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INTRO CPage 1

SHAVING CPage 3

ANOREXIA CPage b

FATPHOBIA CPoae q

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INDOCTRINATION CPage II

SHAME, STIGMA, &: SEXUAL ABUSE

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TOP OR BOTTOM?

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QUEER IDENTITY CPofj2 1 'f

REIMAGINING FEMME

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DUTRO CPQge ;)..3

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This z:tne came about due to a. lot of thoughts I've been having recentJy about the nature ofbe1.ng what is commonly described as "femme." I got the title from a Pr1nce lyric because Prince is fuck:tng awesome and also because 1t pretty adequately BUlIlB up the nature of what thlB ztne means.

When I say tpat I'm a femme. th:1s means spec1flca.lly that I am Part of femin1st and queer oommunit1e8 (both of which ha ve long struggled to present wtmm1n's identities as being more expa.natve and varied than what society's gendered norma allow), and that I have come to Ident11Y as a genderqueer a.n.a.rohafeminiBt femme womyn (among ma.ny other thJngs).

What does havtng a femme identity mean? It means that I often wear makeup and h1g'h heels; enJoy wea.r1ng Bk:1rta and dresses; have extensive collecttona of costume jewelry and perfumes; and I also have a notable passion for stockings. Of course, many people who do not self-identify as femme share these fash10n preferences. So what else 18 betng femme really about? .AID I femme? If I'm not, who is? What does being femme mean, personally, politically, sexuaIly, and otherwise?

:Beyond my outward appearance and the way 1 dress, the definition of what it is to be femme becomes jumbled. To be femme often denotes, even more than a particular outward appearance, eertain attitudes and behaviors. Sometimes people inaccurately attribute certain behaviors of mine to my identity.

People have associated many th.t.ngs with my being femme. Here are some examples:

* Image-control behaviors such as matertalism; pride; negative body 1m.a.ge Be eating disorders

• Societal factors, tocluding vlcthn1za.tion; racial, ethnic, Be miltura.l identity; class background; my experience as a survivor of abuse; spea.kl.ng prtvllege issues such as be1ng un.a..ssertive, shy, 8OC1a.I1y uneasy Be soft-spoken

·EmotionaJ. behaviors such 88 worry, concern, protectiveness Be a.nxiety; neediness & codependency; and feeUngs of depression Be helplessnesa

$Se:x:ua.l behaviors, 1nOludIDg shame; sexual

preferences; slutt1ness; & sex positivity

·Domestlc behaviors such as generosity, kl:ndneSB and hospit.a.Uty

$Work ethics and career choices. such as my perfectionism.; my work 1n the sex industry; and my a.rt1stic a.bility

All of these thiDgs are part of :my individual persona.Iity and experience, but what I am asking myself (a.ndyou) is how relevant eaohofthese things are, and how any of them ared1rectJyrelated. to my

identity and experience as a femme.

To same people, my identity as a femme wom;yn means that I "wiillngIy or knowtngly" behave in certa.i:n ways that are part of society's unhealthy and oppreaB1ve structure of womynhood and/or femln1n1ty. To some it means that I "volunta.rt1y" collude with modern beauty standards. To others It means that my appeara.nce and demeanor 18 "dEill.berateI.y" more' pa.la.ta.ble to "the masses" because a femme identity may seem closer to the gender Identity of many ma.iD.B'tJ?eam wtmmtn Often, because I am femme, my gender and/or sexual Identityare assumed for me because I "1ook straJght."

Th1s ztne wru address many internal struggles that I have encountered in a.naJyzing my attachment to trad1t1onal "femlrunel'l ldeals, and will delve into brea.king down BOrne behaviors assoetated wtth my femme identity.

Some writing conta.tued within this zme may be trlggerlDg. Please be conscious of your emotional health as you read.

I am Bitting in the bathtub, sl1d:!Dg a razor named after the Greek goddess of love up and down my legs.

My rel&tionaJl1p with shaving has been In development for as long as I can remember, but I can clearly remember my first memory associated with shaving. It was a. BUIDJD_er afternoon, I was a.bout nine years old, and I sat watching my mother shave her legs tn a metal bastn on the back porch of the b1g house a.t our hippie commune.

As my mother is actually fa.1rly IDilltant about not shaving, I was accustomed to my mom having b.a.1r:v legs and armplta, and as far as I remember, a.Il of the wimmin wbo lived on the commune (with the exception of my big sister, who 18 seven years my senlor) were also unshaven,

My mother expla.1ned to me and to a couple of other wimmtn gathered on the back porch that she had a speclal date. I remember wonderl:ng what rt was about thls date in particular that would warrant my mother shaving her legs. Since my parents' divorce a couple of years prior, my mom had dated a mnnter of men, and I knew that she hadn't shaved her legs at any time during the course of her relationships with them. When I asked her why she was ahavmg her lege for thiB spectfic date, she didn't have an answer for me.

It turned out that she was going on a. date with a guy Who was somewhat "s.traJghter" than. some of the men she had dated tn the past. I wonder now If my mom was conform:lIlg to tnternaltzedbea.uty standards in order to please a boyfriend who m:1ght not have approved of her personal ohotoes; if she was shavmg as a personal choice or for fun; or jf 1t was a. da.y regarded as a spec1aJ. ooeaston,

I'd like to be able to say that I shave for speolal occasions, but th1s isn't entirely true. Yea, I do shave for special oeeastons, but these "special occa.s1ons" are also highly diotated. by ctroumstance, Its not like I shave for ceremoDiaJ. or 11tua.l purposes exa.ct1y, although sometimes that's involved too. I guess its complicated..

Most of the time the spec1a.I occasions that rID. taIk1ng about are situations where:

a) I would be embarrassed by the presence of my leg hair

b) I want to impress or seduce a lover

c) I want to make a good 1mpreBS1on on a potential employer or the general public

The question is, why don't 1 believe that I can be

appea.lto.g in a professional or sexual way with hatry legs and armpits?

