Meditations for Queer Femmes – Game Girls

            This afternoon when I called over to the Memory Care to talk to my mom, she sounded a bit flustered. I asked what was going on, and she said, “The lunch situation is not the best situation.” It took her a long time to get out the details, and I’m still not sure I understand exactly what happened to make her say that, but basically, like all of us, she’s dealing with other people. And once she finally managed to get some words out, she had a lot to say.

            “They want to be in control,” she said. I sympathized.

            “It’s all right in the way I can take hold of it,” she told me reassuringly (she doesn’t want me to worry). “I can more or less do the words, the things that I have to keep going. I can manage it, but it is a little on the difficult end. It is a bit of a drag, but I’ve managed it so far.”

            “Yeah, Mom, we just have to keep going, don’t we?”

            “That’s the only thing I can do, and I’ve done it so far. It’s the only thing you can do if you’re going to get through the things you need to. Some of the people are mostly the good part of what happens. There are people who are very good hearted.”

            Recently, a friend of the family told me, “Your mom has always been a very game girl,” and went on to tell me how this very upright and honorable university professor shocked her colleagues and students by demanding quarters and rushing off to the slot machines during a professional conference held in Las Vegas. You’ve got to try and fit in with local customs! That is certainly something she always taught me. At 90, with vascular dementia making it more and more difficult for her to express herself, she is still a game girl. Still working hard to fit in with local customs, be polite and not cause a ruckus. Find the good parts of where life has taken her.

            Dearies, precious hearts, my buttercups, I know that you are also game girls, finding love and humor and joy in and between the scary, sad, difficult, and dreary places your lives have taken you. I see it in the swing of your hips, your giggles, your songs, your kisses and hugs. I see it in our femme community of healers and lovers and artists and sisters and beloveds.

            Today, take hold of it, be aware of it, how you manage and move through and forward and beyond.

            Your neighbors, your family, your co-workers, the people you pass on the street, they are all – we are all – so much the better for your sweet, generous, big and fabulous femme hearts.

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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Pingy-Dingy Wednesday – Great Plains Action Society and International Day of the World’s Indigenous People

I am grateful to Great Plains Action Society – Resist & Indigenize – for alerting me to the International Day of the World’s Indigenous People and “the important role that women and femme folks play in the functioning of Indigenous communities worldwide–even with the astonishingly high rates of colonial oppression and violence they face.”

I am grateful to Great Plains Action Soceity for their for their important healing work. Their campaigns include Frontline Land Defense, Food Sovereignty, and Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives, among others.

Here is their Mission Statement:

Great Plains Action Society addresses the trauma Indigenous Peoples and our Earth have faced and works to prevent further colonial-capitalist violence through education, direct action, cultural revival, mutual aid, and political change.

I’m a typewriter whompin’, card catalogue lovin’ white girl from back in the day, and I yearn for a time before the covers of trade paperbacks were all squidgy, so you can imagine that I don’t actually understand what a pingback is. I do know that it can in some way be part of spreading the love, and since that’s what I’m all about at The Total Femme… every Wednesday, I pay homage to the laughter and inspiration to be had elsewhere online. If you have a favorite, let me know and I’ll post it! Write to me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Femme Friday – Kai Cheng Thom, Confabulous!

At the Boston Dyke March this year, along with marching with the Urvis in honor of Urvashi Vaid, I handed out fliers for this very blog. “Do you identify as femme?” the fliers asked, with the invitation to come on over to my place and talk about what femme means for you, share your femme story.

            For the most part, even if the person did not identify as femme, they were polite and appeared to be perfectly ok with me drumming up femme community. The people who did identify as femme were thrilled, tucking the flier away in bras or pockets, happy to be seen. Only once did someone act offended when I asked my question, “Do you identify as femme?”

            “Sometimes!” they grumped, wrinkling up their nose. Was my question offensive? Because I looked at them and made certain assumptions? Maybe so. Maybe it was also my age and them making assumptions about me and what femme means to me, like maybe I’m anti-trans or otherwise not up with the changing times.

