A little intellectual rigour for the Bank Holiday for you with this fantastic podcast on femme identity and how that is received in society. I listened to it today while doing some washing up and I’m sure there can’t be that many people who’ve had a personal breakthrough while washing a mug but this did that for me.
I think I’ve mentioned before that I considered myself straight before I met my Master and Princess and he often teases me how well I’ve taken to lesbianism. I had quite honestly never questioned the gender of the people I wanted to fuck before I met Princess and so much of queerness seems to be about that sense of not knowing who you were. So if I’d never doubted my love of dick, I must be straight right?
But I have from as long as I remember agonised over my identity of how I come across to people. Instinctually from early childhood I loved traditionally feminine things like make up but hated wearing the ‘good frocks’ and patent shoes I was put in for the equivalent of Sunday best.
My favourite outfit as a five year old was a pair of knickerbockers and I wanted to combine the best bits of tomboyishness like running around or being around horses with painting my nails. At eighteen I chopped all my hair off and it felt like finding myself even though I did it so I could fuck my (very handsome) hairdresser. I’ve never grown it out again in the next two decades.
80% of me loved standing out by never shaking that girly-tomboy mix off with my shaved head, perfect painted nails, eyeliner to next week, sluttiness and pairs of shorts. But the other 20% felt like I was failing at being a woman.
‘Real’ women had long blonde hair and wore knee length skirts and red lipstick and ‘no make up’ make up that looked natural. They wore high heels and floral prints and dated suitable men. And they were rewarded for it by not catcalled all the time in the street or told they were beautiful and grown up.
Any time I tried to be more like those women, I felt miserable as sin and simply unable to do it. Without my eyeliner I felt like a wall of bare plaster. When I wore heels, they were never kitten heels (I once left a pair in a cab in Glasgow no less) but four inch high gold knee boots and my skirts barely grazed my arse.
I had a job dressing other women to look ‘nice’ and stereotypically feminine and gave up it up to teach men how to wear make up, work on a gay fetish magazine and spend my time with drag queens. I just assumed I was very bad at being a grown up and having responsibilities.
And then listening to that podcast I realised that I just didn’t know I was femme and without knowing about the queer identity of femmeness, I couldn’t even think about not being straight. Slow learner as per usual.
I’d been fascinated by women for years in their femmeness and femininity and thought it was just their outfits I liked but I realised that all the women I feel some kind of pull towards are tend to me those femme women (and most of my male friends tend to be very in touch with their feminine side.)
I love to look at women with short boyish hair with heavy make up or wearing a suit with nothing underneath. I like men in tights and eyeliner. The two tie together and this identity I couldn’t outrun but felt wasn’t ‘normal’ linked the two. And finally hearing that validation of femme on that podcast made my lack of straightness make more sense than fucking Princess does in some ways.
It might be a weird way to reassess yourself but it made even more sense when I spent the evening having dinner with my Master and Princess and watching ‘But I’m a Cheerleader‘ and discovering all those close intense female friendships I had until now lacked one thing. And it wasn’t my abandoned vegetarianism…