dear lady haha

please tell me what it all means? but, oh, don't stop.

to progress. beyond.

I heard about this art exhibit at the guggenheim that involved posing a question to every person who came to the show: "what is progress?"

And thinking about it. Progress is. . .

. . .a monopoly on ideas. its really about who gets to decide what is progressive. which person, which formula is truly able to pick out progressivism. is it better now? really? who is to say?

. . .a judgement on what is good and what's better. its a linear relationship on events. something needed fixing, someone made it better, and we progressed. but how is it that all life must be drilled down to a linear equation. an introductory statement, the body paragraph, and a conclusion?

. . .the excuse to get up in the morning. a piece of purpose. If we didn't believe things were getting better, that things were moving forward. why even try?

. . .elitism. progress is a scale on which to balance superiority. think - folks who believe that america has progressed much farther than the sudan. european nations are more progressive than south american countries. why do you think its necessary for people to name "developing" or "third world" nations. its the scale of progress, my friend.

when i think about my life and the role that "progress" has played, i wonder if progress, and the title "progressive," is really the biggest problem. an elitism of who owns progress, who can make it, who has already made it, and who stands in its path. progress is a group of people that exclusively own politics and power. its just another word/philosophy/idea to demostrate how capitalists and, democratic ones at that, choose and try to own other people, movements, struggles, to stand up on the shoulders of the people on the ground to proclaim like originaldreamcolonialistcharacter John Smith without collaboration or question, "This, my friend, this is progress, I have won it for you - you're welcome."

I don't want progress. I want justice. I don't want to own "wins," i want to see communities strengthened and cherished. I don't want figureheadspoliticians--unrepresentativeplaceholders who think they represent us all, tell me what is better than before.

i want something better than progress. something that is circular, something vertical and deep and visibly complex and sticky. and it tastes like vegetables from a local garden and water untainted by toxins and a place to breathe clean air and an opportunity to choose and have dignity and access, to share and love. how can we get there, when we are so concerned with piecemealprogress from this place that we are now?

i want progress beyond progressive.

homehome.

making home.

gender{ed} greetings upon visiting the south

twice in the past two months, i have found myself traveling in the south. dallas, texas. atlanta, georgia.

first things first - southern hospitality, strict gender barriers, and homophobia somehow make up a perfect little storm for me to get all twisted up and frustrated.

"well, hello there young lady."
"Ma'am, would you mind. . . "
"Excuse me, sir, uh, i mean, well, uh, OH, sorry."

It seems to me that the first moment, I get off the plane, i feel my gender strength shrink a little bit. And I try this out in different ways.

First day in the hotel, I wear my heels, my swishy femmy pants, bra with padding. the ma'ams and smiles go flying. My youth is pointed out to me at every turn. But, no thank you, old man, i don't care if you like my bag or that you felt the need to condescend to me based on my sex and age. eff off.

Second day - boyed up to the nines, with the full eyeliner and mascara touch, "ma'am" is no longer delivered as a coo or a congratulations, but more of a "could you get the hell out of here so someone else can stand here instead?" And, of course, it is still ma'am. Apparently, there is no way to express politeness that isn't attached to a gendered word.

And I dont' mean to knock on the south. because really, some of the down-est queer-est fierce folks call the south home, but I want to know - why?

Obviously this happens whenever i travel in this little country. And I wonder, what would happen to the social fabric, the invisible contract of etiquette, if I just started calling people out. Made my life into a sort of PSA, for "shut the fuck up with attemptingtopushyourpowerstucturedideasonme by covering it up with a smile." I'd probably get tired. I'd probably get harassed. someone might throw small objects at me. Or someone might give it another thought.

"I Do Not Deserve Your Tolerance"

So this big blog, The New Civil Rights Movement, features this entry called "I Do Not Deserve Your Tolerance." It's a gay marriage blog (surprise), a watchdog of sorts, I guess. Well, anyways, here is why gay people "don't deserve" tolerance -

I am an American citizen. I pay taxes. I vote. I have a passport. I volunteer my time and voice and donate money to charities or causes I believe in. I have a college degree from a pretty good school.