            Femme does mean a certain thing to me, and perhaps back in the day when I was just discovering my own precious femme identity, I was a bit snobby and judgemental of other kinds of femmes. Sometimes you need to hang on to your identity that way when it first is gifted to you. Now, however, I am secure in my own femme, and am so curious and excited to hear about other kinds of femme, what femme means to other people, how femme takes them and where it takes them.

            Kai Cheng Thom also wants to hear stories. Dangerous stories. “I wanted something kick-ass and intense,” she writes in the first chapter of Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl’s Confabulous Memoir, “with hot sex and gang violence and maybe zombies and lots of magic.”

            This book has been on my TBR stack for just a few, and I am using this post to pour love on it and jumpstart myself. The first chapter made me weepy and a bit falling in love, so I’m going to grab the bookmark a friend just gave me – FUCK OFF, I’M READING! – and get down to it. Signing off and wishing you, also, a weekend of delicious, salacious, and dangerous stories!

Deep gratitude to Kai Cheng Thom for her dangerous stories and huge heart. Thank you for writing what needs to be written and adding to the brilliant bad-ass tapestry of femme stories. Thank you for bringing so much fiery and healing fierce femme love into the world.

Every Friday, I showcase a queer femme goddess. I want to feature you! Write to me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com and let me shine a spotlight on your beautiful, unique, femmelife! If you’ve written a femme story or poem or song, oh, please let me post it!

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on August 5, 2022 at 9:10 AM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Bear, Lift, Fly

So much loss. So much grief. On micro and macro levels, here right at home and all over the world.

I can sink some days in sadness. Sadness I must bear.

The other day, an article about how to travel more comfortably came across my desk. Just a little piece of fluffy filler, but it had such an excited vibe to it and was so hopeful: we can go places again! One suggestion the article enthusiastically offered to make getting from here to there a little less painful was to not carry heavy shit.

Ha! Don’t carry heavy shit! That simple yet quite tricky suggestion reminded me of the book title Buddhist teacher Sylvia Boorstein joked about when I saw her speak, It’s Easier Than You Think; It’s Harder Than You Can Possibly Imagine.

Don’t carry heavy shit.

Well, I am carrying heavy shit. We all are. So that’s not an option, really, but what about finding ways to bear it? Redistribute the weight, bear up, lift?

What if there’s a way to release weight elsewhere to make the heavy shit we have to carry feel just that smallest bit lighter?

I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night a lot lately. We’ve just gotten the inside of the house painted, so everything had to be moved out and moved back. There’s so much energy passing through, so many memories, many of them incredibly painful. So much we’re carrying around.

Plus, I have so much stuff! Books, records, cds, chotchkes. I adore collections and I have some really nice ones, believe you me! I love them so much, and it’s so satisfying to pet them and coo to them, oh, you lovely bookshelf of incredibly interesting and diverse social justice books you. You darlings!

Still. All my sweet collections require energy from me for their housing, their upkeep. They themselves also house various kinds of grief, like paths not taken, family fuck ups, reminders of pain. Lately I think they’re less keeping me company and lifting me up as draining me.

I want to send them back out into the universe where someone might need them more than I do, need them like I did when I found them, but it’s hard to let them go. I’m lucky, though, because with just a little bit of up-front work, I can find good homes for them. Womencrafts in Provincetown for my feminist book collection and LexPride’s library in Lexington for queer books, for example. I loved and enjoyed them when I read them, or fondled them after bringing them home from a yard sale, or whatever it may be. That love and enjoyment is part of me now. And I have other things I’d like to be doing that require my increasingly limited energy. I have books of my own to write!

Brilliant diamond lovelies, you and I are carrying such a lot. There is so much in this mortal world that we hold on our shoulders, in our hearts. That is to be human. That is to be alive right now. But today I’m asking you, what can you put down to make that burden a bit easier to bear? Where can you allow some lift in your lives?

And, oh, my sparkling queer femme sisters, oh! What might you find yourselves doing once your burdens are less weighty? What wonders might redistributing the load make room for?

Where will your travels take you now?

