fitforafemme.com

Femme Confession: Lord have mercy, what a weekend. After my last blog post on Friday night, I:

• Threw a hissyfit on the internets because no one would go with me to Meet In The Middle in Fresno; felt better after I saw that a National March For Equality is planned for October in Washington, DC, felt better after I received a fantastic thank you email from Michael Rowe himself, felt better after a dear friend was inspired to write an article after reading my blog.
• Went on another fabulous SF date with the tomboy on Saturday night – drinks and pool at El Rio for the SF Dyke March benefit (the new design is so great!), followed by a stop at Luka’s in Oakland for wondrous dinner of seared halibut and lamb chops drowning in the most amazing gravy the consistency of broth atop a pillow of mashed potatoes, with their signature chocolate fondant to-go!
• Found a pair of ancient prescription contacts in the earthquake kit, put them in, suffered through wear for appx. 4-6 hours despite the fact that they felt sort of like having an itchy sweater ON YOUR EYES, took them out. Riveting stuff, I know.
• Met with friends for a Bon Voyage brunch at T-Rex in Berkeley before one of them is off to Turkmenistan for two whole months (want to eat their petite beignets every day for ever and ever, amen). Conned my girls into seeing a matinee of Star Trek, which was surprisingly fantastic. I am not at all a Star Trek fan, but really enjoyed all of the awesome space explosions and black holes and terrible monsters and shit.

Tomboy Confession: Today I learned that Spock is a fucking badass and I have Skinny to thank! I want to watch all the episodes ever made of Star Trek. YES! I hope he beats up a lot of loudmouths then goes back to being quiet and creepy! I told Skinny I am going to cut my hair like him, and now she’s so scared!*

*Hi, this is Skinny. I assure you that there will be NO photographs of M with atrocious Spock hair INCLUDING the Betty Paige bangs because that would be wrongful and also grounds for divorce. Such as.

Confession: The bad news early this week, combined with needing a vacation from my Memorial Day holiday weekend minibreak made for a pretty quick and painful week. I’ve been devouring articles on the Prop. 8 fallout, working like mad and oscillating between feeling angry and despairing or feeling all the more empowered and inspired to do something about marriage equality.

More specifically, I am really angry that ALL of the LGBT content on barackobama.com and whitehouse.gov has been taken down or revised into something managing to be hyper-condensed and watered down at the same time. I agree with everything that is said here, in an open letter to President Obama written by L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center’s Chief Executive Officer Lorri L. Jean. My favorite excerpt, though of course I encourage you to open and read ALL of these links when you have time:

We know the country faces many serious challenges and we have strived to be patient. We’ve waited for the slightest sign you would live up to your promise to be a “fierce advocate” for our equal rights while watching gay and lesbian members of the armed forces, who have never been more needed, get discharged from the military. And so far you have done nothing. No stop loss order. No call to cease such foolish and discriminatory actions that make our nation less safe.

You pledged to repeal the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, Mr. President. You promised to support a “complete repeal” of the so-called Defense of Marriage Act and pledged to advocate for legislation that would give same-sex couples the 1,100+ federal rights and benefits we are denied, including the same rights to social security benefits. You said, “Federal law should not discriminate in any way against gay and lesbian couples.”

I am appalled to the point of feeling literally faint with horror and disbelief upon reading this article by Andrew Sullivan of The Atlantic, and here is an excerpt from it:

Here we are, in the summer of 2009, with gay servicemembers still being fired for the fact of their orientation. Here we are, with marriage rights spreading through the country and world and a president who cannot bring himself even to acknowledge these breakthroughs in civil rights, and having no plan in any distant future to do anything about it at a federal level. Here I am, facing a looming deadline to be forced to leave my American husband for good, and relocate abroad because the HIV travel and immigration ban remains in force and I have slowly run out of options (unlike most non-Americans with HIV who have no options at all).

And what is Obama doing about any of these things? What is he even intending at some point to do about these things? So far as I can read the administration, the answer is: nada. We’re firing Arab linguists? So sorry. We won’t recognize in any way a tiny minority of legally married couples in several states because they’re, ugh, gay? We had no idea. There’s a ban on HIV-positive tourists and immigrants? Really? Thanks for letting us know. Would you like to join Joe Solmonese and John Berry for cocktails? The inside of the White House is fabulous these days.

Yesterday, Robert Gibbs gave non-answer after non-answer on civil unions and Obama’s clear campaign pledge to grant equal federal rights for gay couples; non-answer after non-answer on the military’s remaining ban on honest servicemembers. What was once a categorical pledge is now – well let’s call it the toilet paper that it is.