Basically, David Badash, here, expresses that his good citizenship, purchasing power, class privilege, education privilege, and acceptance of "american" systems, should mean that he is normal. That he is just like everyone else. He might even be better than a lot of people, maybe even MOST people - he tips doormen for god's sake! he has money to donate to charities! probably LOTS of money.

And there it is. This is why people think that the LGBTQ community is equivalent to an affluent, educated gay male population. Not only that, but that we are all obsessed with our normalcy, and need our rights like normal frickin people.

And maybe it is the affluent, gay, white male population that is so normal. And so, they do deserve civil rights, damn it.

I'm sorry, but I know I am not the only reading between the xenophobic lines here. What if I was not a citizen? What if I yell at the cab driver sometimes? What if I have a shitton of debt, didn't finish high school and have had a slew of un-committed relationships in my past and future? (yougetwhati'mtryingtosayhere,right?) Do I still deserve the right to marriage, the right to health care and services, the rights to my future children and possible partners' will?

Well, the thing is, it seems that I am always pissed off about the same ol' thing these days. But I suppose privilege is as privilege does. Maybe I'm the one who's wrong and mistaken, it's just frustratingly exhausting. for real, though. I'm tired.

Next stop: jb sells out. sells her soul. becomes a highpowered corporate businessperson. eats exploitation for breakfast. and lives with her cat, named "willful ignorance."

2009. was fine.

I haven't written in a while. and today will not be the day to start.

but here is a musical poem. a playlist. of 2009 mashups and remixes. poetry in motion really.

musical afternoons: I'm a rainbow too

The Gags and the Political(?)

So I've been thinking a lot about The Gags.(pronounced gahhgs/gawgs)
Lady Gaga. Lady G.
(instead of Miley Cyrus. yes, it's true.)

I think about Gaga when I am walking to work and when I am pondering in my bed (this is one of those times).

I am thinking about the way that she is so freaking bizarre, but then in a way, the way that she is creating performance art is not so bizarre. I think there is something about performance art that is supposed to be bizarre, outlandish, and you shouldprobablycoveryoureyeswithamonsterheadddress (think badromance).

I am also thinking about the paparazzi video, in which The Gags is made up in different forms of glamdalized disabled attire/accessories, like wheelchairs, crutches, neck brace, etc.

obviously much of this stuff that she puts out into the ether can be perceived as problematic, and i might be able to agree with that. is it ok for her to glamourize dead female bodies? violence against women? hang out and dance around in crutches like that was her experience? is it transcendent or cheap?

these are things that make me wonder about LadyGaga. what is art and what is political and what is progress and what is unguided gawkery for the sake of fame? I mean it has to be said that she is making piles of cash for making "freaks" feel cool.

After seeing how much she needed to be part of the National Equality March, was a key note speaker there, and was responsible for a lot of the publicity, I think maybe The Gags. is trying to make a statement. with all the bizarre-o-ity.

Is this goddess worship?

here is what The Gags, had to say herself. On Ellen. of course.




I remember when The Gags first came out, I had to ask my sisters and mother what they thought of Lady G since I had never heard/talkedabout/shookmyass to Gaga outside of a queer setting, her work is quite queer-ious. Partly my doing and perspective and choice to isolate myself in queerworld, but also part hers I think. Something about her is queer. something "freak"-y. something bizarreperformatic. and something like a drag queen. (i love her because she looks like a dragqueen most of the time and I want/love/wish/dream/feelasthoughmyfemme identity is a dragqueen)

It's the "freak"iness that I love. that she is acting like the outcasted "freak" in high fashion. making freakiness look sexy. (it is sexy, actually, and some of us have been doing it for a long time)

but then, is it still freaky when its Lady Gaga and she's on MTV, the VMAs, Ellen? Is it a new way to make fun of freaks? is it freakiness to appeal to the masses? Is she trying to speak to or for ability politics? queer politics? consumerism? sexism?

and this is what keeps me up at night.

before you decide, also, please, watch this video --> (before The Gags was The Gags, she was Norah Jones at NYU)