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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on August 1, 2022 at 4:06 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Pingy-Dingy Wednesday – Fundraiser for Womencrafts

This space, this beautiful, truly welcoming and affirming and loving space, so wisely guided by Michelle who holds the history both in love and in understanding of where we can move forward with more accountability, is such an incredibly important part of our queer community.

The building, where the shop occupies the first floor and Michelle and her sweetie occupy the second, is up for sale. If you are able, if you have ever been in the store and felt the love, please donate whatever you can. Every little bit will help keep Womencrafts thriving there on Commercial Street in Provincetown, always at the center of organizing, protesting, celebrating, spreading queer joy.

I’ve sat on the steps there so many times, I’ve given readings there, bought books, met friends, had conversations about the things that matter, and so so so so much more. I love this place. I love Michelle. So many women- and lesbian-owned businesses in Provincetown have disappeared. Let’s rally round so that Womencrafts stays open and healthy for decades to come!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-womencrafts

I’m a typewriter whompin’, card catalogue lovin’ white girl from back in the day, and I yearn for a time before the covers of trade paperbacks were all squidgy, so you can imagine that I don’t actually understand what a pingback is. I do know that it can in some way be part of spreading the love, and since that’s what I’m all about at The Total Femme… every Wednesday, I pay homage to the laughter and inspiration to be had elsewhere online. If you have a favorite, let me know and I’ll post it! Write to me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on July 6, 2022 at 7:32 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Femme Friday – Literary Femmes: Graciela from the short story “Glamour” by Anna-Marie McLemore

            In California, 1923, Graciela Morena wants to be a movie star so badly that she uses color glamour to make herself appear white and she changes her name to Grace Moran. When she runs into a boy from her past, Sawyer, she begins to re-examine and recast her dreams.

            “In the midst of oppression,” writes Anna-Marie McLemore in their Author’s Notes, “seeing the magical even through the tragic, the unjust, the heartbreaking, is a way of survival, for people, for communities, for cultures. Our spirits depend on not overlooking that which might be dismissed or ignored.”

Deep gratitude to Anna-Marie for dreaming Graciela into the Great Femme Universe. Thank you for giving me permission to honor her here as a femme, although she might not have had that language for herself. Her love and understanding of Sawyer, a transboy (also not the language he would have had) is tender and filled with such gorgeous possibility. The love Graciela begins to center on herself is a gift and inspiration to all femmes everywhere. Thank you for giving us this glimpse of a magical femme past, inspiring our present and our future.

            “So there’s nothing you want?” she asked

            He came toward her, so slowly he did not limp. “I didn’t say that.”

            He slid his hand onto the back of her neck and kissed her. He tasted like the honey and first-harvest apricots they’d eaten after dinner. Amber sugar. Fireweed. It made her bite his lower lip just hard enough that the sound he made could have been either pain or him asking her to do it again.

            For a second, that taste faded away, leaving behind the bitter tang of brick wine. For a second they were back on that brocade fainting couch, and she was flinching under the feeling that one more kiss would break down the girl she’d given everything to be.

            But this was not some borrowed green room. This was the night air threading through her family’s almond trees. She was not laced into some costume corset, a petticoat rough against her legs. She wore a dress made by her mother, the skirt smooth as poured cream.

            This was not some set where she had to stuff herself into a girl called Grace Moran.

            There was as much room for Sawyer and Graciela as the whole shimmering sky.

                                                –Anna-Marie McLemore, “Glamour”

The Radical Element: 12 Stories of Daredevils, Debutantes and Other Dauntless Girls, edited by Jessica Spotswood, Candlewick Press, 2018

P.S. We are so lucky, because Anna-Marie has written so many gorgeous books! Go forth and read her novels: The Weight of Feathers, Blanca & Roja, Dark and Deepest Red, Lake Lore, The Mirror Season, Wild Beauty, Miss Meteor, Self-Made Boys, and When the Moon Was Ours. Order them from Womencrafts!

Every Friday, I showcase a queer femme goddess. I want to feature you! Write to me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com and let me shine a spotlight on your beautiful, unique, femmelife! If you’ve written a femme story or poem or song, oh, please let me post it!

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Meditations for Queer Femmes – That Ol’ Usta Be

“I miss the way things used to be,” a friend told me last time we spoke.