With my lover Ren,. I know that he doesn't mind body hair. I shave my armpits and pubic hair 1nfrequently, but I mamtadn a pret1;y regular schedule of shav1n.g my legs. Wh1I.e I know that my routIne 18 notblDg compared to what many w1mmJn dictate for themselves, I UBU8Jly shave my lege at least twioe a month, to prevent my ha1r from getting "too lang."

Also, when I know that Renand I will probably spend the even1ngma.k1ng love, or tf1t 1B one of those infa.mOUB "special occasions" like an anntversa.ry .or a. birthd.a.¥, I will shave "for h1m..." Even jf I eorreot myself :lmmed1a.telya.fter thinking that I am shav.tng for h1B enjoyment, I aa.n't shake the nagging feeltng that I'm nat damg it for myself, I'm dotng it far my laver.

And What's wrong wtthshav1.ng for your laver's plea.sure,e:ractly? In a utopian world, I don't think I personally could ftnd anything wrong with it, but in the SOCiety we exlst in today, I feel like coDiaI'IIl11l.g to the beauty standa.rdsset 1D. place by oppressive and sexIst systems can be dangerous and b.arm.fuJ. to one's sense of self-worth ..

For one thing, Ren is male-identified. This makes the dynamic of my want1ngto alter my natural 00dy :In order to please him even more complex than it has been for me when I have been in relationships with femaJ.e-ldentlfted folks. The potent1al.ly submtssrve, m1.sogynist1c, and sexist unde:rcurrents of such thought processes about my body 1.Ioage disturb me. As a radical feminist. I feel that I am constantly lea.rn:lJlg new things about struggle, and it if! important to relIllnd myself to confront the ways in which lam oppressed and ma.rg1na.lized: in this case, I am. olearly "tnly1ng into" ma1n.st:rea.m ideals of feminine beauty and sexiness.

If I program myself into a mtndset that says I should 8havebefore"spectal occasion sex," wID I then be unable to fully enJoy special :n1gb.ts ofma.king love if I forget, don't want, or convince myself not to shave? If this is the case, should I then wean myself away from the habitual process of alter1ng my body to appeal to others and engage in healthier ways of nurtur.tng my body Image andselfeBteem?

On the other hand, should I deny myself pbya10al exper1ences that I enjoy and find erotic (t.e., the feeling of a my sleek legs sliding along a. lover's body, oral sex when I've shaved my ount, or the graceful curved shape of my shaved armpit) in favor of radical acceptance of my natural bJdy?

At th1s point, I know that the issue ofshavJ.ng .is complex and multna,yered for me. Sometimes I shave purely because I feelllke it. I want to take a lang bath, relax, shave as a process of catharsts and regenerat1on, and spend some tlme alone, read:I.ng or writing, puttIDg lotion or ail on my legs, and generally

pampermg myself.

But I also often find myself feeling ashamed to wear 8k::1rt8 without tights or b:lgh socks when I haven't shaved in awWle.

When I'm at work wear1ng a.nythlng sleeveless, I keep my arms pmned to my B1deam an effort to hide my ha1r.V armpits from management and CQwurkel'B. I don't want to shave my armptta: generaJIy I llke the aesthetic of armpit ha.1r, and I find shaving armptts to be extremely uncomfortable and geIlBraJIy a hassle. Desptte these strong feeltogs, I still feel the urge to bide'llly body hatr from people who mlght be offended by it. The very idea that I:might be otreD.dIDg people Wlththenatural. appearance of my body appaU.s me, and I am espec1ally disturbed by the notion that I continue to feel Bhame BUITOllnd1ng 1t.

5

I took Ben to see the creepy fish movie, you know, Ftnd1ng Nemo. We were at the Gateway mall trying to kill t1me, buyl:ng candy and making out 1n an effort to scare the squares with our full~nedged freak love, when I SPOtted the scale.

It promised my exact wetg"ht, a da.ily horoscope, and my lucky lotto numbers for just a quart.er. I begged. one off of Ran and then hopped on thescal.e, deposited. the cotn, and waited for the results.

The second the maohme started oalculatlng. I regretted my dec1s1on. I stood there suck:1nga. mouthful of candy, popptog m.v knuckles Ilervoualy. Roen watched me casuaJJy from a few feet away. I realized, in those few seconds, that I had no 1dea. what I a.ctuaJJ.y weigh.

There wa.a a. time In myea.rIy adolescence when I was obsessed with pl.U'SUillg a career In modellDg and/or fllmact1n.g .. I was naturally pretty-and talented, and I enjoyed theater and Ukoo.atte.ntton. I got an agent, had a few head shots taken,. and before long, I had secured a couple of fasblon shoots, educational video spots, and commercials. In no time, I was hooked.

I wanted to be acologo.e model, a des1gn.erglrl, draped in Gueci or Valentino, a movie star w1:tha. l.1fe full of acclai.mand high. drama. I hung pictures of models and actresses that I a.d.m1red on my bedroom walls and com.pared myself to them. Wha.twould it really take toach1eve my goala.? Good makeup, obv1oUBly .. An agent .. Talent. But above all, r realized that all of the models had one thing tn common: an uncomprom1slDg low we.1ght. I did some research on some of my model's stats to set what I feItweI'6 reaJIstiogoats,and soon decided that I would be happy if I could get down to 106.

r was a.l:ready skto:oy and tall - I've been just over :five feet e1g'b.t Inches since I was about fourteen, and when I first became interested 1n modelJDg and actl.ng I we1g.hed a.bout one hundred and twen:l;y-flve pounds, I quic.kly became anorexic and dropped rapidly to around one fifteen.

