This weekend in New Orleans I was part of an amazing performance weekend for the Palimpsest Novel book tour.  Performing on stage with the likes of Catherynne M. Valente and S.J. Tucker was such a joy, with the audience decked out in finery, masks, steampunk gear, and maps writ upon their flesh.  Trains of heaven had snaked us from Chicago to the Bayou, and I was in bliss having never been to the city before and getting to do it surrounded by some of my favorite people.

But neither the show itself (including me spinning poi on stage for the first time in 3 years,  me doing arial ropework involving a really powerful piece about emotional angst and rape, or doing ropework on the floor that involved the painfully cathartic work of destroying a novel ripped from the bound author' hands) is not what I want to write about today.  Its about my green corset.

We all have that one piece of our wardobe that has seen so much, done so much for us, with us, against us.  It has been there during the hard times and the good.  It has seen us fat and thin and every shade between.  It has laughed at us, supported us, held us.  It might be an old brooch or a favorite pair of shoes, a scarf or a coat.  I have a number of these, and this corest is one of them.

Green Corseted as a Woman

I got this corset from Morganna Femme Couture many years ago as a custom piece.  I loved it, though snapped the front busk quickly, shipped it back and the second held.  I tend to be hard on my clothing.  It is emerald green silk duploni and it used to fit like a glove- I could tightlace down to a 38D-28-42.  It was amazing.

I gave away most of my corsets, or sold them, or traded them, when I gender transitioned.  Firstly, no longer having breasts, over-bust corsets were silly to own.  Secondly, though I still identify as a drag queen, its been hard to get "girly" when trying to train folks to call me he.  I apparently confuse, baffle, make it hard for folks. But I had to keep this one, my orange and black PVC one by the same maker, and my leather waist cincher from another creator.  I could not would not part with them.  But neither could I wear them.

I have worn a corset "out" twice since transitioning until this weekend.  It was Dark Odyssey Winter Fire 2008 for the formal dinner.  Stockings, girdle (the one shown above), super-tall stripper platform heels, layers of black satin skirts and crenolines (long in back and short in front), tight orange and black corset, custom orange and black tall anime wig from Peacock Blue... eyeliner, glitter in my beard, and a flat chest under a black shirt.  People were baffled and yet had fun... but those who had known me as Bridgett (above) tripped over their tongues, unsure how to address me.  The femme fag boys were very supportive and loved it, and me. It was good.

The second was a drag piece for the Baltimore Erotic Arts Festival- where I came out in full drag queen/fetish model (for how different are they really?) glory, danced, stripped... then ripped off my fake boobs, got fully naked, removed my makeup, and got dressed into men's garb before a "mirror" (held up by my friend Graydancer) all to the song "Unpretty" in the 2nd half by TLC.  I walked away in my own skin, comfortable, hand in hand with my refletion.

But I haven't had the stregth.  Emotionally.  The whole drag queen thing is a lot of work, and currently rocking an amish-style beard I realized I need it.  The beard.  I don't get she'd.  Ever.  Ok, except on the phone once in a while.  I love being being high femme fabulous for an evening, but if it means I have to shave it all off which will lead to me having to juggle the depression and frustration of getting she'd again... I just don't have the strength right now.

So the corsets have lay quiet, borrowed by friends or just bundled and safe.  They lay fallow.  They were untouched, unheld, pulled no skin tight and forced no lungs to contort.

Wearing my Green Corset as a Man

Until this weekend.

The night before leaving on the trip I had a hair-brained idea and put it in my bag.  Black boots, black trousers, black shirt unbuttoned under the corset showing my chest fur.  Hat, goggles, key on a necklace, leather fingerles gloves.

It was good.  I've put on a lot of girth since going on testosterone, so instead of closing it it was open 4+ inches in back, and yet the look was still very dramatic.  Perhaps moreso because most folks in the audience had no idea I had ever lived, loved, and dressed as a woman.  Had no idea that once I was the woman above.  They saw a bearded young man with a 32" corseted waist wasped in and gasped.