Sweet my fragrant femme blossoms, don’t we know just exactly what she means? So much has changed. So much is cattywampus and fractured and sinister and downright shitty just about now. Old coping skills have gone up in smoke and new coping skills are uncomfortable and unwieldy. I miss so many things from pre-pandemic times, so many things that are over, Rover. You know, you know, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

Last night, my 23-year old hied him off and out of town. After several years of trying, he is finally launched on his travel adventure: Thailand for ten days, and then to Japan to spend a year learning Japanese.

Before he left, we went to see my 90-year old mom together. She kept dozing off, but when she was awake, she was pretty front and center. “That’s quite strenuous!” she said, as he told her about his plans. “That’s amazing!”

Then he and I had lunch and went over details together (really, he was all set, but he generously shared with me because he knew how much I’ve been enjoying seeing him get ready for his adventure). I bought him some snacks for the airplane and hugged him tight, tight, tight, saying, “Aishiteru! Aishiteru!” which is I love you in Japanese. He was flying Qatar airlines, so was modestly dressed in slightly-too-small slacks and button-down shirt. I will miss being in the presence of those knobbly wrists and ankles!

But it wouldn’t be good if he stayed here. He has to go do his thing. Even if the world is so incredibly changed since I hied me off on my travel adventures when I was his age. I just got a text from him that he landed in Doha. My parents were lucky if they heard from me a week after I’d left – I think I was supposed to call when I landed, but sometimes I forgot. I don’t think the difference is one way or another, good or bad. It just is. Ok, I’m lying. I do miss the old days. But there’s missing and there’s pining away into misery.

Darlings, I know you miss so many things. From the before, from the coulda-been, from the wish-it-was. Circumstances press down on us. We feel unmoored, to say the least. But change, you know. It’s like breath. It’s life. Sweetness and loss. Love and grief. Oh, all of it!

All that you touch, you change.

All that you change, changes you.

The only lasting truth is change.

God is change.

Octavia Butler’s words hang above my desk on a postcard from Southerners On New Ground. Whatever God is for you, sister queer femmes, there is comfort in Octavia’s wisdom. Around and around, on and on, we move through this beautiful day, with the wind and the sun and the blue jays yelling at the squirrels.

Rest in change. It sounds impossible! But I think we do it every day. Next, my darlings.

Next.

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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on June 20, 2022 at 12:55 PM  Comments (2)  
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Pingy-Dingy Wednesday – Nonprofit AF

Vu over at Nonprofit AF always has relevant and thoughtful things to say, and this post in particular has my admiration and respect. I really appreciate how Vu uses his own past behavior to talk about what not to do, modeling growth and action. I never realized how much alcohol is a part of just about everything until, like Vu, I became aware of the addiction and alcoholism of a family member. When an event is centered around drinking, it is at the very least, disconcerting for me, and often extremely painful.

Dearest Vu, you get one pingy-dingy! Thank you for bringing up this extremely important topic, and for getting the ball rolling for continued conversation and community support.

I’m a typewriter whompin’, card catalogue lovin’ white girl from back in the day, and I yearn for a time before the covers of trade paperbacks were all squidgy, so you can imagine that I don’t actually understand what a pingback is. I do know that it can in some way be part of spreading the love, and since that’s what I’m all about at The Total Femme… every Wednesday, I pay homage to the laughter and inspiration to be had elsewhere online. If you have a favorite, let me know and I’ll post it! Write to me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Meditations for Queer Femmes – Keep That Queer Femme Energy Comin’!

Friday night, Tex and I went to the Dyke March. Saturday afternoon we had a little neighborhood Pride gathering in our driveway. Yesterday, we went to our town’s Pride event on the grounds of Town Hall.

At the Dyke March, we marched with the Urvies, holding signs with photos of Urvashi Vaid (1958-2022) and chanting things like:

Never straight! Always curvy! We are marching for our Urvi!

and

We’re dykes! Don’t touch us! We’ll kill you!

and

2, 4, 6, 8! Right wing assholes, stop the hate!