I knew that no one I knew ha.ve tolerated wha.t I was dotng - and I even knew what it was,. knew what I was do1Dg to myself,was fuDy conscious of every meal I sklpped. I knew that I had an. ea.tmg dtsorder, and leven wrote In my journal that I was "Voluntarny anorexic. n I knew the effect my ea.tI:D.g disorder was havIng on my health, my energy, my body, but I dido. 't care. I jUst wanted. to be th1n, and I was becoming add1cted to the feeJJ.ng of be:tng able to

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control myself. In a time In my life when I had very little control of factors that affected my emotional and mental health, controlllng my eating habtts became the next best th1ng. I liked the process of denying myself food when I had made m:ista.ke8 and rewarding myselfwith nourisbmentwhen.l had done something r1ght or completed an important task.

To avoid criticism from my mother or my conscientious friends, I would ten my friends that I had eaten dinner at my fa.mi1y's house, and I would alternately ten my fa.mlly that I had eaten dinner a.t my friends' houses. Even though. I was visibly diminlshing,1 got away with it. No one noticed as my petite-Sized clothes became looser and my cheekbones sank. I was completely flat-chested and sallow-faced, and roy eyes were r:l:nged with dark ctreles from lack of nutrition and exerelse. For a whfie I felt triumphant, glad I had gotten aw8\Y with my scheme. Then I began to feel abandoned,

This happened around the time that I realized I could no longer eat. I remember several occasions when I would dec1de to reward myself for somethrng I had done correctly "With a slice of p1zza or a bit of ice cream - only to find that I was pbyslca.Ily incapable of eating. The food wouldn't go down my throa.t. I could barely even chew it. My negative body Image had worked itself to such a fever pitch that I now associated the act of eating with pure ugliness. I felt an unbearable sense of worthlessness and disgust when I sat myself down before a plate offood, and no matter how much I des1red theta.ste, the feeling of food in my stomach, I couldn't force my body to do something that it had grown completely adverse to doing.

TblB was when I began to blame people In my life for my anorexia: how could they not have noticed me wa.st1ng awa.y? How could they not have cared enough. to say anythhlg when there Wag still time? Didn't anyone love IDe?

My agent was the only one who said anything. She told me that I looked beaut1ful, perfect, that I was guaranteed a breakthrough a:ny dB\V, that there were all sorts of hlgh-profile people :pel"UBiDg my head shots, that everyone was iD:terested In seeing me. But I never got any calls. I don't know if it was because I had a bad, lying, vicious agent (true) or beoeuse I looked 80 fra.l1 and skeletal (also true). I looked extremely m, malnourished, and deeply sad.

It was a strange place to be:in: I desp1aed myself for being unable to eat, for relinquishing the mental control I'd had over my own body, and I bated anorexia as a concept because 1t went aga.1nst so much that lbel1eved in. But I also di.dn't want to give up my thinness. The grotesque state of my unhealthy body :fa.so1nated me. I secretJy wondered how thin I could get, how littJe nourlshment I could actually 8UI'ViveoIL

Gradually, I began to eat agaJ:n as I worked through some other issues of control and shame, but it was a

long time before I reached anythIDg resembl1ng a. .heaJ.tby body weight. I had to do a. lot of in-depth WON and dJffI.cult processtug to get to the po:lnt where I BDJOYed food aga.1IL I don't remember much of it because it was BO traumatio for me.

Now, as it turns out, I'm 165 - which jg DDt a.t aU what I expected. I have DD reallat1c concept of my we1ght because anorexia still affects and tempts me. On days when I recognize it for what it is, I feel that I still BUffer from that disease, &TId I tm&giDe that I must be wasting away. On. days when I succumb to fatphobic standards of beauty, I feel that I must be a.t least e1g'hty pounds overweight. 166 Is a.c.tua.Ily rJ.ght in the middle of these twa extremes. It was scary, but I'm gLad. I spent the qu.a.rter on the seale at the maJl. This is :lnfarmatian I need for my own hea.1.IDg process.

flatpAobw

1 am a. healthy,beaut1fUl womyn.. I am a healthy, beautnul womyn.. I am a healthy, beautiful womyn. This is a. ma.:il'tra I repeat to myself often. Its a. remmder, a t.aI1Bman that I use to do battle' with B1zelat at.a.nda.rds of beauty and feml'n1n1ty.

I feelllke I have so much 1D:tern.aJ:lzed fatphob1a. that sometimes I wonder if I willeve.rescape it. But when r talk about it with friends I find that I probably have just about as much as any other womyn I know .. We an got it from a lot of the same sources: friends, advert1B1ng, movies, mom.

Tr:ytng to confront my own lnterna.Uzed :fa.tphob1a wh1le healing from anorexia has been a harrowing expeTience. I have :rea.llzed so much shtt :recently as rve been a.ttempting to decode a.ll these fucked up memories, messages and mantras that tloat around in my subconscious.

For awhfte, I got really interested in fat wlmmln's activism. 1 wasa.ll about it; the ideas of emb:ra.atng yom body for what it is,confi'onttng fatphobfa. and s1zeism., break:1ng down stereotypes, getting to k:o.ow other fat WiJnm1n .. and then I realized, I'm NOT fat. I'm not thin, either, but I'll get to that in a moment.

I have a distorted image of my body because of yearn spent obsessing over starvation :Lmagezy. Somehow I feel that the :!mages of stick-thin w1mm'!n that have been brand.ed into my mind are the average, or the norm. Subconsciously, I have made these i:m:agea of emaciated wtmmln seem normal, probably so that they would be more palatable to me in my uncha:ra.cter18t1c: puraultof thinness. Knowlng that I am. sixty pou:odB .heaVler than the average supermodel makes me feel fat. I know this reality makes a lot ofwimmln feel fat· or 1Dadequate, because models are presented in our SOCiety as the ideal, but for me, they have melded with myCODCept of what is normal for w'lmmln's bodies to look. llke. Therefore, I lla.ve a. lot of fatphoblc responses to my own body, when I am 1n alla.ctuallty, onJy a. bit fatter than average.

