We haven’t had a Pretty Lady post around here in awhile, so here’s some beauty to start your Friday off right!

Who: Frida Kahlo

Why she’s beautiful inside and out: Frida was an incredible painter, most known for her self-portraits and surrealistic symbolism. She had a tough life; a traffic accident when she was a teenager left her with permanent injuries that caused her great pain and eventually put her in a wheel chair. It was while she was bedridden after this accident that Frida began to paint.

Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird

Although married to a man, painter Diego Rivera, Frida was bisexual and had numerous affairs with women, including Josephine Baker.

I love Frida because of her passion for her art, and her unabashed exploration of female sexuality and power. Also, the woman wasn’t afraid to wear a suit, and she rocked some serious facial hair. Many of her paintings grapple with gender issues. (When I taught an art class to 3-5th graders, I used Frida as an artist to emulate when they were working on self-portraits. Unfortunately they couldn’t get past her mustache to pay any attention to the lesson, which I think says a lot about the age at which gender roles are so firmly ingrained in the minds of kids, as well as the degree to which Frida broke down gender barriers by not conforming to expectations of the feminine.)

If you haven’t seen it, I recommend the Salma Hayek film Frida for more information about her life (as well as a really enjoyable, though heart-breaking, movie experience.)

Here, watch a lesbian tango scene from the movie:

What do you think of today’s Pretty Lady?

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Hi everyone! Let’s talk about being femme in a gay bar, shall we?

So you’re all dolled up, you’ve planned ahead for the perspiration and pain involved in dancing in sky high heels, and you’ve managed to find a gay bar hosting a lesbian night. (None of these things are easy.)

You walk in, and the music may as well screech to a halt – you’re the only femme in the room, and there’s a skeptical scowl on the face of every lesbian there.

Queer spaces are few and hard to come by; queer women-centered spaces are even more elusive. So I understand the cynicism that may be directed at a woman who appears straight in a gay bar. Every other club in town is a “straight club,” so I sympathize with the instinctual sense of infiltration that may be felt by the gay community when a straight person enters our space. (Not that I necessarily agree with it; I mean, eventually the goal is for everyone to be able to hang out in the same space without killing each other, right?)

But the thing is, queer femmes aren’t straight. And that assumption coming from my own lesbian community hurts me more than the thousands of heterosexual folks I meet in my daily life that make the same inference.

Shouldn’t a gay bar be the one place in the world where you are assumed queer until proven straight?

Like innocent until proven guilty, but gayer

But, as I’ve said before, I’m not going to change how I dress or present myself to be more recognizable. For one thing, that’s not fair. Also, I’ve tried it, and I didn’t feel like myself. It’s hard to have fun when you aren’t being who you are (as any closeted person can tell you). Lastly, there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my lipstick. (Just you try to take it away. Go on, I dare you.)

So, short of wrapping myself in a rainbow flag, I’m not sure how to communicate my queerness to other lesbians in a gay bar. But I think it’s time to broaden perceptions of what a lesbian looks like.

What are your experiences of being femme in a gay bar? Do you have any solutions for combating femme invisibility within queer spaces? Have you ever presented more masculinely in a gay bar to feel more comfortable?

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One of the first things I notice on a girl is her eyebrows. Weird? Maybe. But if the eyes are the windows of the soul, then the eyebrows are the drapes – and everyone knows a good window treatment goes a long way.

So what makes a great eyebrow? Well, it depends what you’re going for. I made this timeline for you, so you can see all of the 20th century styles and pick your favorite!

What’s your favorite decade of eyebrow style? How do you like to wear yours?

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So Hurricane Irene didn’t turn out as bad as anticipated, and a lot of people have been getting pretty snarky about all the preparation being for nothing. But as the death toll climbs to 20 people, I think now would be a good time to show a little gratitude for being alive, and it is in this spirit that I offer the poem below.

“What the Living Do,” the title poem of a book by the same name, was written by American poet Marie Howe in 1998. The poem, and the collection as a whole, served as an elegy to her brother John who passed away of AIDS in 1989 and is referenced in the poem.

Marie Howe

For me, this poem is a reminder to see the beauty in the everyday moments – the basic comings and goings of errands and necessities, chores and minor catastrophes – because these minutes and hours add up to the days of one’s life. There are so many things in this world to want, but sometimes just being alive is enough.

*****************

“What the Living Do”

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days,
some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but it smells dangerous, and
the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is
the everyday we spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep headstrong blue, and the sunlight
pours through

the open living room windows because the heat’s on too high in
here, and I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the
street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: this is what the living do. And yesterday,
hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down
my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This
is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called
that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the
winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss – we want more
and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of
myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a
cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat
that I’m speechless:
I am living, I remember you.

Marie Howe

*****************

What did you think?

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Are you safe and dry? Do you have electricity? So far we’ve made it out okay, but 12,700 households in our area are without power. Guess we just got really lucky!

It’s a cozy evening now and a perfect time to catch up on last week’s The Slope episode! (Missed episode 2? Click here.) In this installment, as detailed on the show’s website, “you’ll witness Desiree attempting to talk Ingrid out of her externalized transphobia as the couple overload on caffeine at Gorilla Coffee.”
 

