The new anti-label movement

Ladies, gentlemen, and all those in between,

I have something profoundly awakening to say.

I do not label. I orbit.

Okay, I know what I'd be thinking if I were on the outside reading this. "Alllllright then! Someone's been knocking back a few too many sneaky quick ones!"

But no, seriously! Read Scarlet's post on labels and identity. Tell me if that does not make the most absolute PERFECT sense ever in the sensical world. Okay, I'm exaggerating, I know this, but holy shit, wow! Think about this. Labels are stuck on things, generally with some sort of adhesive substance that is harder than hell to get off. Hell, they sell products just to remove such adhesive substances! So basically, once a label's on something, it's pretty well on there indefinitely. If you want more labels put on, you have to add them to the labels already there, and soon enough, you're covered in labels, without a hint of original identity left. But orbits, oh, that's something entirely different. If a satellite is orbiting around the primary body, it is becoming a part of the primary body's gravitational pull without being submersed in its atmosphere. It remains its own entity, simply within the influence of the primary body. It can just as easily break free from this orbit and enter into the gravitational pull of an entirely different primary body.

That is what we non-binary people do. This is why we call it a gender galaxy.

God, this is such a huge moment for me. This is my liberation. This IS me standing on top of the smoking rubble that was the unit of pigeonholes. I finally get it.

Another exceedingly valid point raised is this: IF I don't believe in binary gender, then why do I have the term "bio-female" in my profile? (Although funnily enough, in subsequent profiles and bios that I have written, that term is absent. It didn't feel right. Now I know why.) And furthermore, why do I identify as "21F Switch" on FetLife? Why is that not "21GQ Switch?" But... how genderqueer am I? I may not be into binary gender/sexuality, but does the tiny little midget butch inside me really legitimize me embracing the genderqueer identity? Or am I genderqueer simply because I acknowledge that there is more to life than male-born-with-a-penis-female-born-with-a-vagina?

Although for what it's worth, after work I changed into my long, loose denim shorts and stripped down to the black tank I wore underneath my work shirt today, and went to wash the walls in the bathroom in prep for M to paint them. I caught a glimpse of myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, balanced on my tippytoes on a chair, shorts slipping down under my tum, tank top riding up, sweaty hair tendrils flying everywhere as I put sheer force of muscle into scrubbing the walls... and damned if I didn't think I was hot. So maybe I'm more genderqueer than I think.

And in the end, it only matters to a tiny, minute, fractional extent, because if I do identify as genderqueer, it is not ALL of me. It's not stuck on me. It's there, and I am in its orbit. I can break free any time I wish.

MAN that feels good.

Happy first HNT, self!

Yes, finally! The inaugural post of my participation in the Half-Nekkid Thursday project. I'm starting out slow and easy - there's plenty of time to get to the juicy stuff!

Oh, and by the way...

I'm now a contributor on Scarlet's Femme's Guide! Talk about stoked!

Now I just need to figure out what to write...

Just a taste of vanilla

How is it that when you're a kinky person, vanilla sex becomes somehow... interesting? Interesting like a quirky but oddly intriguing poem that you just can't help but sit back and ponder.

And oddly, it wasn't even sex. Sunday M stayed naked for most of the day, I think mostly because she was feeling too lazy to even put clothes on after her shower. Later in the evening, we were both laying on the bed - she just cuddling, me reading - when I couldn't help but take advantage of her nudity. I started playing with her clit while I was reading. After a while she got huffy because I wasn't paying full attention to her, even though I thought it was kinda fun to multitask like that, so I put the book aside and focused on her clit. Fingers first, delving into a little experimentation with a vibrating back massager, and when that turned out not to work do well, our actual vibrator.

And.. well, aside from the fact that we're two chicks, and she's genderqueer, it was completely vanilla. Hardly any sadism on my part, hardly any teasing, and I didn't even make her ask to come - and instinctively, she knew that.

Going back to vanilla sex kind of felt like finding that soft, tattered baby blanket in a box in the closet. The cherished roots, beginnings, nostalgia, old memories.

Next time I think I'm going to tie her up and beat the hell out of her. And make her hold the vibrator in her pussy while I'm doing it. :-D

God how I want a strap-on. Or at least a second vibrator.

Tomboy femme

So funnily enough, despite my bemused ramblings regarding labels, I have found one that has struck me like a tuning fork. (Cue drooling dogs.)

"Tomboy femme."

You can thank Sinclair for that one. Talk about a term that nails me on the head.