It took some tnvest1gatlan before I :realized. that I wasn't fat .. I looked at some fat=poa1tlVe zmes and websttes, checked out So fat wtmmJn's bw'lesque troupe because I have a strong :Interest In burlesque .. The wbnmm looked beaut1ful to me, and I felt· BO 1nBp1red. Then I rea.I1zed that most of these wtrumJn are over two .hundred pounds .. l don't even come close to that.

leventuaIIy had to check myself and correota lot of tb1nga I'd said to other folks about identifYing as fat,

I feel that if I don't confront my own warped body :Image and instead. try to seek radlcaJ. acceptance of my supposedly "fat" body, I wru be appropr1at1ng and usurping the rad1caJ. alltances of fat wJmm1n who are genuinely fat and who a.ctua.Uy face slzetsm and fatphob:ia. in our society.

Now, I'm focu.sing not only on deconstruotlng my own sizeiat thou.gb.t patterns, but also on being an ally to fat folks and fat liberation movements. And rm working reaJJy hard on acceptmg a.nd loving my own body as it 18.

Somethmg that has been helpful for me to 1mmed.1a.tely confront and diBsect any fatphobtc thoughts I have about myself. For example, one common worry I have 18 that I'll get gradually fatter and have less and leas energy-. I call myself out on fall1Dg rota a bullsblt stereotype that fat equates to lazy or unhealtby. I remind myself that generally, my 1088 of energy has to do with my depression and menta.l health issues, as well as my insomnia, and that it 18 those causes tha.t I ha.ve to focus on In order to ma.k.e myself feel better.

It bas also helped me a lot in this recent process of self-acceptance to remind myself how much I genuinely respect and cherish the diversity of my friends' body sizes and shapes, I try to remind myself tha.t if I can offer this kind of care, love and acceptance to people m my community, there's no reason why I can't overcome my own oppressive thought processes to offer it to myself as well.

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One thing I worry about is expla1ning my beauttfica.tion rltuals to kids - not only the ones that I may hypothetically ra1Be in the future but also any other kids in my community.

I have deep politIcaJ. opposition to oppressive beauty standa.rds set 1n place for Wlmmin in our society, but I also acknowledge (and am working on a.oceptlng) that I :rea.Uy and truly enjoy part.a.k1ng in some of them,

Betng a typicaJ. high femme, I believe notlllng can perk up my day quite l1ke a bit of sassy black eyeliner or a good red lipstick. Sha.ving, as I've already discussed, is sometlnng that sometimes feels cleansing and cathartic for me. Applying moiBtur1z1ng lotioDB, ons,and sweet-scented perfumes 1s an importa..nt part of making myself feel healthy, sacred, confident and beautiful.

But on oocasions when kids in my community Q1ke my six-yea.r-old sister, for example) have asked why I a.m putting on makeup, high heels or stock:1ngs, I haven't been able to provide an answer that sat1Bfie·s me. It might satisfy kids when I say something like, "Because it makes me feel pretty," but that kmd of mindaet scares me. I don't want to tell any kid that w1lnm:I:n are only capable of betng successful or attractive when they are wea.r.tng makeup, dresses, ea.rr1ngs, or a.nyth1ng else for that matter.

I don't like the idea that I may be he1p1D.g to indoctrinate kids into a devastating cultarre ill which negatiVe self-tmage 18 a reality for all of us. I don't want to be teachIng Iessons I don't agree with.

I think I have a huge responaIbillty to fully explain the thought processes behind all of my choices a.bout makeup and gene:ral appea.ra.nce to kids, and I think we should all glve a lot of thoug'ht to what we m:tgb:t be teaclllng klds in our casual responses and off-thecuff explanataons.

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[1Aame. [1Ugma g [1eKuaR cAbuge

Du:rlng the time that I strugg'Led with anorexia, my depression, &DX1ety, and mental health 1ssues really came to the surface as well.

I was dea.l1ng with a lot of complicated issues that had come up for me wlille recoverIng lost and deliberately hidden memortes of ch1ldhood sexual abuse. I was suddenly overwhelmed with 8hame and apprehension, and I couldn't bring myself to reaJJy tell anyone. I felt totally alone, and I didn't really know what to do.

I was also 'beginning to delve lnto the concept of purnu1ng sexual relationships with men, something that, frankly, scared the shit out of me. I had been with wlmm1n off and on since I was young, but overwhelming heterosexism, curiosity, and plain old boy crazed lust dro ve me to find out what all the fuss was a.bout the boy gender.

I found that my thinness, coupled with my status as a local model and actress, attracted the attention of a group of rich boys who went to the high school that my few friends attended. They were only fift.een and Sixteen, but had expensive cars, cell phones, and pagers. I had very few friends, stnce I was depressed and not tn the public school system, 80 I was excited to get to know them.

They soon adopted me as their "maseot;" and spent the next few months ta.king turns trying to get me in bed. Turns out they even had a running bet goblg for who could "pop my cherry," unbeknownst to me.

Even though I felt that these boys often mistreated me or behaved In ways that made me uncomfortable, I rellshed the attention.. Because of class dynamIca, patria.rehy, a recent. and very tr&umat1z:1D.g relationship with a boy who was a longtlme friend and heroin addict, and my own subm.1Ss1ve beha. viors that I had learned as a means to survive sexual abuse, the power 1nequ1ties in my relat10nships w1th these "trlends" were extremely visible. I didn't yet have the fem:1n1Bt education or voo&bula.r:.y to properly analyze what was bappentng 1n these intemot1ons, sJ.l I knew was that when I had become .sk:lmzy, boys had expressed interest In me - I had neverbeen at all popular before, and was actua.Uy oonstdered to be extremely weird. Now, none of these boys who were "my friends" even attempted to engage me in conversation, they just- told me that they'd do the talking and strode around school dances with me danglmg from their arm llke a

trophy. Somewhere tn the back of my mind., I knew all of th:I.B was deeply, deeply fucked up, but I craved the attention and frlendBb1J) so much that I pushed my feeI1ngs of discomfort and anger away.