"Fame is our felony; were so in love with it.
Some superstars and masochists who dont know
Where to go."
--Stefani Germanotta (aka LadyGags)

new music morning. infinite volumes

more thoughts. to share

still wading around in the gender pool, I found the following

Sugarbutch on femme invisibility

The it Identity and me on What is a femme

and butch-femme cast

femme is a gender queer identity.

at the transcending boundaries conference this weekend I had a lot of time to think about the boundaries of gender. the ways in which we transcend them, think we transcend them, and/or have simply changed the boundaries without really transcending anything.

and I have some thoughts.

it was the first time that I was able to talk about my self and my identity as a genderqueer person. but as i sat there, in the ballroom amongst other genderfuckertransfolkpolypanbeautifulpeople,
I realized that it was only the label that changed and not me.

The thing is that I have always felt like my gender was part of something greater than "girl," i realized the joke that gender is always playing on us, and that moving in and out of those boundaries was a comfortable place for me to be - in between.

At the conference, there was quite a strong contingent of genderqueers, and/or visible gender fucking. Why is it that I have only allowed myself to identify as genderqueer now? When I say genderqueer I mean, those who fuck gender and those who are unrestrained by gender binaries. But when I was more often identifying with femme, and strong femme at that, I would not dare to take that genderqueer nametag. Afraid to be scoffed at, gawked at, or, even, to raise an eyebrow.

hmmm.

In my experience, genderqueer has become something that folks claim by either presenting anything other than the proscribed gender identity associated with their private parts (think female bodied, masculine/andro/anything-other-than-femme-or-fem presenting folks).

But as a strong, dom femme, my understanding of myself was still gender "queer." Femme was a costume that I adored (and still do) as a powerful way to present myself. I felt that being femme was a stance, an announcement that gender was a game, and I was going to win (and i will). not much of the strength in my use of gender presentation has changed between femme and genderfuckingqueer, only the words to label them.

is it just me, or has an "either/or" popped up here?

And so I wonder, are we simply changing the names to allow for a "queered-up" version of a gender binary, one that we might have been trying to escape anyhow?

Would a high radical femme of a female bodied body be allowed into a genderqueer-only space, if part of that person's understanding of themselves included genderqueerness?

i think so. but why does it feel like it is not allowed.

It seems the "allowed" categories that we have policed ourselves and each other into include - femme (as one part of a spectrum) and genderqueer on another. Why can't femmes be genderqueers too? Why is it that I waited until i had my boi haircut to feel empowered by genderqueerness, instead of something that I had to hide inside my pushupbraandfakeeyelashes?

If gender really is more than the clothes you wear, more than your hair and your makeup and the way you walk, and who you like to screw and when and how, then what gives?

and another thing

(this is an afterthought to the previous post called "femme is a gender queer identity")

A couple weeks ago I was reading a blog post by the presbyqueerian. Here's one of my fav lines

Maybe that’s it, saying “I prefer she” simplifies my journey with the sex and gender I have, that somehow I am at peace with the sex I’ve been given and the gender I was raised to have.

Beautiful.

But the thing is - this thoughtpiece was prefaced by these words, "Every time I am in a space with enough politically correct consciousness to ask participants in the conversation, group, meeting,what have you, to state their name and pronoun preference. . . " For some reason, this did not sit with me well. and it still doesn't. and I think i have come to get a grip on a little bit of it.

and so the thing is. I was thinking.

I feel more pressure and feel more policed by those "politically correct counscious" people than I think i should. This weekend I walked into a space full of transandgenderqueer folks and instead of breathing a sigh of relief that "phew, now i can wear whatever i want and feel like I can be who i want to be," I, instead, felt "oh fuck, if i want to be understood and perceived in a way that mirrors the way i feel inside than i better not wear the asshugging jeans and instead go the more 'boyish' route." it was panic to present myself.

there's this expectation that folks who think and look like you and agree with you should allow you to be who ever you'd like to be. there is this expectation that being politically conscious means being accepting and welcoming.

i'd like it if it really felt that way.