I could only wear it for an hour.  Costume chaanges, and I was out of practice.  It was good though, if hard.  I kept fearing that people would know, would care, and yet I knew I had to.  For me.  And in the name of art.  I'm still femme, and sometimes, I need to accept, that that means my love for corsetry needs an outlet.  I won't be shaving my beard any time soon, nor my legs, but the boning is needed, the cotortion of flesh.  I need to feel it, to see my waist cinched in, to feel my power over my form, to feel light as I dance and laugh.

My love of corsets has not faded.

Technorati Tags: clothing, corsets, ftm, gender presentation, insecurity, queer, trans, transgender, transition, transmasculine

Cross posted from my blog, the Queer Fat Femme Guide to Life.

Zoe and Tara and I decided to head to Toronto for a crazy Femme adventure and somehow fate landed us each a hottie to have as a date on NYE. Despite our burgeoning Canadian trysts, we had an amazing Femme bonding weekend*. We went to a women's only spa called Body Blitz, lounged in their salt pools, hot tubs and saunas for a few hours for only $35 Canadian! We ate brunch, our favorite meal, every day at a new place. We got to indulge in one of our favorite activities, sexcapade redux on the road trip home, as it is rare that the three of us are getting it simultaneously.

During our trip we plotted out the details of our Golden Girls retirement home. You see, our plan is that we are each others' life partners, and we intend to retire someplace warm (I oppose Florida because humidity is not a friend to my thick tresses) and to seal our bond we are going to adopt a new last name. This last name is an amalgamation of all of our Femme Besties' last names put together, O'LowErlelisshamwinsonsonlee-Murphy. Rolls right off the tongue! We can't wait for the telemarketers to get a hold of that one.

I had a big crush on the Toronto Hottie I hooked up with, who I propositioned for a make-out ahead of time with a clever Facebook message. Rendering me shy is the sure sign that I am monstrously attracted to you, and even though I've known Toronto Hottie for years, I'd never mustered the gumption to flirt with her and thought the Facebook proposition was the surest way to overcome my shyness.

The proposition was very well-received. She was even better, nicer, and more talented than I had thought, and we connected in a way I crossed my fingers might be more than a one night fluke. A couple of sweet text messages on my ride home, and a few dirty Facebook emails the following weekend told me the chemistry was still there. It took a week to muster up the courage to ask her for a phone date. Or rather, a week and Zoe's Consiglierie insistence "JUST TEXT HER AND ASK". Our phone date was the same night, three hours long, I got off the phone and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

There's just so much to talk about and I have a lot of fun even on the phone with her. Since I'm funemployed, I've got a lot of extra time on my hands these days, thus much more traveling flexibility, as I can look for a job using the internet even in another country. Anyway, it didn't take much beyond her first couple jokes of "You should come visit next week" for me to seriously ponder this as a possibility.

I debated this pretty hardcore for the better part of a day. In some ways it seemed very practical--a fact-finding mission. Did we have chemistry beyond the first date? Was she as fabulous as she seemed and was she more than just a friend? Could she make the amazing deviled eggs she promised? Naima answered the practicality for me. "Bevin, the way I see it, there is nothing more sane than traveling for good sex."

I got further support from my friend Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha. "I completely support you traveling to the Dot** for Unicorn Dick."

So I drove my Prius up to Toronto again and had a really great date. I learned a lot about her and had a lot of fun in all the best ways. The sex was still amazing and so was hanging out an watching our favorite movies.

The next few weeks and follow-up visit have had me thinking a lot about Unicorn Dick in the context of the Queer Fat Femme lifestyle. Anyone who has done the dating thing as a Queer Femme knows how hard it is to find someone that embodies the killer combo of personality, looks, chemistry, smarts and timing.