When the four boys realiZed I wasn't go1ng to put out, they ditohed me one by one. To be honest, I was so dtsaasoctated dur.tog tha.t time period tha.t I really don't remember how I felt about it. I tmaglne I must have been devastated. I do remember them twisting th1ngs around andteD.:ing me that they couldn't be Mends with me because I led them on, because I was a eoekteese, and because I flirted With other people too muoh'tn front of them, and it hurt them deeply that I would be so aIutty.

At the time. I felt unbe11evable guilt at their IIlisOgyDjBtI.c aocusattons. I hadn't m.tended to flirt With anyone, and I was confused as hell about wha.t they were telllng me about my behavior. I felt tha..t I was pretty shy and inept, and I didn't have much confidence when it came to askb::tg boys out or maktng the first move. I had all but abandoned l:fk1ng wlmm1n because one of the boys had lDformed me that while "bisexuals" were "hot," I should probably keep it to myself and save my interest tn glrls for a time when I could use it to surprise a lucky boyfr1end.

I was extremely susceptible to believing the things they were telI1.ng me because of some damagtng th1ngs that had been said to me by sexual abusers, and also because SIDce the faintest onset of puberty, my mother had been projecting her own shame upon me whenever she got a.ng:ry, and some of her favorite new Insults to throw at me were whore, slut and tramp. I felt, somehow, that my beauty was a curse. I was aware that I was thin and considered pretty, but I also knew that no one expressed an interest in anything I had to say, and it seemed l1ke every t:ime r ta.Iked to anyone, it was assumed that I was fl1rt1ng. I became a.fra1d to 1n1tiate conversations with boys because I didn't want them to feel led on by me, and I was a.f:ra1d of talking to girls because I Was afraid they had heard about my terrible reputation as a slut and a tease.

I spent a long t1ro.e fee11ng plagued by their words and by memories of my abuse. As I unoovered more repressed memor1es, my anxiety and depression got worse. I began having panic a.ttacks, though a.t the time I didn't know what they were. I would become overwhelmed with dizziness, fatigue, the feeling that I couldn't breathe. I would iIlBult myself in my journa.l or under my breath, telling myself how useless, worthless, lazy, ugly and dishonest I was. I repeated words that my mother and the men who sexua.Ily abused me had sa.1d to me. I repeated them over and over aga.1n untn I believed them. Then I would cry and eventually fall asleep.

After several years of trying to deal With the memor1es of abuse, it became too much for me. I was fixated on several memortes, and had stopped the flood of others that wanted to pour into my conscious

\ 3

mlnd. I started trying to heal. at fil'st on my own. I told my story a.t a website that bad been establiBhed to support abuse survival'S. I learned to call myself a survivor fDstead of a viot1m. I stubbornly faced the few :memories that I had a conscious grtp on (the least frlg'htenmg tmages and moments from certa.bJ. ooeastons) until I felt that I had completely come to grIps with everything that had happened.

But st1ll, every ttme I even came close to maktng out with a boy, I would pa.n1c .. The fI.rst time I reaJly told a real. live, v1s1ble human my story, it was to a twenty-yea.r-old man in. Atlanta., Georg1a., when I was fifteen.

I was traveltng, recuperating from my most horrendous period of not eating, and I thought I could trust the person I was with. I was staying with my stepfather's brother and h1s famfly, and this person was my stepfather's brother's wtfe'8 son from a previous :ma.:rri.age, 80 not rea.lly my ooustn, butsort at He and I hit it offtmmediately. He was engaged to a womyn whom I had bI1efiy met, and there were five yea.iabetween us. so I naively assumed tha.t our relationship had aBOrt of archetypal Uttle s1ster relating to big brother quality.

We snuck out of his suburban house late one mght to dance in the rain and atterwa.rdB he took me to a nearby playground. Somehow, my story came tumbling out. I couldn't say much, but I expressed. the confusion and terror that I felt durIng my awkward first attempts at hooklllg up with boys. He ga.ve me a hug (wtthout asktng) and I felt nervous but okay with it, as 1 thought he was tryIDg to comfort me. Then he began k1BBlng my neck and he moved to kissing my lips. I became uncomfortable and tried to break away by gl.ggI.:Ing and saying I wanted to swing on the swings. For awhile, things were okay aga.1n, but when we got back to his house, he continued his persistence.

We went up to his bedroom to l1sten to music and talk. It waB late by thia time, maybe around two or three 1n the morning. I had changed out of my ratnsoaked clothes .Into pajamas, and I was wearing a green t-shirt and sweatpants. Be started complimenting me, telllng me how pretty I was. He told me he thought I was too sk:1nDy, and I awkwa.rdly replied that I was working on it.. Then he began kissIDg me aga.1n., and I dtdn't know how to end It. I didn't k1sa back, but he didn't stop. F1nBJIy I said I was tired, and he pleaded, '"Just a. few more minutes, It pushed me back onto b1s bed and removed my t-sh1rt. I wasn't wea.rtng a bra., and 1 had never been topless 1:1ke tb1s With a boy before. I was teIT1fled., and ashamed of my breasts, which I covered hl.lI'T1edly with both of my hands. He told me I didn't have to be shy and started. trying to wrench my bands away from my chest. I panicked and started to cry, and told him I really needed to put my shirt ba.ck on. He seemed fro.stra.ted, but he gave my shirt back and I quickly put it on.

I couldn't breathe, and I just kept sta.r.ing at hlB

waJlB. He started ten.tng me about how great hav1Dg sex with his fiancee was, and how I was so sexy he couldn't believe 1 was stm a v:I.rgIn. He pomted out a bunch of notahesca.rved tnto his hea.dboa.rd and brought out a knife. He told me that he carved a notch 1n the bed for fNery time he had sex wtthb.1B :fiancee. He asked if I wanted to see biB weapons collection, and started laughingly tellingme about h1B akills In martlaJ. arts and how he could snap me like a twig jf he felt l1k.e it. Fi:na.lly, barely breath1ng, I sa.1d that I was tIred and had to get up early and I escaped his room. I vaguely remember goiIlginto the bathroom, locldng the door, and vom1ttng, but after that, I don't, remember a.nything else.

