The Total Femme

I had a doctor’s appointment last week, one that was making me incredibly anxious. I have doctor PTSD certainly from having cancer, but also, I think, stemming from having had to be in the hospital quite a bit when I was a toddler. Along with the PTSD I almost always am on guard for homophobia, sexism, and, as the years go on, ageism. I can get myself in a right twist about having to see the doctor, even to the point of going into some version of a fugue state that makes it hard to communicate, ask questions, retain answers.

Years ago, at a Creating Change conference, I attended a Radical Faerie workshop about healing, where we all received a small plastic bottle of bubbles. The bubbles had been magicked, and we were told we could use them to protect us when we were about to go into a dangerous or scary place, or even just when we needed a lift from our own or the world’s difficulties.

Just as I was about to leave for the doctor’s appointment, I remembered my bubbles, but couldn’t remember where I’d put them.

Tex said, “I’ll give you butch bubbles of protection.” Taking my hands, she asked me to imagine all the butches in my life who love me, who wish me well, who hold me – my whole and gorgeous femme self – and want me to be well and happy. I closed my eyes and there they all were: dear old friends, who have been there for so many difficult and happy times in my life; newer friends bringing joy and goofiness; the shy butch who approached me after a reading and thanked me for writing a story so close to hys heart; butches I’ve never met, but who enrich my femme universe with their art and existence, and of course, my own sweet butch husband standing right in front of me. I breathed. My shoulders relaxed. My heart slowed to a more steady beat.

I left the house fortified and calm. For once, I was able to totally be myself sitting in that stuffy little room with the doctor, myself and honest, asking for help and listening to the answer.

Tex’s loving butch bubbles of protection helped me remember that my queer community is always there for me to tune into so that I can ground myself, remember myself, honor myself. That same beautiful week, I was in touch with three wonderful femmes, sparkling, vibrant, filled with life. We none of us live in the same town, and one of them I’ve never even met in person, but together we radiate and concentrate a beautiful queer femme energy that makes us stronger and wiser. That helps make us more able to face dangers and disappointments with clarity and resiliance.

Today, my petals, my beamish beauties, be still for just a few moments and breathe in the support of your queer community, the people for whom you shine and who shine for you. Remember what it feels like when your shoulders relax and you know that you are seen and appreciated and loved for being your exact and wonderful own very own queer femme self.

Rest a moment in those bubbles of protection, my queer femme sisters.

Rest and be adored.

Rest and gather courage to carry on.

P.S. I have bubbles! If you, too, would like some actual bubbles of protection, email me with your address, and I will send them to you! thetotalfemme@gmail.com

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.

Since 2016, I here at The Total Femme have done my best to post thrice a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy Dingy on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on you know when. I’m pulling back the reins now, darlings, and going down to once a week, this Meditation. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from you. Send me your poetry, your musings, your art, your wonderful you, and I will love you and hold you and feature you right here. So let me hear from you! thetotalfemme@gmail.com. And stop by on Mondays for a bit of sacred femme space.