Then I came across this post by Essin'em on the Femme's Guide to Everything and it got me thinking more about the concept. I'm still unclear on the exact differences between femme and feminine (although I know they're there), but the idea of wearing a dress and heels - or, conversely, sweats and a tee, such as what I'm wearing now - and still kicking ass and taking names makes me want to pump my fist and shout, "HELL YEAH!"

The finest example of this (besides the darling Essin'em herself) would be my mother. I couldn't really tell you whether she's femme or feminine (maybe both?) but she certainly kicks ass in her cute skirts and cleavage-showing tops. That cute purse she's carrying? Yeah, it contains no less than four weapons meant to inflict serious damage should anyone try to fuck with her without permission. This just makes me swell with pride. My mom kicks ASS.

ANYWAY! Back on topic. I seemed to fall into the more femme role - or rather, my androgynobutch girlfriend just brings it out in me - but it felt incomplete somehow. How the hell could I be a femme when I'm such a... well, a tomboy?

Well, there you go! I can do it all! I can be a kick ass multitasking tomboy femme. AND, on top of it all, I can wrap these labels around me without letting them take me over and drown me. I AM the labels; they are not me. (Oh, how cheesy.)

Also, I am becoming more and more interested in a harness. I'm in love with this one - only I think I'd have to get it in black. The idea of not only fucking my girlfriend with a cock, but being a femme who fucks my butch girlfriend with a cock - that just tickles me pink.

This rapidly unfolding world before me is unceasingly fascinating, and I think the ride's going to be a lot of fun.

Makin' me a munch!

Urgh. I keep meaning to take a photo and post it for Half-Nekkid Thursday, but I keep forgetting! One of these days I will get around to it. I do have that as-yet-never-worn corset to show off, after all.

Nothing too sexy happening at home lately, minus the ever present teasing. I swear M's nipples get their own version of "morning wood," at which point they're irresistible. Meow.

On an exciting note, I'm helping form one of the first local munches around here! I'm really, really jazzed about this. There is a munch around here, but it rotates cities so isn't always available locally. Eventually I'll make it to that one, but in the meantime it's absolutely thrilling to not only expect a truly truly local munch, but also help organize it!

On that note, I'm really damn hungry, so I think I'm gonna go hunt me some food.

A conglomeration

Wow, okay, it's September! A turning of the year, in this climate anyway. Things start cooling down, leaves on trees are fading, students are going back to school...

There's a certain newness in the air that's reflected in my own life. My new job that I start tomorrow, the new 365 Women's Photo Challenge I'm undertaking, and just the simple fact that this blog is still really damn new, and has so many places to go. The anticipation, the sense of untold opportunities is almost overwhelming. Maybe this blog isn't the only thing going places. Maybe I am too. It feels that way, right now at least.

On a somewhat kinkier note, CurvaceousDee turned me on to a photo contest held by Shay at The S Spot, and I wasn't doing anything important last night so M and I entered. My entry is here, and this one is M's. I particularly like M's; mine didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. Win or lose, though, coming up with the ideas and executing them was a lot of fun!

A thought that has been rolling around in my brain lately (banging up against all the other thoughts) is that of titles, and labels. The more I read around - in blogs, on websites I come across - the more titles I am exposed to. Two good examples would be the blog of The Femmenist Fucktoy, and Sinclair Sexsmith's Sugarbutch Chronicles. The discussion and exploration of these various titles and their deeper meanings is fascinating, but there again I find myself using the word "overwhelming," because wow, that's what it is! So many of the things that those two - and others - write about resonates with me on many levels, but at what point do I cap myself off? At what point do I say, "No more labels?" Mostly I identify as femme, but some days I feel butch! And the term "fagette" that ScarletLotus recently wrote about described me almost perfectly (well, minus the optional lesbian part). For a long while I identified as bisexual, but then I finally grasped the term pansexual and, what do you know, it fits, so now I'm that! "Thank you, I'll have the Pansexual Combo with a large side of Femme, a small thing of Butch - lightly salted - annnnd hell, throw in a Fetish for dessert." I have a list blog; I almost want to start a list of all the things that I could and do identify as just to keep them all straight! There are times I just want to throw my hands up in the air and say, "Dammit, I'm just ME! I'm the one standing on top of all these pigeonholes!" I just want to float along in the ocean of gender and sexual identification without washing up on any of its shores. I want to absorb it all.

Still, though, it's fun to discover new facets of my identity because in discovering them, I am generally also discovering new people with whom I can - and sometimes do - make a connection. Dog knows I am desperately trying to make connections anywhere I can, since I live in a fairly conservative backwater where drag queens and trannybois aren't exactly roaming the streets at large. Maybe one day I will be able to talk about these things face to face with somebody. Until then, the musings of bloggers more enlightened than I remain my only salvation.