The tables have turned in this episode, haven’t they? It’s funny because in the past, Desiree has been the character that comes off as unintentionally mean (“Don’t you think they might be confusing you for a twink?”), and Ingrid is very kumbaya and politically correct. Ingrid’s transphobia, then, is even more unexpected because it was not in any way foreshadowed by the earlier episodes.

Also, I thought it was ironic that Desiree kept saying “my trans friend,” as if she had to constantly label him as such. It seems both characters have some transphobic tendencies. As the description of the show states:

Ingrid and Desiree continue to hash out a power dynamic that ends up making them look homophobic, superficial and ultimately, perfect for one another.

Pretty accurate, right? What did you think?

Also is it sad that I knew she was talking about The Real L Word within the first five seconds? How long did it take you?

Episode 4 comes out tomorrow. I’m a week late with Episode 3, but at least now you only have to wait a day before the next one!

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I thought in the face of a natural disaster it might be nice to engage in some classic escapism, so let’s talk television! And instead of complaining about the pitiful representation of LGBT women, (like I usually do), we’re going to think positive and talk about the best lesbian on teevee right now:

Emily Fields of Pretty Little Liars.

(Don’t worry if you haven’t seen the show. There are no prerequisites, you don’t even have to take notes! I’m going to explain why she’s perfect, and then maybe you will want to watch. I mean… look at her.)

Now, there are a host of pitfalls into which writers can and do stumble when creating a lesbian character, such as making her fall for a guy, having her make out for the pleasure of a male audience, making her a murderer, or having her killed, to name a few. But – so far, at least – Emily hasn’t been subject to any of those afflictions.

She’s had a coming out experience that was sensitively and realistically portrayed. Her mother freaked out, but her father took it pretty well, and all in all, Emily stood her ground and came out looking like a champ. Emily’s mother has since come around, providing an example for parents watching (this is abc family after all) that even if your initial reaction was “Oh my god, NO!” in time you can accept your child because you love her. (Incidentally, Emily’s coming out experience mirrors my own almost to a tee.)

coming out to Mom - everyone's favorite thing

Emily’s appearance has also not changed since she came out. No stereotypical baby-dyke attire, no rainbows, just Emily being Emily, except now she is gay. If we are talking about Emily the character as though she were a real person, I think that shows tremendous fortitude and acceptance of herself. It’s also providing a little visibility for us feminine lesbians. I appreciate that no one on the show has ever doubted Emily’s sexuality after she came out.

I can’t help but wonder, however, if Emily is being portrayed as a femme lesbian because that is more comfortable for mainstream viewers; (back to the case of femme being the “acceptable” lesbian). Though this is probably the case, kudos to abc family for showing some diversity of lesbian representation during a party in a recent episode:

Pretty Little Liars is getting something else right too. Often when characters come out on television, they are never given a love interest, so that even though the character has been declared gay, no one has to actually watch them be with someone of the same sex. (Because that’s gross.) It’s safer, and the networks probably get a few less calls from the Florida Family Association, but it isn’t realistic. It’s not fair either, especially when every other character has a vibrant love life except the gay one.

Emily, on the other hand, has had the most love interests of any of the other stars of the show, and they are all beautiful lesbians like herself:

Three love interests in a year of being out?? I wish I went to high school with Emily! Also, Pretty Little Liars hasn’t shied away from showing the girls kissing, which, for abc family, is downright fearless.

Of the four central characters, Emily has by far the most integrity of the group. She’s honest, kind, sweet, and a star athlete. She’s completely comfortable with her sexuality now; it’s become a non-issue, which is pretty impressive for a 17-year-old (straight or gay). I really appreciate the way Pretty Little Liars has provided a lesbian character who is flourishing and not floundering.

Now if “A” would just leave Emily alone, she could move on with her life, go to Smith College, and party at Dinah Shore. She’s a swimmer – c’mon, you know she’ll love the pool party.

All this is to say, well done abc family, Pretty Little Liars, and Shay Mitchell. Keep up the good work. We’re all rooting for you.

Are you watching Pretty Little Liars? Is Emily your favorite? Who do you think A is??

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It’s a new Femme on a Mission vlog, in which I discuss coming out at work. Check it out!

What are your out at work stories? I want to hear the best and the worst!

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*********************

My dear butches,

I’ve always been drawn to you. As a little girl, crushing on my elementary school gym teacher, I knew something about you was special.

I grew up entranced by the songs of the Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, and k.d. lang. Not butches all of them, but even then – before my body was grown enough to know what it craved – even then, I felt your pull.

But I must confess, dear butches, that my attraction to you – to your warmth, your strength, your presence – frightened me. It could not be denied. And though I loved you, I also knew, even in the earliest years of my youth, that there was something “other” about you, too.

My parents would often say, “There’s two of them,” when you walked by with your lover. Them. So I grew to think of you as a foreigner, outside the “us” of my family. I could never be like you, I thought; I could never be a them.

