze, and then drop my eyes first, essentially asking them to make a move. I LIKED that I brought that out in him. Thank you to K for indirectly validating my identity, and making me feel like I "worked" properly.

*The Femmes in a variety of porn (Pink and White, Fatale, San Francisco Lesbians 1-12, Working Girlz). These women really cemented the idea to me that Femme DOES NOT EQUAL weak. To me, feminine sometimes does, but Femme certainly does not. I am a fierce Femme, a feisty Femme. I have snarky lines, I am learning to flirt, I'm almost at the point where I'm able to get people to pin me up against walls and then fuck the hell out of me. Femme does not mean being passive in bed. Femme does not mean being passive in general. To me, Femme can and often does equal power. Thank you to these hot power Femmes for showing me that.

*Other Sex Bloggers. There are so many. Miss Avarice. Scarlet Lotus. Dylan. Lady Brett Ashley. Sasha Sappho. Pretty much half of Sinclair's community list. Sinclair's friend Muse, who posts comments on Sinclair's blog, and whom I was lucky enough to meet in real life. The writers at the Femme's Guide to Absolutely Everything (that is y'all!). Thank you to all of you for the comments, discussion, reassurance, new ideas, and so much more.

*Books. Books. Books. Erotica books. Academic books. Fiction books. Biographies. Memoirs. My shelves are covered with them. Thank you to all of the authors for showing me the giant spectrum of Femme, and letting me realize that there IS not definition for the label, and that I don't have to try and fit myself into some box.

I'm sure there are more influences, but these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Thank you to all these people and things, and to anything and everything else that has been part of the creation and realization of this identity. I appreciate you all.

-Essin' Em

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