Having just returned from big sky high and dry utterly gorgeous Taos, New Mexico to extremely humid, green and wet New England, I’m extremely aware of the weather. My body responds to the shifts in climate in so many ways. For example in New Mexico, my joints were eased to the point where I even found myself jogging a bit on my early morning walks, glorifying in the shadow of Mount Taos and her sisters. Back East, I’m logy and my joints protest – even sitting here at my desk can crick me up but quick. In both places, if I pay attention, I can adjust my activities to accommodate my body’s needs so that I feel at home.
My mother-in-law, who has been vacationing in Taos for over 20 years, told us a story about something that happened when she was staying in a B&B one winter. The unpredictable and wild snowy weather had made it impossible to travel, so folks in the B&B were stuck in town. One upset guest, a middle-aged white man, stormed up to the owner of the B&B and demanded that she direct him to a place where things in nature were more to his liking. She regarded him calmly, and perhaps with some compassion, and replied in even tones, “This is the weather we’re having.”
My mother-in-law also told a story about friends of hers who retired from San Antonio to a small town in North Carolina and proceeded to foul their new nest by presuming that their big city experience and know-how would be welcomed with open arms by the local yokels. Predictably, they were unable to make a comfortable home for themselves in that community. Talk about not paying attention to the weather!
Although I use the term “queer community” because it’s a handy shortcut, I think we queers are pretty far from recognizing, learning from, delighting in, and having each other’s backs. Queer weather differs immensely depending on your locale or your feed, and not enough of us are paying attention to each other and to the same basic information. But femmes can help encourage a sea change. Observing, assessing, bringing strengths to bear, according for weaknesses – we femme weather girls are adept at using these skills to get at the heart of things. We know or intuit that the weather, natural or human, is caused by and is a part of much larger systems, and thus is never targeting individuals, although individuals certainly could be and often are in direct personal danger if they ignore the weather around them. Everywhere, I see queer femmes gifted with the ability to revel in rainbows, dance between raindrops, and batten down the hatches when we recognize the signs of an impending hurricane.
I often hear people thanking their lucky stars that they live in states or cities where they feel relatively safe to be queer, with all the implied scorn and fear for places where the weather is very different. But different kinds of weather bring out different kinds of survival skills, and wonderfully different kinds of joys and triumphs.
Sending love and admiration to femmes all over the world, in all kinds of weather. Your dedication to queer joy and to queer reality; your fortitude and creativity; your great and loving spirits inspire me and keep me honest.
I honor you today.
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.”)
The Total Femme 