So as I grew, and it pains me to tell you this, I actively othered you. I used “butch” as an adjective, and a derogatory one at that. Fearing that my similarities with you, my attraction to you, could be seen on the surface, I distanced myself. I even had a little phrase I would say, in a deep mocking voice (how ashamed I am now!) when I would try on an article of clothing that felt too masculine for me. I would say, “This is a little much butch,” pronouncing “much” with a long u sound so it rhymed with butch. I merely had to say these words – “too mu(t)ch butch” – and my sister and mother would go into fits of laughter. That laughter was at you. I am so sorry. So very, very sorry.

This is what fear can do to a person. I, a sensitive and loving teenager at the time, wouldn’t have dreamed of hurting anyone, and yet there I was, casually ripping apart an identity that struck too close to home, that made so visible my most intimate and private feelings. Too afraid that the world would see that you and I were not so different after all,  and terrified that I would become a them, I attacked you. Fear does ugly things to a person. Again, I can only apologize.

And for the many wrongs I did you in my youth, dear butches, you have only shown me love in return. Thank you for that.

Thank you for teaching me that there are infinite ways of being a woman.

Thank you for proving that all masculinity needn’t be feared, needn’t be male, needn’t be misogynist.

Thank you for wearing your love on your cuff-linked sleeve. Thank you for your bravery, your bruises, your buzz-cuts.

I know the world has not been kind to you, and that for a time in my life, I was a part of that. Thank you for forgiving me, for shattering my us‘s and them‘s, and for welcoming me home.

Most of all, thank you for teaching me that there is no such thing as “too much butch.”

All my love,
A femme

*********************

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So I was thinking… this is a lesbian website, and we haven’t talked about perhaps the most famous lesbian of all time: Sappho. I mean, the terms “lesbian” and “sapphic” come from her! Basically she’s the original Ellen. (Do you think in thousands of years they will be calling gay women Ellenese? Or Degenerian?)

Besides being the world’s most renowned lady gay, Sappho is also a poet that can take your breath away. Unfortunately, most of her poems survive only in fragments. However, my favorite, and the one I will be sharing with you, remains in tact.

Roman copy of a Greek original bust (5th century BC). It reads: Sappho of Eressos

For a lesbian, Sappho’s work is an opportunity to feel a sense of connection with the past, to see someone like ourselves in a history that has worked so hard to cover us up and keep us in hiding. In spite of it all, Sappho’s  poems drip with unabashed love and admiration for her female companions, and they have survived the millennia.

I love Sappho for the beautiful simplicity of her rhythms, and her striking ability to capture emotions and put them into words. Her work is without time; the feelings of love and loss that she experienced two thousand years ago are so very much the same emotions many of us feel today. (I mean, this poem is about being in love with a straight girl! You know we’ve all been there.)

But you don’t have to be a lesbian to enjoy Sappho’s work. For after all, isn’t love – the getting of it, the making of it, the losing of it – an emotion that binds us all in the human condition?

All of her works have been translated from the original ancient Greek, so I am offering two translations in order to provide a variety of viewpoints on the poem’s original wording and intent. The first is more modern, translated in 1958; the second is from nearly a half a century earlier, with a classical rhythm and rhyme scheme. Which do you prefer?

********************

Roman wall painting featuring woman with a pen; modern interpretations have deemed this a representation of Sappho.

He is more than a hero

He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes -
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you – he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can’t

speak – my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn’t far from me.

translated by Mary Barnard, 1958

Ode to a Loved One

A recently discovered poem by Sappho - papyrus from the 3rd century BC! (via Wikipedia)

Blest as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee, all the while,
Softly speak and sweetly smile.

‘Twas this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For, while I gazed, in transport tossed,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost;

My bosom glowed; the subtle flame
Ran quick through all my vital frame;
O’er my dim eyes a darkness hung;
My ears with hollow murmurs rung;

In dewy damps my limbs were chilled;
My blood with gently horrors thrilled:
My feeble pulse forgot to play;
I fainted, sunk, and died away.

translated by Ambrose Philips, 1893

********************

What do you think? Answer the poll question and we can see which translation everyone prefers! (I have a preference but I’m not telling!! ;) )

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I’m still living in a haze of tissues and cough medicine, but I just wanted to let you know that singer Chely Wright, one of our Featured Femmes on a Mission, got married to fiancee Lauren Blitzer yesterday!

Beaming brides! (via Chely's twitter)

Chely Wright and Lauren Blitzer looking beautiful in their wedding dresses! (via Lauren's twitter)

According to People magazine, the wedding was held at Lauren’s aunt’s Connecticut home. Because Chely is Christian and Lauren is Jewish, the wedding was presided over by both a minister and a rabbi.

As you can see, they both wore beautiful and traditional white dresses as they walked down the aisle in front of more than 200 guests. However, neither one of them donned a veil because, Chely said, “We both like our hair too much!”

Guess Chely will have to stop singing this song:

 
They both look like princesses; I’m pretty sure that means they are going to live happily ever after.

How adorable are they?

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