A couple of months later. when I had returned from travel1ng, my mom caught me on the phone with the rape cr1s1B center In the middle of the night. She demanded to know why I was calling a rape crisis llne, and I was forced to teU her that I'd been abused as a child At flrst I WBB relieved, and felt that maybe she would know how to help. but she mjnjmized the abuse by saying that 1t wasn't tmportant and that there were many wonderful things in my life that I could focus on a.B an alternative to getting bogged down In my experience as an abuse survivor.

Try as I might, I couldn't rid myself of the memories, and they only lntenstfted, especially when I continued my attempts at sexuality with men. Wores yet, sttuattons l1k.e the one that had happened in Atlanta continued to occur. I would meet boys, have a pla.tonic or m11d crush attraction to them, divulge some of my abuse h1stozy, and they would attempt sexual conta.ctwtth me. I didn't get any more confident a.bout rejecting them, and a.U these experiences did for me was drive home the idea that my abuse experiences were erotic and made men want me.

Later, this became confuB:Ing to me, and I would seek out comfort and support for a.buse memories and triggers from men who I wanted to be In relationships with_ Often, ta.lldng about beIng molested was a key point In hooking up With someone. More sensitive men who ha.d. some knowledge of appropriate support techniques would respond with confusion and dlsmay when I attempted to kiss them after ta.lkiDg about lntense memories of abuse, but a lot of men took a.dvanta.ge ofm;v state of compulsive v:ictlmlzat1on.

Somehow I deduced that the ideal situation would be if I could ten a man about my abuse h1Btory, he would comfort me, kiss me gently, and take me sexually. I didn't expect panic, shame or insecurity to enter the picture, but as soon as I laid down next to anyone to take our kissiDg to the next level, I would pa.n1c. On rare oocastona my partners noticed my stiffened body and shaJlow breatb..1Dg and stopped to ask me what was wrong, a.t which point r would compulsively ta.l.k about the abuse and that would usuaJly end our sexua.l relationship because we would both come to an unspoken agreement that I wasn't :ready. But most of the time they wouldn't

notice, would disregard my signals, or would take advantage of my vulnerability to further their own sexual agenda. Th1s bred fear and distruBt. alongside the panic, fear and a.nxI.ety I was already feeUng because ofllashba.cks and repressed memoriee,

My unhea.lthypattel'llS continued until at seventeen I got together with someone who had been a good friend for a long ttme, I WBB seventeen. and the :fa.rthest I had gone w1th a man was l'elDDving:my shirt and having h1m kiss my breasts. On top of all the confusmg sexual patterns I had developed and the upsetting and unresolved abuse responses, I was also :feeling ashamed and 1n.adequate because of:my lack of sexual expeI1enoe.

Ben and I got together under the pretense that we would be casual make-out partners, but he soon became very controIllng. This was a relationship that I didn't quite understand. I wasn't very attracted to him. but I felt that we had establiBhed some trust as frienda, and 1 was 'interested. in pursuing sexual knowledge - and he had volunteered as a. wiU1ng participant. I had already told him that I'd been abused, but it was in an offhanded way several months prior.

One night, we were k1as1ng on my bed and I started. to panic. I had decided that I was going to make an effort to actually work through my abuse memories, to process them., to heal my broken sexuality. I knew, instinctively, that this was the only way t.hings would ever work out. I stopped him and told h1m that I tended to get scared while making out because of abuse memories. He asked me for some detail, and because I was already disassociated, I told him more than I had told anyone except the anonymous support base I found on the Internet.

Benresponded to my disclosure of abuse With an alltoo-fa.m1l1ar :reaction: he found it erotio and asked me if I would give h:im a blow job.

For the first time ever, I became angry. I d.ema.nded to know why he wasn't o:ffe:rtog me support. I told him that ifwe were to bave a successful relationship, I needed him to help create a safe epa.ce BUrl'Olrod1ng sexuality. At 1irst, it worked and he a.pologized.

But our relatiOnship became more and more abusive, with him constantly overstepping bounda.r1es and pressuring me to do things I didn't feel comfortable doing it. In the past I had blamed myself for scary sexual situations because I knew 1 h..adll.'t been assertive about deB1res, lxnmd&r1es or what I needed to feel safe. Now that I W88 reillg assertive and my requests were not being honored, I shut down completely. It was like being molested an over aga.m_

Most of the t1mes after we made out I would have to run to the bathroom to throw up, then I would lock the door and stay there, sta.r:Ing at the wall. Ben would knook on the door and ten me to let hhn in, but I barely even heard him., even the times he was yelling at me.

I didn't understand what was happentng. I was numb and felt dead 1ns1de, but when he initiated malctng out with me, I couldn't even ask him. to stop anymore because he had proven by repeatedly violatmg my boundaries that he clidn't care.

I isolated myself from my frlends because I suddenly felt that I couldn't trust anyone and that no one a.ctua.IIy cared for me. I began exa.mining everyth1ng. I felt Ilke nothing was real. After so many years of belng submissrve and kn.ow1I:Lg somewhere 1I1Blde that I needed to find SOIDe self-confidence - now I had flna.l1,y foUnd my votoe and it had done me no good.

Ben saw that :my a.l1enat1on worked to h1s a.d.vantage and encouraged me not to hang out with any of my friends, sa.y1Dg he didn't tb.i:nk. they were good for me and he didn't know If our connections were :real or worthwhlle.

I never caJled him on the phone, but he would always show up at my house, like clockwork, and I never told him to leave. DurIng the entire course of our relationship, he never onoe asked 1f th1ngswere okay, even though he knew fully that everything we were doing was unexplored territory for me.