I asked Leah to define Unicorn Dick further, and here's her dispatch:

"Unicorn Dick is lust and sexual skill. It also refers to the almost mythological perfect butch/trans guy cock / love / brain package that we often believe is as rare as a Unicorn Dick. When we find it, we can sometimes go insane, elevate the degree to which which value it above our life and our girls, and try to hide it / protect it / get crazy over it / everything in the world pales next to the Unicorn Dick.

This is unhealthy and is counter to the Femme Shark principle of 'His dick is not gold plated, but you goddamn well are.'"

It's hard to avoid a scarcity mentality when you find something you don't come across very often. As in, you want to absorb as much as possible because you're afraid it won't come around very often. But it's important to remember that if the Unicorn Dick is worth it, s/he is going to realize how crucial your besties are to you and support your priorities. Further, if you're a badass Queer Fat Femme, you can't become any less badass to please someone. In past relationships I usually deferred to the sensibilities of my partner because sometimes I was "too much". I remember Zoe reminding me when I was broken up with my ex, John, how much he held me back. I'm not doing that again.

You can get excited about Unicorn Dick but you can't let your inherent amazingness suffer. Because, ultimately, Unicorn Dick won't hold you up the way your inner strength does or your besties do. Maybe over time, maybe when things develop Unicorn Dick becomes part of your support system--but even then it should be part of it and not everything. I know from losing the man I thought was my forever how crucial it was that I kept my friendships strong. Even when I didn't even have the resources to get up off my kitchen floor while I was crying, I knew I could call someone to be there with me while I fell apart.*** That's what besties are for.

The reason why my Toronto trip was so wonderful wasn't just because I got laid or uncovered Unicorn Dick like a lusty archeological dig, it was because I was having such an amazing time with my closest friends. And you can't let years of friendship suffer because you find something shiny.

While I remain very excited about this Unicorn Dick, I'm still letting things unfold and in a data gathering phase. I enjoy the time we spend together, am appreciative of our connection and the chance to learn more about her and have great sex when we can make time for one another. Leah calls this attitude a "Zen Buddhist slut move". But what I'm really grateful for right now is the support of friends like Zoe. Knowing I have been having a really horrific unemployment/housing situation right now, Zoe sent me the following love letter.

"dear Bevin [a femme love letter]

sometime around spring 2002 i went to see this philly drag troupe perform and watched wistfully as all these hot [thin] femmes performed on stage alongside the kings. and i so wished to be one of them but i knew that as a fat girl, i wasn't good enough to do so. and then you came out and you unhinged my world in ... Read Morethe best of ways...

7 years later you are one of the best BFFs a girl could ask for. not only did you help me get on that stage myself (and so many wonderful, crazy, lascivious, hilarious adventures ensured), but you have been there for me through the good, the bad and the downright fucked up, steadfast in your love and loyalty.

over the past 7 years i've watched you grow and change and unfold unto the fucking dynamo badass force of glitter, muppety smiles, cheer, snark, wit, glamor, smarts, performance art, social hub and social change that you are. and you did so even through serious strife and hard times. i am so fucking proud of you.

one of the things that so amazes me about you is not only your ability to stay strong and positive and to focus on your joy in the midst of bullshit, but to be able to ask for help and reach out when times are hard and when you need support.

and so i just want to remind you, openly and here on facebook and for posterity, that i will always be there for you, by your side, whether it's on stage in matchy-matchy glittery outfits, holding your hand through hard times, or being next to you on the couch, cuddled up next to you and laughing while you torture me by playing Bob Seger songs on repeat.

you are an inspiration and you are my heart.

golden girls forever.
xoxoxoxoxo,
Z"

It is my wish for all Queer Fat Femmes that they find the kind of community, love and support I've found with my QFF besties. It's really the most special, magical thing you'll ever find--even more magical than Unicorn Dick.

*We were having such a great time Anna hopped a $70 flight from NYC to join us. She did not hook up on NYE but is pretty much awash in pussy in her new social circle in Portland, though technically still single and looking for dates.

