My bestie Jacqueline Mary is disabled in a way where it is not readily apparent to the naked eye. Her arm was shattered in a bike accident a couple of years ago and the initial surgery restored only a small percentage of function in her arm. But because she still has her left arm and most people aren’t particularly observant, it’s not obvious right away that there’s anything different about it. She often has to tell people not to touch her arm, especially strangers in public, and sometimes people we know don’t even believe her and continue to poke, touch, even punch her in the arm because they think she’s joking. She’s also in a lot of chronic pain that has gotten worse over the last couple of months.
She posted the following note to Facebook and I really loved it. Not just because she’s my friend, but also because I thought it was an exceptional example of stating your needs and asking for help–I believe vulnerability is a sign of strength.
I’ve been noticing how I respond to hat-wearing queers and it is usually pretty positive, so long as the hat fits well and works well on the head of the person wearing it. Often I notice that if the hat is a bad fit or shape for the person it kills the whole look. So I decided to ask my pal Nicky Cutler (co-producer of Yes Ma’am) who works for Goorin Bros. what to keep in mind when purchasing a hat.
This advice goes for folks of all genders, though I am presenting it with a special dedication to those dapper gents who wish to take their outfits to the next level. Omigoddess, a good hat. Swoon.
Last night, Arnie and I sat down to watch the premier of this program. We had a houseguest from China. We baked pasta and poured pinot noir. I learned a lot. These are the top 10 things I learned.
1) A vagina is more properly known as a biscuit. This is becuase vaginas flake open like a really well made biscuit. Like the kind you get at Hardees.
2) When searching for a family home, don’t look for one that is merely near the rail road tracks. Look for one that has freight trains constantly roaring through on an easement you’ve granted the rail road across your lawn.
3) In some parts of Georgia, black men get the confederate flag painted onto their chests and drape themselves in an Ol’ Dixie the size of a bed sheet at sporting events.
Normally, I’d do what I do best. Sitting in unflattering positions, eating passionately and aggressively and deflecting everyone’s poor self image are my strong suits. (Right next to fucking, tying a pretty bow and swearing.) I like to incite and I love to be seen in my fat bawdy. It reminds me I’m alive… surviving and thriving.
But like I said before, Mercury’s in Retrograde, I haven’t gotten intentional time with my Lover and I’m on my motherfucking period.
Today was not the goddamn day.
The experience of learning how to make the bok choy from one of my close friends reminded me of an amazing piece I had read just that very day. I related to it from a very deep level–raised by a single mom just barely above poverty level and often relying on fast and instant foods for lack of time, and growing up in a fat body. It is so honest, so beautiful and I am so grateful to Blyth for allowing me to share it with you below. I think food justice and healing our relationships with food starts when we are very honest about our her/his/theirstories and come together to discuss them. And when we share our resources and knowledge base to enjoy new and different ways of eating.
My friend Natalie moved away from Brooklyn to Central Pennsylvania and shortly thereafter her new apartment flooded, she had an emergency evacuation and suddenly lost just about everything. Her thoughts within a week of the flood were very inspirational to me and I thought they might be to you, as well. Learning how to lean on folks in times of crisis is really difficult and it helps to be reminded that it happens and our communities can reach out in very surprising ways.
My Austin-based friend Jessie Dress (oft-mentioned on the blog) has spent the last month growing out her mustache and chronicled the progress and her feelings on her Tumblr. I was impressed by her thoughtful interaction with it and pensive posts. I’ve been thinking a lot about Femmes and Body Hair for the past 13 months because I’ve been working on a FemmeCast episode about body hair. Someday soon I will get an intern and get more of my media projects finished!
Here is Jessie’s latest installment, but definitely check out the archives of a Femme Growing Facial Hair on her Tumblr! xoxox, Bevin
The UofT was a pretty fancy school [ivy, wealth] and so there were a fair amount of people who appeared to be leisurely rich white folks in expensive workout clothing lifting 5-lb-weights repeatedly who gunked up my groove. Amidst their comfort I started to think: if they can enjoy having a body, why can’t I? If they can aim for strength and muscle-mass, why can’t I? One of the pools was in a building that had a stained-glass roof and I would do the backstroke for a quarter-mile, unable to stop smiling. I got ballsy, rode my bicycle everywhere on the well-marked lanes of Toronto’s downtown core, I stood on my bike and kicked out my legs in joy, rode in the snow and rode in the rain; I rode in heels and rode when my heart was in my throat, breaking.
‘m queer, and what I do with my cunt has EVERYTHING to do with what I do with my cash. I am my sexuality, and I am my politics. For me, I cannot and will not separate them. That would be lethal.
MY queer community is anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-genderist, anti-heterosexist, anti-sizeist, anti-capitalist, anti-ableist, pro-immigrant, pro-healthcare, pro-worker, sex positive, against police brutality, the prison and miltary industrial complexes, and the list continues.
My queer community believes that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” for real… It’s not just a quote that would be found on an HRC t-shirt.
Let’s talk about HWP. You craigslist junkies will likely know what this means, but for those who haven’t had the pleasure, I’ll expand the acronym. HWP = Height/Weight Proportionate. In other words, it’s a socially acceptable way to say “No Fatties.”
When FemmeCast was just getting started, Bevin decided to do an episode about breakups and she asked me to share with listeners my tips for getting over a broken heart. As, at the time, the self-described “Queen of Heartbreak,” I felt well qualified to address this issue.