My sign said: Crush White Supremacy on one side, and Fuck SCOTUS on the other.

Being with the Urvies, talking with younger folx to let them know who Urvashi was, shouting out our anger, grief, and community connection with other dykes was deeply, deeply satisfying.

In our driveway on Saturday neighborhood queers of all ages and situations mingled and chatted. I organized an extremely ad hoc mini-Pride parade for the kids – one mom decorated her daughter’s bike handles with festive rainbow socks. A bit chaotic, as these events always are, we were still able to chit chat and get to know each other just that much better. It was chill, and sweet, and slightly chaotic (there were tears and scraped knees from some of the younger set). I loved it.

Yesterday, groups of rainbowed out middle schoolers sat together on the grass, many wearing various flags as capes. A young lesbian, member of the high school Gender/Sexuality Alliance walked around hanging out rainbow beads to anyone who needed some. Town officials, including the chief of police, select board members, and commissioners from the Rainbow Commission read the 2016 proclamation announcing the creation of the LGBTQIA+ Rainbow Commission. I hugged friends and colleagues I hadn’t seen in a couple of years and chatted with a few of the kids. I really miss chatting with queer kids, so my soul was fed.

There was no Pride in Boston this year, which, according to Joan Ilacqua in an opinion piece earlier this month might be a good thing, as it gives us time as a community to reassess what our needs are and to address them. As Ilacqua says, “[o]ur community’s resilience and joy are some of its defining features and part of its greatest strength”.  

I gathered strength from the three Pride events this weekend. Motivated by my love of queers, I’ve done my most fulfilling work, from organizing in my town (I was so proud to be the Rainbow Commission’s first chair, for example) to the writing I’m doing now. It’s the spark that keeps me going, it’s the most essential part of who I am.

You, beauties. Your spark, your queer femme joy, your strength in the face of it all. Not just for Pride month. Not just for these joyous gatherings, but always, always. What can you do every fucking day to plug in to that source of queer abundance? What do you do? Large and small, you gather it in and then you give it back out. We need each other. We need you.

Your queer femme joy is without compare.

I love you.

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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on June 13, 2022 at 10:13 AM  Comments (2)  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Not Gunna

Aren’t there days when you just feel like you’re not gunna? I mean, where you’re up against this responsibility and that responsibility and this email and that text and something you forgot, something you’ve been meaning to do, someone who wants something, a promise you made but that keeps getting put on the back burner, the vacuuming undone, the greens you bought a week ago waving limply at you every time you open the fridge, you know, things like that, and you keep saying stubbornly, “I’m not gunna.”

It’s not that you aren’t a responsible person. It’s not that you don’t get the job done when the job needs to be done. It’s just that sometimes you need a little moment of fiery fuck you. Of giving it all the finger for just a few fine moments. Or to be a little less potty-mouthed, to turn some of that responsibility-taking-care-of energy in on yourself, to give yourself a sweet surrounding of respite. There’s so much damn stuff out there (and in here) that we actually can’t manage, that is unmanageable, at least by one sole femme, no matter how determined, no matter how principled, no matter how hard working. For me, that stuff can pile onto the stuff I do have control over and topple me but good. If I don’t give myself the medicine of a few not gunnas on a regular basis, that is.

I might not gunna cook today.

Not gunna call my mom.

Not gunna do the laundry.

Those aren’t all that hard, since we’ve got leftovers; I saw my mom yesterday and she’s doing great and is benefiting from time for herself getting used to the new facility she’s in; and I still have clean clothes.

Harder are things like I’m not gunna fret about all that I can’t change, from near and from far; I’m not gunna lose myself in a book when I’ve got a writing deadline coming up; I’m not gunna give myself a hard time about all those other not gunnas…

My magical and marvelous femme sisters, let us try today to not gunna the cold pricklies that can sometimes swarm us.

Today, let our not gunnas be generative, warmfuzzy and comforting, rejuvinating and restful.

Let us allow ourselves some not gunnas that contribute, in the end, to all the wonderful gunnas that we have ever and always inside.

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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. 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.

Published in: on June 6, 2022 at 10:43 AM  Leave a Comment  
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