**Why do people call Toronto "T Dot"?

***This happened to me again recently, for reasons not related to romance.

Technorati Tags: Bevin Branlandingham, butch/femme, butches, CommUNITY, dating, fat, fatshion, femme besties, femme sharks, femmes, friends, queer, queer fat femmes, sex, transgender, unicorn dick

When I decided at the age of 26 that I was going to finally gender transition, I was lovingly informed that I had to hang up my heels and become a real guy. One photographer friend of mine offered to give me “dude lessons” (sadly, not a euphemism for having sex with him). Another old friend informed me that transguys don’t do drag, or wear makeup. A small army of FtM folks and their allies I knew said that for the first few years after transition you have to stay a mans man in some way… its hard enough for people to get used to the pronoun change.

So I did. I would dress sharp in 3 piece suits or maybe on a brave day wear a pair of goggles and go a bit steam punk… but that was it. I bound back my breasts, started on hormones, jumped through hoops getting ready for surgery, and always dressed as butch as I could imagine. I found this all hilarious, mixed in with the hilarity. I mean, hadn’t others challenged me into being a high femme woman?

Growing up I didn’t identify femme. I wasn’t allowed to really. I was a genderqueer kid who was taller than anyone else in her class, sprouting up to 5’9” in 4^th grade before settling in just shy of 6ft. I was strong, a math wiz, and brainiac. The reality is no one who knew me as a kid was surprised when I came out as debating gender as a teen or finally transitioned in my mid-late 20s. And as the strong brainiac one who would never dream of being under a size 16, it was oh so easy to become a street punk butch dyke.

But I was doubling as a femme fag. My first boyfriend saw it and encouraged it, but the women I dated all saw my size and firmness and boy-ness and went “oh- BUTCH!” The lenses we each wear, right? But that vision from the men I dated of me as super curvy goddess led to that flicker of femme to grow. To simmer. To bubble. And eventually it became this thing I wore, a fine layer of lip gloss under the surface of my being. The thing I broke out and put on high volume when I needed to sneek into a nightclub- breasts first and deep red lips following.

I finally fell in love with a bloke in England who, based on our Dominant/submissive dynamic, informed me I would become a woman. More accurately, a high femme he’d be proud to have on his arm. Well, the lip gloss just beneath the surface was there, so he just scratched and peeled away the outer flesh and built that gloss up to a high shine. Platform boots, velvet skirts, growing my hair out, learning how to do makeup that wasn’t for the stage. But it always was a bit drag queen or costume… which was oddly hot for me. It was femme, but looking back, it was femme fag.

By the time he and I broke up, it had become habit for venturing out in public. Lipstick as my sword, corset as my armor, handbag as my shield. I was still a mix- punk patches, combat boots… I always will be, and I personally believe that all of those things are femme too. Thus when I arrived in the adult film industry, I had a great rack, a collection of heels, over the top makeup… and a career was born.

But 6 years later I shaved my head, and another year later I began discussing my transition out loud. People looked at me and started arguing. But aren’t you femme? Don’t you love corsets, heels, and being fabulous? Don’t you perform, cook, and do sex work?

I had flashbacks to being in high school at my therapists office. I had heard about this FtM thing and decided it was me. She looked at me and said, but don’t you prefer men? Overall, yes, but I sometimes like girls too. But don’t you say you like wearing women’s clothes? Yes, I do, so what. Stockings are sexy. But didn’t you say you are not dysphonic about your vagina? Its true- I like having sex with my vagina.

We’re not interested in creating a fag, she said.

It was all back. You have one right way to do it. That’s it.

Bullshit.

It had been 14 months since I had publically come out as being trans, changed my name in the public world, and 5 months after my chest surgery. I was going to a sexuality conference called Dark Odyssey and was going to go to their formal dinner night. Everyone I knew was dressing to the 9s, and I had no idea what to wear.

My orange and black corset tumbled out of the closet.

I sucked in my breath, and heard them all yelling. The friend with the dude lessons. The councilor from high school. The what you should voices.

