MOVED

joan nestle once talked about the role she habitually took on when the cops would come into bars to collect their bribes and harass the patrons. It was her job, she explained, to keep her partner, a butch, from going completely berserk and attacking the cops who were trying to bait them into that exact thing. it was joan’s job to keep her partner’s attention focused on her, to calm them down, and to prevent her lover from being beaten, assaulted, raped, or imprisoned. that was the context of femme, for that person, in that time, in that place.

and that’s the thing about a lot of these old labels and the roles that went with them— they were one word descriptions for parts in a play that would take place every time a cop invaded our spaces.

some roles were about keeping one’s loved ones focused and distracted so as to avoid drawing violence from the police. some roles were about distracting the police— mocking them or physically attacking them or simply drawing their attention so that other people could escape physically or escape notice completely. some roles were about taking care of people after they drew attention from the police; physically and emotionally and psychically. this could be done by being extremely funny. this could be done by administering medical care. this could be done by involving lawyers, and paying for the lawyers.

the list goes on. so much culture stems from the defensive archetypes and power/healing fantasies that rose from a period of heavy policing. and they’d trade labels all the time, especially as the labels evolved along with the roles and more and more spaces with much lighter police presence opened up. the language disintegrated and coalesced around new archetypes and new fantasies.

FUCK THAT!

WE MIGHT BE YOUR GIRL,

BUT WE’RE OUR OWN FEMMES.

WE RECOGNIZE THAT FEMMES ARE LEADERS OF OUR COMMUNITIES.

WE HOLD IT DOWN, CALM YOUR TEARS, ORGANIZE THE RALLY, VISIT YOU IN JAIL, GET CHILDCARE HOOKED UP, LOAN YOU TWENTY DOLLARS.

FEMMES ARE WELDERS, AFTERSCHOOL TEACHERS, ABORTION CLINIC WORKERS, STRIPPERS, WRITERS, FACTORY WORKERS, MOMS, REVOLUTIONARIES DEDICATED TO TAKING THE SYSTEM THE HELL DOWN SO WE CAN BE FREE!

FEMMES ARE LEADERS IN TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS/ DEFENDING OUR QUEER AND TRANS OF COLOR COMMUNITIES.

WE USED OUR STILETTOS AS WEAPONS AT STONEWALL.

WE WERE THE TRANSWOMEN WHO FOUGHT BACK AT THE COMPTON

CAFETERIA

WE’RE THE GIRLS WHO STARE DOWN ASSHOLES STARING AT OUR LOVERS AND FRIENDS ON THE SUBWAY.

WE WALK EACH OTHER HOME

ACT CRAZY ON THE BUS TO GET ASSHOLES TO MOVE AWAY

AND KNOW HOW TO BREAK SOMEONE’S LEGS

My boyfriend My boyfriend has some peculiar tastes about me. Tastes that distance me from myself. My boyfriend likes it when I look lost. When I look innocent. He’s older than me. And would never date a woman his age. Let alone an older one. He also doens’t like tall women. Or muscular women. He likes it when I show fragility. He likes it when I ensure vulnerability.

My boyfriend has some peculiar tastes about me. Tastes that distance me from myself. He feels unconfortable with my intelligence Or when I do something that demands dexterity. He loves it when I pretend I don’t know. And resort to his opinions. He likes to feel like he’s my teacher. And like I’m his enamored student. The opposite bothers him. He finds me sexy when I look stupid WIth my mouth half open And a finger against my lips.

My boyfriend has some peculiar tastes about our relationship. Tastes that distance me from myself. He likes me with my armpits shaven Like I was before puberty. He likes me without hair on my crotch Like his 8 year old niece’s crotch. At most, a small bush over my clitoris Like a 13 year old’s crotch. My breats should look like an adolescent’s Or he leaves me for someone else.

My boyfriend has some peculiar tastes about our relationship. Tastes that distance me from myself. He feels good about yelling at me. He feels good about controlling what I can wear. He likes to pick me up on his lap. He asks me to call him “daddy”. He finds me sexy when I come to him crawling. He turns me on my back and spanks me. He bought me a schoolgirl costume. He asks me to wear pigtails and suck on a lollipop. That’s exactly how my neighbor’s 10 year old Wears when she goes to school. Just like it arouses him.

My boyfriend has some peculiar tastes about me. Tastes that distance me from myself. His tastes may sound eccentric. But they are the same as my friends’ boyfriends’. And my neighbors’ husbands’. The same that appear on TV. That same on the magazines. That’s the way to win a man over, We soon find out. To look like little girls. That’s the way to win a man over.