The Total Femme

Saturday I went to a very dear holiday fair for young artists (6 – 12 years old). People, I was able to purchase a crocheted emotional support pickle: “There for all lifes moments! It’s no big dill!” As well as a wonderful clay dog executed by a very small person who perhaps had never seen a five dollar bill before given his unadulterated glee when I handed it over (all the vendors had online payment options). I love kids. I love supporting kids in their artistic endeavors. I also bought a crocheted butterfly.

One of the young people was a dab hand at knitted hats, and was, in fact, wearing a wonderful Teletubbie hat complete with ears. We had a whole talk about it, with me reminiscing about how the purple Teletubbie had that whole stupid thing about being a bad influence because of the purple triangle on its head and the fact that it carried a purse so of course it was gay and trying to convert 2-year olds.

“As a lesbian mom, I just thought that was so ridiculous,” I held forth, making a conscious effort to come out to the wee sprat, who looked very non-binary and was closer to 12 than 6. They appeared to take this in stride, and we chatted a bit more, with them telling me about the person who played the Sun Baby, who is now the parent of a toddler.

In all, I tried to speak to each of the young artists, complimenting or asking questions about their wares whether or not I bought something. I walked out feeling like I had contributed positively and even queerly to the entire endeavor. Feeling pretty good about myself.

When I got home, I realized that my fly was undone. I mean, UNDONE!

You have to laugh. I mean, after you have a moment of severe embarrassment, imagining one of the young people asking another of the young people, “Did that lady with the purple mask come to your table?” (I was the only person with a mask in the entire place) and the other young person saying, “Yeah, and her fly was totally unzipped – she was SO WEIRD!! She told me the Teletubbies were gay!”

But sweet, tubby, bonny, darling queer femme sisters o’mine, we femmes come in all kinds of shapes and sizes and states of dress. We don’t have to be well-groomed to be out, we are even allowed to have wardrobe failures and toilet paper on our shoe and green stuff in our teeth and boogies in our noses. Why? BECAUSE WE’RE HUMAN! And we do not have to be perfect to represent.

The important thing is that children saw a random queer adult who was jolly, purchasing their art, and chatting with them about art and other important Teletubbie subjects.

As embarrassed as I might be about the fly situation, I’m going to focus on the above and not the unzipped.

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”) And…as I go through life life life, I will post as I am able, Mabel.