Girdle. Seamed stockings. Platform high heels. Layers of black skirts, short in front and long in back. Tight corset. Flat furry chest with a black wrap shirt over it to stay warm. Huge wig. Eye shadow. Mascara for miles. Lipstick. And glitter in my beard.

Whatever I am, femme is part of it. And its not about pleasing the world. Its about pleasing myself, and living fully.

A dude with glitter in his beard.

Technorati Tags: gender, gender presentation, identity, memories, queer, sex vs. gender, trans, transgender, transition, transmasculine, what femme is

Via Facebook

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

MESSAGE: really cracking looking lady!!!! be lucky!

I'll note that when this email was sent, my user picture on Facebook was the following:

FROM: Bevin Branlandingham, Jersey City, NJ

SUBJECT: Re: No Subject

MESSAGE: Dear Mr. Theobald:

Or may I call you Paul? I am unsure how to navigate the social proprieties within the social networking spheres on the internet. Do you know, Paul? Please let me know if using your first name upon our first conversation is offensive.

I received your message and am unsure of your intent. What does "cracking" mean in this context? You see, I understand "cracking" in the sense of the verb. Perhaps when one is "cracking" their knuckles or "cracking" their gum as my mom used to say. I daresay I do not wish to be compared to knuckles, as they are sort of an unsightly body part as far as body parts go. Maybe gum, though, especially if it was that new "5" gum by Wrigley's. Do you have "5" in the UK? I like the names of the flavors, "Flare" is my favorite.

I looked up "cracking" in the urban dictionary, wondering if it perhaps was a slang term I'm not familiar with.

The first entry certainly can't be right.

"A term used by a low quality or mental radio DJ to describe items or fill space.

As used in a sentence: That was a cracking track from Peter Andre and there's more where that came from on our cracking show. So stay tuned!"

As the second entry also doesn't make sense in this context either.

"Removing copyright protection from copyrighted software. Commonly used to obtain software without paying for it. Cracking is not by inserting a false or used serial number, but to insert other documents and files into the actual program to make it seem like it was registered by a paying customer, when it actually wasn't.

As used in a sentence: My friend downloaded Microsoft Word, and is cracking it right now."

However, the third entry might be right, since it indicates your use of "cracking" might be a compliment.

"Something sensational, excellent or cool.
Part of 'what's cracking'.
As used in a sentence: That was a cracking pool shot!"

Since I am prone to seeking out and absorbing compliments, I will assume you meant that I am sensational, excellent or cool. And thank you for the accolade!

Congratulations on your engagement! If your fiance needs any chocolate brown and light blue polka dot organza bags for favors, I've got a bunch leftover from my defunct wedding.

Best of luck unto you as well!

Sincerely,

Bevin

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

MESSAGE: Wow!!! what a reply!!! and sorry !!yes cracking does mean!! how shall i put it!!! stunning!!!!!!!!! really super looking lady!!! and surprised no guy has snapped her up yet? Take care Paul xx

Then I changed my userpic as follows for a bit. This is my first published Paparazzi shot, taken by NY Magazine at the Catherine Opie opening at the Guggenheim. My friend Muse managed to buy digital images from the photographer. She's such a good supporter of the arts.

FROM: Paul Theobald, London, England

wow!!! u really are a stunner!!!! and stunner in good looking!!!! and no not all us guys look at boobs!!!!! some look at the girls face!!!! nice eyes and lovely smile!!!! be lucky!

FROM: Bevin Branlandingham, Jersey City, NJ

SUBJECT: Re: No Subject

MESSAGE: Dear Paul:

Thank you for the next round of compliments! I do appreciate that you find I have more assets than just my killer rack, though I will admit that as a lesbian, having a nice cleavage to look at really helps during the lonely times.

I have recently changed my user photo again so that you can see my lovely smile, since both of the previous pictures were really more of a smirk.

I have been thinking a lot about your question, wondering why a guy hasn't snapped me up yet. It's not necessarily that I am keeping myself off the market or anything, I do go on my fair share of dates. But having been through 5 years of functional monogamy with 2 back to back relationships and the bonus of a pathological liar scoundrel rebound, I'm a little skittish to jump into just anything.