Our "rela.tionship" was a. series of sexual violations, most of which I have blocked out of roy memory. It ended me when he raped me and left a few days later to return. to college 1n New York.

I stID have so many tssues around this. It 18 five in the rnornmg, I have been wo.rk:ing on writing thlB all IDght long, and I am wide awake.

Before 1 was raped by hrm, 1 felt that I had hope, d:r1ve, :iDBptration and SPirit. Now, as much as I try to get back to that point, I feel all too often that I am empty 1n.side, Ifke I have no desire or interest in a.nyth1ng that I once found enthra.1llng.

I became sexuaJly compulsive after being raped, and I would say yes to people because I didn't feel like there was ever a. place for me to say no.

I am just now fto.aJ1y beginning to learn about my own destres - I am teacb1ng myself to reoogn1ze the difference between oooa.s1ons when I a.ctuaJIy earnestly want sex and occasions when I feel 1nexpl1aa.bly obl1ga.ted. or expeoted to have sex. I value my assertiveness, and I am red1scoveI'iDg my own boundaries and slowly. wtth love and support, fjndtn,g a way to esta.bl1sh a healthy, sacred and lovm.g sense of sexualii;y.

)'T

flop On CBoffom?

I am what some folks llke to caJl a. switch.. Th1s means that I am both a "OOttom" (more submIBs1ve or tra.d.1t1onaUy fern1n1nA lover) and a "'top" (more aggressive or tra.dit1onaDy masculine lover).

I enjoy betng ravished, but I llke a. healthy dose of be1ng the one to do the rav1Bh1ng as well Deperutlng on my mood, I like to be seduced or I like to perlorm. a l1ttle seduction. r like to put the moves on, but I'm not adverse to havIng some moves put on me.

Most of the time, this feels natural and fun (espec1aIly because Hen is a genderqueer switch too, BO it works out well for us to alternate roles). But sometimes, I have some 1BSUe8.

I have been workiDg on a.naJyzmg lIlY sexuality in terms of how I have been affected by rape and abuse, and a. lot of what I've been tbinking 18 that somettmee, when I'm having an especiaJ.1y tr1gge:ctng day and then I try to have sex even though I'm not feeImg the greatest, my manifestations of top or bottom have some icky undertones.

When I've had a bad day and I'm feeling toppy, I wOITY that there's a lot of rage involved and a. burnIDg desire to reclaim some of my sexual control. When I've had a bad day and I'm feelln.g more like a bottom, I get reaJJ.y upset tbtnkjng about the dynamics of oppression and dominatlon that have been so prevalent in my experience as a survivor.

I don't, however, want to refrain from sex on da.ys when I've gotten tr1gge~ because if I did that, at th1B potnt, I would never get any. I live my 11fe as a BUI'Vtvor of rape and abuse, and I'm b:'y1ng to work through it. not 19lJore it. So I'm foouafIlg on an anaJ.ys1s of my sexual behaviors and preferences.. so I can try to a.:trect positive and healthy change in. my attitudes toward sex 80 that I don't have to feel 80 traumatized aoout it. Eventually I know I'll get to the bottom (or perhaps to the top) of' all th1s.

Queeh !Jdellfltg

I'm queer. There you have it. I am a femmey. femmey genderqueer dyke who dJgs more genders than just girls. True, I do like girls a lot; I like be1D.g a girl and I like be1Dg with other girls: I wear dresses and I dig pU68y. I like'leg warmers, l1pstick and ladies.

In lots of ways, I have always been a fabuloUB llttIe femme lesbian at heart, from the time when I tried to gIve a beauttful ohestnut-haJl"ed ne1ghbor an antique faux emerald necklace that a.ctuaIIybelonged to mom (1 was six, wha.t can I s.ay?) to my most recent relationship with a womyn wear we liked noth1ng better than to swap shades of lipstick and trade eyeaha.dow tips tn between heated bouts of paaslonata Jdsstng.

Unfortunately. somewhere along the way I developed the notion that r wasn't aIlowedto be both fem1nine and queer, and certa1Dly not fem1nin.e and genderqueer - God/dess forbid!

The idea that "g1rly girls" didn't like other "girly girls" was horrendously confuBtng, seetng as I was just as interested in chasing skirts as I was m hernmtng them with fancy lace and frills.

I got the uncomfortable feeJ1ug that there was no place 1n the world for a. young femmey tomboy moatly-girl who liked (among lots of other genders) glrlwimmfn with homemade tattoos, retro evening gowns, crooked teeth and DIY haircuts,

And I must confess, that feeling is pervasive, and has stuck with even after some of the ho1'l'i.fYj:ng alienation and awk:wa.rd.ness of adolescence has subsided.

I still feel that in. a. lot of dyke communities, I'm not really welcome unless I can somehow prove myself as a "real lesbian. II Maybe everyone feels like this, but I can't help but feel that .my so-called b1aexua.Ilty and my random hatred of the IndIgo G1:rls helps fuel sentiments that I m1ght be an lmpostor.

I know that a. lot of queers (er, all of us, really) ha.ve been wronged by stra1ght fa1ks, but the th1Dg ts, I'm not atraJg'ht! I'm queer as helL r like girls, boys and all Barta of other folks too. I am a girl, a boy. and lots of other interesttng genders, sometimes one a.t a time and sometnnea all at once tn a dramatic medley of know-it-aIl encyclopedic trivia, knife-weflding toughnesa, army boots, feather boas and fake eyelashes.

I w1Bh that queer communities could be a. bit more open to genderqueer folks lik.e me who tend to dig on

all sorts of genders (tnoludtng my own).

For a. long tame I felt alienated and excluded. and I also felt a lot of pressure (oomtng from my own inte1"IlBl.ized queerphobia and from people in my community) to choose: either butch or femme.

The butohes got to me first. I was told that I'd be cuter if I butched up, that wlmrntn would recogn1ze that I was queer and I'd get more sex, and that I "seemed more lJke a butch than a. femme anyway."