I’m just at a loss to say anything further, but there was one small triumph, one small thing that I could do this week to feel less powerless, so I decided to change my legal name. While M & I discussed it long ago and I’d been meaning to get around to it, on Wednesday I marched into the Social Security Administration offices in Oakland and demanded a legal name change with my marriage certificate in hand. And what do you know, less than five minutes after I stomped into there, I floated out with my receipt in hand, officially Mrs. M. FFAF Tomboy. The next and final step as far as officious bureaus and things are concerned was the DMV, and they asked that I return either after 72 hrs. to verify the SSA change electronically, or once I have my newly issued SSN card in hand, so I’ll do that as soon as it comes in the mail. In the meantime, the change feels FANTASTIC! I love it. In a way, I’m glad I’d procrastinated on taking care of it, because it was somewhat healing and empowering to do it this way, at this time, in response to those cowardly opinions.

Finally, in No More Mr. Nice Gay in The Huffington Post, Michael Rowe beautifully captures the three historical pillars of social exclusion and here’s my favorite excerpt from that article (bolding mine):

The LGBT community isn’t demanding the first gay president…or a lesbian Supreme Court Justice. Yet. What they want, and what they’re fighting for is full membership in American society without the three historical pillars of social exclusion (especially for men): the ability to marry someone of their own choice, the ability to raise and protect a family, and the right to serve and defend their country in the military. If those aren’t “family values,” then “family values” don’t exist. LGBT people are not any threat to “the family.” They are the family: sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, husbands, wives. The joining of two families is one of the oldest rites in the history of the human race.

It’s time that the full rights of every American be fully enshrined and protected, and that the battle for those rights be acknowledged as this generation’s defining civil rights battle.

Below are a couple of really great, brief videos to watch if you can’t stand any more on the subject. The first is a video of the (gentle) arrests made on Tuesday in San Francisco immediately following the 10AM announcement. The second is a great TV commercial made by the Courage Campaign, and I closed out with some funny via a parody by The Defenders – it’s pretty awesome and first in a coming series.

1. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VB1SzihxCRY]

2.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfPNO7G7qqY]

3. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNiqfRyoAyA]

If you made it this far, I thank you and appreciate all the well wishes and sweet thoughts y’all have been passing our way. If any FFAF readers are going to Meet In The Middle tomorrow, I want to know ASAP!

My dear, sweet readers -

Tomorrow morning at 10AM, the California Supreme Court will issue an opinion in three cases challenging the constitutionality of Proposition 8.

I won’t pretend that this doesn’t make me feel like something of a cringing battered wife letting the sonofabitch come home again, or like an abandoned lover waiting nervously for the next morning to bring a broken promise to statistically impossible fruition, anxious and sick to my stomach, because it does.

I do.

I can let my heart and my pride soar into hope, just not quite so high, not this time, because I know what it’s like to have a headline knock the wind out of me for a moment, a week, to hold my breath for almost a month, to make Plans A through M with subsequent backups, emergency exits, still harboring dreams defying any sort of logic; to wake up to the headlines pummeling me still, lording over my life with shocking indifference or sometimes indignation or worst of all with monotone neutrality. Lording over my family, over the person I cherish more than any other person in this world, over children stepping into homemade nooses, over daytime talk shows or witty youtube.com videos desperately trying to keep me laughing through being led blindfolded in the dark to an unknown fate, through tears or obscenities or despondence or all at once (my personal favorite).

Begging for mercy. Just to be. Hoping higher and higher, further into the things you tell yourself (and everyone else), like:

Whatever happens, we’re married.
No matter what they say, we’re married.
I don’t care if they come and set that piece of paper on fire, damn it, we’re married.
Whatever they try to take away, however vulgar or degrading they make this fight, this is safe, it always will be. We are married.

And they’re all true, but it’s also true that the piece of paper matters. Of course it does, why else would we fight so hard for it? Getting it, handing it back, having it stolen, filing the pile of reports to get it back, getting it back, living daily with the ominous threat of having it taken again, knowing it’s not good in this or that place, knowing with just the right mix of bad circumstances at the wrong coordinates it can be a matter of life or death, so yes, it matters very much and it’s certainly too late for those of us who have not been so lucky.

But I will hope nonetheless, with a longing eye softened by heartbreak gazing east, hoping despite the fact that the bottom has dropped out from under me before. I’ll hope that this blog post will seem silly in twelve hours, I’ll hope that my loverbird and I have something to celebrate with the entire country tomorrow night and I’ll hope that my daughter can feel however it feels for so many other little girls and boys in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Iowa.