I recently published a podcast about the Lesbian Footwarming Syndrome. This is the tendency of women to say "You're a lesbian, I'm a lesbian, let's keep each others' feet warm." With no further considerations for happiness, sustainability or compatibility. I delve in a little deeper to this in the episode, beyond just lesbianism. Especially when you add being fat, kinky, transgendered, dis/abled, a person of color or a myriad of additional identities, sometimes people fall into a scarcity mentality with dating.

The scarcity mentality is believing that there isn't enough to go around. The fear that maybe there really isn't someone out there that can love you for all you are AND be compatible with you. It manifests by settling for someone that isn't right just to have someone or staying in a relationship that isn't working anymore because the alternative of staying alone is terrifying. This is something sold to us with the dominant paradigm of couplehood in this society.

Paul, I don't know what it's like in the UK, but in the States it is definitely considered ideal for people to find a forever monogamous partnership and it is really devaluing to those of us who are critically engaged in our relationship status. Some queer femmes don't do the monogamy thing, some choose alternative family structures and some just haven't met the right person yet. I don't want to "settle" for anyone and I certainly want to be treated well.

I was engaged once, he ended things but after the break-up I've been privy to so many behaviors that made me extremely thankful I never had children with him and "Omigod you dodged a bullets" that I feel really secure that no one having "snatched me up yet" is cool. So I suppose I could partner with whoever might show interest, but I am really waiting for the killer combo of chemistry, personality, looks and timing that I am positive will come my way. Until then my Shih Tzu, Macy, is doing a great job keeping my feet warm.

Further to that, recently in the States there has been an onslaught of gay hating voter initiatives banning same sex marriage. At one of the protests I donned this sign, because even though I don't intend to get married eleven times or however many times Liz Taylor did, I still think I deserve the right to do so. Maybe just once a decade; hopefully to the right person again and again.

So here's hoping I'm lucky and you are lucky, too, Paul. Squeeze on your fiance tonight and tell her how happy you are to have found one another, love is rare and beautiful. I've just found a bunch of fake flowers and straw hats my mom was going to put together for my shower. If you're planning a garden wedding I'd be happy to send them off to you!

Cheers!!

Sincerely,

Bevin

Technorati Tags: Bevin Branlandingham, body, fat, femme, femmecast, femmes, identities, lesbian, marriage, monogamy, polyamory, queer, relationships, society, transgender

http://www.feminapotens.org

**An Open Letter From Madison Young**

Hello lovely people,

As you may or may not know, I not only perform in some of your favorite adult films and bondage sites but I’m also an artist and activist who runs a progressive art gallery in San Francisco, Femina Potens Art Gallery (www.feminapotens.org)

Femina Potens has provided hundreds or art exhibits, spoken word events, multi-media programs, film screenings and educational work shops over the past 8 years that reflect the experiences of women, transgendered, kink, and sex worker communities.  We need all of your support in order to continue to provide such resources to the community and create visibility for cutting edge artists.

With our new sustainer program you can donate as little as $10 a month, a tax deductible donation, and at the same time become part of a movement of artists pushing boundaries around identity, sex, feminism, public health, and queering how together as a community we engage with art.

Help support visibility and connection of the queer community through the arts.  Nurture your community by sustaining the only non-profit art gallery in the Castro and the country’s only queer public arts program.

Femina Potens is an all ages community funded gallery and is a reflection of all of us.  We encourage you to become a member.  Connecting Communities by Queering Concepts of Art and Sex.

Go to http://www.feminapotens.org to become a sustainer today.  Sustainers also receive such benefits as free tickets to Femina Potens events, VIP art events, and discounts on art purchases.

Thank you so much for your support.

xo,
Madison Young

Technorati Tags: art, bisexual, CommUNITY, Femina Potens Art Gallery, lesbian, madison young, queer, transgender