talking with another gendertranscender at the conference, the person echoed how i felt. Ze said that ze had felt similar pressure to present "extra" genderfuck-ing that morning to prove hirself amongst the others - this meant wearing two sportsbras and a binder to be flatflatflat. and ze had achieved it. "but now i can't breathe. . . "

and thats what its come down to.

somehow feeling secure and empowered in your gender presentation and the ability to please the other folks in your identity group must equal pain. more restrictions - just another brand.

somehow i fear the scorn of queersandgenderqueers more than i care what the rightwing has to say about me.

somehow i feel that i have just entered another category to push myself around into and allow myself to be pushed around by what i think others expect of me.

when did community stop looking like love and acceptance for each other?

new music. night. times.

Guess what, gaywhitemaleconservativeagenda -

You do not represent me.

so get off my tv, Gay Political Agenda, and stop saying that you all are "leading the LGBT" movement.

just stop.

On the eve of the national equality march, I am watching Obama speak at the HRC annual dinner. Eff this, man. This shit does not represent me.

does not.

i am irritated that the gay movement is being represented by gaywhitemen. not that I feel like I am part of a "gay" movement. I would rather associate with a "queer" movement or radical progressive movement or what other buzz worded far leftist movement we can come up with.

Obama says "I am here with you in that fight" that fight for equality for the gay movement.

I have a hard time believing that real change is going to come from the president, nor can i believe that real change will come from the Gay Movement.

disheartened and verging on disgruntled.

The National Equality March

is happening here in DC in Sunday, October 11.

Yup.

Apparently, today Barney Frank said publically that the March is "useless." He said that people should just stay home and lobby their legislators because no one cares about the march.

Hmm.

When I first heard about this march, I will be quite honest, I thought it was an awful idea - it is a drain on resources, it has been poorly organized and has been less than wisely strategized. Instead of directing already low faucets of funding to LGBTQ services and direct service organizations in a freaking economic downturn, our egomaniacal celebrity leaders (read Cleve Jones) insist on throwing a national gay pride parade at the Capitol. And I call it a gay pride parade because thats what queer "protests" have so often become.

That said.

It now seems that people young and old are heading to DC in throngs. Now that all these people are going to be here, it makes no sense to poopoo the damn thing. Now that the thing is in motion is it also "useless" to try and make a splash by disagreeing with it. Yea, I don't think this march is going to do anything for strategy, anything for politics, anything for LGBTQ legislative agenda, anything for policy. No Thing At All.

All that will be achieved with this silly little (and hopefully it won't be that little) march is a recognition of community. Instead of gathering for city gay pride parades that become more and more social/sexual/consumerist/assimilationist, young queers will see a gathering of queers in the name of progress (or maybe liberalism, whatever).

I remember the first time I attended gay pride in San Francisco as a youngen and it affected me in a way that i felt in my heels and palms. Those first glimpses of community inspired me to spend my life finding community and being part of building communities that are strong, supportive, and loving.

And so, if people are inspired by the community aspect of this whole charade, then I'm ok with it for now. I suppose.

So suck it, Barney.

new music afternoons.

at the height of all this stress. keep on trucking.


how's this one for a theme song?

dis. eating. order.

I think i want to talk about it. i think there is something queer about it. or at least, i am queer, and there is something about queerness and about the way i've lived with my eating disorder(s) that cannot be disconnected.

i said it.

that dirty thing that happened to so many of us, but we are not allowed to talk about. or admit.

From my experience - I have battled some sort of disordered eating since I was 11 or 12.