I know you’ve fought and loved and cried and hoped and hope still alongside us both, and we love y’all for it. Let’s just see how all this goes in the morning, shall we?

Love,

FFAF

—

Well, hello. I can’t find any useful words, but I did find this video made me smile, a little. I am also applauding the folks engaged in civil disobedience in SF and elsewhere this morning in support of marriage equality, after the awful, shameful news:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UV26OMSb_VQ]

Confession: Tracy at Sole Salon on Bay Street, I love you. Thank you for making sure that my hair is absolutely perfect. You totally made my Summer / Spring 2009. Do y’all know what I did this morning? I showered, twisted a fistful of hair on each side of my part back and clipped it, and pinned the rest up into a messy chignon and set off for a meeting in SF. I put nothing into it except a dollop of shine serum. Several hours later, when I unpinned it, I had the loose, soft-as-hell, shiny waves of a fucking goddess. They were almost spiral waves, in some places. This is totally, totally, totally not even reality in my hair world, except now it IS, thanks to her. I have no idea what she did, but I’m never leaving. HEAR THAT, TRACY!? You’re stuck with me. You’re the one. Incredible. It’s effortless. Effortless! I would do the exact same thing with my hair pre-Tracy and not achieve anything near what I can now.

And that was before she really perfected it a few hours ago this evening. Now my hair is the ultimate force to be reckoned with. Well, it will be after I Lush it to death. That is neither here nor there.

Confession: Can’t think to confess. Too shocked about American Idol outcome. Too blown away by how awesome everything but the conclusion was. (Cyndi Lauper + Alison gave me goosebumps!) I’m not saying this HuffPo article says it all, but it’s certainly a relevant consideration. I did, however, work myself into a feverish, fantastical froth of excitement over potential Team Glambert duets – Dave Gahan? Robert Smith? Morrissey? RUFUS WAINWRIGHT? – of course none of them would be caught dead on AI, but still. A girl can dream, and she can dream big. BIGGER THAN JESUS, EVEN, BITCHES. So here, take it. The same dress you saw yesterday, with one of your favorite tops on me. I’ve nothing more to give.

FFAF SPECIAL ALERT: Don’t say I didn’t warn you! The tomboy and I are packing up and heading…um, East! That’s it, East. East to Yosemite for a glorious 4-day camping trip full of horseshoe games, exploration of several lakes and nearby creeks, lounging poolside with a 2′ tall stack of books, and chocolate fondue. That’s right. FONDUE. Ask anybody. Even when I camp, I am fancy.

The downside? 4 FFAF-less days.
The upside? Some rugged FFAF posts when we get back!

BECAUSE AYL SAID SO, PLS. TO PLAY THIS:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRSSF-yA-VE]

Confession: I wasn’t quite sure which pair of pink shoes I wanted to wear with this little outfit and decided to make a theme of it. Can we discuss how much I love this Theory denim jacket? I got it in pristine secondhand condition years ago. It’s as thin and light as a nice jersey cotton, perfectly fitted and something in between a crop and normal length. I think the wash is just right, too.

And MAC Rougette! I remembered that AYL wanted make-up details, and I’m no make-up artist or over-the-top fancy pants, but it can’t hurt to share my favorites with y’all, can it? Nah. While I’m no MAC whore, I do have a few picks that I like – staples like Russian Red, Viva Glam V for a nude with a kick and I used to swear by Studio Fix. Rougette is a gorgeous raspberry shade from the Limited Edition Mattene line that exists no more, but I’d bet the Cargo Plant Love line of lipsticks has a similar shade that wears just as creamily and prettily, albeit less long-wearing, like Gamba or Majella!

Scent: The origins and history of aoud are fascinating to me. Large evergreens native to southeast Asia contain agar, which is found in the heartwood of the trees. They occasionally become infected with mold and aoud is one of many names for the resin produced in the heartwood, in response to this attack or in order to prevent them. Go read more if you’re bored, it’s quite interesting.

Montale Steam Aoud, upon first impression, smells like something crudely swabbed onto your skin in cold, alarming amounts just before they stick you with a giant needle and draw so much blood out of you that you practically faint on the spot. NOT THAT I KNOW WHAT THAT’S LIKE OR ANYTHING. I’m just saying. Then it settles very, very slowly, becoming less severe and more mired in smoke and rose as big and dark and heavily suggestive as a fistful of damp, dark satin on a dirty stairwell. And arrogance, my god. Not at all suited for day, but pretty damn sensational overall. Notes: roses, oud, amber, agar motta, caraway.

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