So for awhlle I went for it, and sometimes it felt great. There's definitely a butch, tough, burly, boyish side to me. I had a shaved head and I wore d1sca.rdeda.r:my gear an awful lot of the time. I also smoked un:Oltered cigarettes, spit a lot, and professed an interest in lea.rntng a 11ttle someth1ng about car engtnes, And for a.while, I felt comfortable with this newfound and concrete gender 1dentity. I was having a great tilne, but secretly, I longed to mix up this butchness with a healthy dose of my glitter pens, lip glOBS and sllk: pajamas.

My butch pals kept encouraging me, and I was almost convinced - there was, after an. a time when I had identified as a boy for a. year or so. A couple of the butch foIkB who were encouraging me told me that I had probably started to come out as a boydyke, gotten traumatized by some tranBphobic occasion I couldn't remember, and had gone 1nto repression, hieting beneath Layers of confusion of gendered cloth:1Dg items: army pants, camisoles, leather jackets, crinolines, hair gel and ribbons.

And I almost convinced myself that I was a total. full-on, no holds barred butch to the core, but then the yea.rnmg to wear perfume became too much and I realized that I just waan't cut out to be a. full-tame butch.

Now you would th1nk that by that time. I would understand that I'm just one hell of a gender rebeL But of course, I had to try out the polarity, and for awhlle there I thought I could be a. full-time femme 1nstead. I was decked out in high feIIllD..8 gear every day of the week, wearing at least an ounoe of eyeliner ._ one each eye, an abundance of pink, and an ungoddesaly amount of rhinestones that probably could have caused aome serious eye 1.nju.ry 1f you caught me m the wrong light. But I wa.sn't at ease this way either.

Femmes told me I was :in butch recovery, and they repr:tma.nded m.e for speaking in a voice that was too deep or harsh. I was scorned forweaJ.1ng jeans, told that I was sloppy, or "letting myself go" if I spent less that half an hour on my hair.

When I started to speak to anyone who see:m.ed. vaguely dykey I would get all confused and. try to butoh up and be femmeyat once, which works when I'm just gblllg with it and it is an au na.turel part of my mixed-up gender identity, but it seemed to cause a lot of str1fe when I was trytng to stille the butch

';LO

part to let my femme self shtne, or the other way around.

But suddenly one day when I had an uncontroIlabIe desire to wear high heels with men's trousers, lipstick and a. butch m.uscle t-shtrt, I realized once and for all that rm. not comfortable being a. full-time a.nythlng. whlah 18 Why I'm devoted to glv1ng myself space to allow for my gender to be fluid and mutable.

BeceDtIy, I have identified mostly as a feJIime with some butch touches thrown in an occasion, Whatever my gender identity happens to be, r have to a.dmit I usually feel pretty satisfied, but it has taken me a. lang ttme to a.ccept myself. and I thlIlk it mtght take the rest or my community a little longer yet.

CJ2 eimagilling g emme

Thls is a. caJI to all flerce,tough, in-your-fa.ae femmes out there, my l:dndred sptrtts. Let's break down these notions of femme Identlty denot1ng weaJmesa, vuInerabl11ty. inability and a need to be protected or defended!

I want to see:

·EIasttc-top stookings that have been altered to hold a. knife, 80 we can rest assueed tbatgIamor and defending oneself go hand-m-bend,

·Tough broads wea.r1ng secondhand prom dresses and DIY tia.ra.s feel1ng free to wander the streets all night in pa.ck:s, reenacting all those unsa.fe and scary school dances where the prevaJHng 1dea was that we had to be walked Iight to the front door afterwards.

• FolkB recognizing the totally tough and utDita.rl.an benefits of sklrt.s: you can covertly take a. piss, make a. temporary pocket toea.rry stuff in., and look pretty while you're a.t it.

·Wimmin learntng to use high heels as weapons, My mom always called them rape shoes because you couldn't run in them. But what ifwe didn't run, .. ?

·PeopleacknowledgIDg those who look femme as belng intelligent, valuable inclividualB, notjUStsexuaJ. playthlngs.

• Girls all dressed tn whIte, with long flowtng hair and pink lipstick cursing as much as they fuck::lng want to, spittmg and fa.rting in public.

,. All the ways in which we femmes are tough and proud and scarred and strong, expressed. Ina way tha.t is loud and true, 80 we won't be d1smiBBed or shoved aside anymOI'eas wjmmin who aren't "'reaJ. fem1n1sta. "

Idea.a?Thoughts? Inspl:ratlon? Go for It I

()utkO

This ztne was put together over a two-day pertod on July 30th and 31 at of 2003.

I haven't covered everyth:1ng I hoped to cover in th1B ztne, but there are just so many complex experiences la,yered one en top of the next, and sometimes they are impoSSlole to separate - even when I can sepa.ra.te them. It it sometImes lmpossible to find the words to express what rm in the process of mentally SCrutiDi zing.

I hope you enjoyed Pretty Girl Look So Tough., and I hope tha.t it encourages you to thtnk about and confront your Ideasrega.rd1ng gender, sexism, genderqueer issues and :m:tsconceptlona or stereotypeS about people who IdenttfY as femme.

I would love feedback (tnotudmg constructive criticism) on tb:iB project, as jt has been anintenBe1y personal and cathartic process of unea.rthtng some things I haven't thought about In awhlle, as well as a deep analysis of societal truthB. Also, I want to hear your answers to the quest jon: what 18 the femme identIty?

If you are interested:ln distroing this zine or asking me to donate a few copies for a. l1bI'8.l'Y or research project, contact :me and we'll discuss rates and whatnot ..

You can write me:

Olivia Mercury Pepper P.O. Box 12258 Eugene, Oregon

97440

Or you can. email persephonetapissed at hotma1l dot com..

In BOl1d.a.r1ty.

Olivia.

,

lJ