After getting my braces installed and tightened in my earliest preteen years to the point that I could not eat much solid food, i learned that people would comment on how great i looked, how thin, how pretty. i was 12. acceptance on the scale and in adults' faces. policed into maintaining thinness. policed into looking as close to a white hetero feminine beauty standard that i could get.

and thats where it started, i always wanted to be normal, i always wanted to be perfect, i always wanted to be in control. and so eating half a bagel in the morning and half a bagel at night was somehow a way to achieve that. I could lose a pound a day, i knew, but it depended on how much water i drank.

by allowing my mind to think of only the eating that i wasn't doing, the empty hole in my midsection, the hollowness of my collarbones and sticks of fingers, I distracted myself from thinking about my feelings towards women. I wanted to be a perfect hetero all american girl, and thinness was my way to achieve this. lesbians are never so thin, and never have so many boys liking them.

as i write this, my anxiety rises in my throat. my disordered eating never stopped. ever. in some shape or form, controlling (or not controlling) the things that come into my mouth have been the coping mechanisms i used to get through much of the identity issues that i have gone through.

if being queer made me feel ugly, i could eat less. if I didn't feel quite right in my body, in my clothes, I could try to take diet pills. i could let my mind constantly wander to the list of what i had consumed that day instead of feeling the helplessness or hatred towards myself.

When my politicization entered the scene, I disgusted myself - how privileged i am to have an eating disorder, what a joke. there are people who are starving and dying in this world, and i am choosing not to eat because I am sad. (tough love). poor privileged girl, poor you, jennie. get over it. but i never wanted to stop. of course, this did not qwell my worried thoughts or my fucked up relationship with food.

by hating my queer body, the queer things it did and desired, i hurt it. i starved it. and then i let it get overweight. and then i starved it back down. and again.

even now, pushing to publish this post, makes my stomach feel queasy.

what i don't want you to think -

that i don't love me. i do.

and i work everyday to take care of my body in a more caring way,
the way i might do with a loved one.

this is not to say that queernessandgenderandrace and the way i fit into those labels
donot astoundme sometimes.

but loving myself must be an act of activism
- for all the people who hate people like me,
i love myself,

and i choose to live the way i do every day.
i didn't choose to be queer
but i choose to be proud of it.
and happy
and i love it.

happy birthday blog

dear blog.

you turn a year old today. at first you were just a spitting gurgling little method of making sure my mother knew i was not miserable in my new home, dc. Now you are a pulsing infant ranting and raving, more about personal/political and less about what i did yesterday.

dearest blog.

this is your 78th post. not even 100 for a year. I guess you've been busy doing other things.

dearest blog.

Happy Birthday


skip to 1:00 to get the song. the intro is goofy.

new.music.afternoons.

Gender.fuck.

As someone who works in the queer communities, I have been able to talk about gender and gender presentation in a very comfortable way. I would hope that people could consider me an ally to the trans and genderqueer community. but hold on.

Realizing that I have been somewhat of a more introspective person as I have grown, talking about gender issues has always been a familiar thing to do - unless it had to do with my own. as this blog is meant to be my own self indulgent and political act of making the very personal very visible, follow me for a minute here.

gendergendergender.

truthfully, I have always considered myself to be genderqueer. Before I knew what genderqueer meant it was a concept that seemed to coincide with my own perception of my understanding of my identity that I just didn't seem right as "girl" and bucked against the sexism that I have felt. For me it was just a concept of not feeling the necessity of adhering to gender norms and resisting the blatant sexism and mysogyny that takes place around me in het and queer spaces.

For some reason, I have felt more empowered about my queer identity than any other. I feel sheepish and private about my own multi-racial identity and, similarly, my gender identity.

Further from that I feel caught in a funny place about my gender, because maybe i'm not queering gender enough to be able to call myself "genderqueer." who gives out those permissions to enable others to announce nonnormative gender identities. I realize the problematics around the issue here.

so then, what does it mean to queer gender?

as someone pointed out to me - engaging in queer sexualities are already performing acts of gender nonconformity. Right? duh. so, check.

does queering gender have to do with my clothes? is it the name i go by? the pronouns I prefer? Is it my controlling and/or domineering nature? is it my underwear or the way my ass looks in my jeans? How about my hair? yes. and no. and yes, again, and maybe always.

does this mean that I must renounce my woman presentation to be able to claim power in my gender? i don't think so. or maybe.

can i still wear eyeliner and be genderqueer? yes or no. choose one or both please.

so where is my gender? and what does it wear?

and is it always the same? definitely not.

but tomorrow i will change my mind. that's probably for sure.