That word 'queer'

queer /kwɪər/ SpelledPronunciation[kweer] adjective, -er, -est,
verb, noun

–adjective

1. strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually
different;singular: a queer notion of justice.

2. of a questionable nature or character; suspicious; shady: Something queer about the language of the prospectus kept investors away.

3. not feeling physically right or well; giddy, faint, or qualmish: to feel
queer.

4. mentally unbalanced or deranged.

5. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive.

a. homosexual.

b. effeminate; unmanly.

6. Slang. bad, worthless, or counterfeit.

–verb (used with object)

7. to spoil; ruin.

8. to put (a person) in a hopeless or disadvantageous situation as to
success, favor, etc.

9. to jeopardize.

–noun

10. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive. a homosexual, esp. a
male homosexual.

11. Slang. counterfeit money.

—Idiom

12. queer the pitch, British Informal. to spoil the chances of success.

[Origin: 1500–10;perh. <>

—Synonyms 1. unconventional, curious, freakish, eccentric, weird. See strange.

—Antonyms 1. ordinary.

Dictionary.comUnabridged (v 1.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged
Dictionary, © RandomHouse, Inc. 2006.

OK, I have a problem with this word. I don't know why, really. It sounds kinda cute when you say it, but I don't like being called queer.

Lesbian? Thank you.

Dyke? Umm, ok.

Bulldagger? I don't like this one either and it makes me laugh directed at me, but it's not a word I use towards others ever.

Woman who loves womyn or womyn-centered? Ok, but why dance around.

Queer? No, I am not counterfeit. I don't think my sexuality makes me of questionable character. Although my viewpoint is unconventional, I think most of ours are. I am not ruined, hopeless, or in jeopardy. And, though there are some who question my sanity, I am far from being deranged.

I just don't like the word. It's the whole connotation of the word. It says to me, there's something not quite right there. And while I know that a lot of people outside of the community would agree with this characterization, I won't define myself by them.

I also don't like to refer to dominant/aggressive/tomboy or tomboi/butch womyn as studs. It doesn't sit well with me, but I do respect the label others give themselves.

It's one of those words that have been used against the community. So, to lessen the sting people figure they could adopt it and make it ok. I can't get there.

Just my opinion.

just a few fine womyn...

Sharon Bridgforth,



Skyler Cooper

Toshi Reagon



Pippa Fleming,



D'lo,









Mercy, mercy me.




There is something to be said for butch womyn...

there is a Sexy Dark Chocolate womyn missing--I don't have her pic.


Mercy.

Fleeting thought

So many want to move to warmer, sunnier climates,

but if you really knew what rainy days do to me,

we'd be somewhere in the Pacific Northwest...

and you would be singing in the rain.

I love butch women

OK, what in the world is it that you all do? How do you do it?



The walk. Head high, shoulders back. Erect...so to speak. Almost a swagger, but umm, so smooth.

Those hands. Handy, strong, sure...damn.

The shoes. OK, I have to sit down. A beautiful pair of square toed shoes or crisp white sneakers.

The cologne. Just enough to make me have to lean in a little more. Heaven help me.

It is amazing.

Hair that is short, or not. Creased jeans, or maybe not.
A handkerchief-- Yes, I said a handkerchief...makes me blush.
Chapstick, lickable.

I just love butch women. You all are amazing.

Thank you.

Renewed, almost.

The past few months have probably been the most trying time in my life.


Everything spiralled out of control and I found myself standing by myself. I felt so small and worthless. I felt so completely alone. There was no one to be found, but I had tons of strings attached to me. There were strings leading to small things: the cat, the lawn, the vacuum cleaner, a broken window...just stuff.

Then there was this one huge rope, that could be used to anchor a ship. Now this rope began with my daughter, except she was nowhere to be found. This rope had so many things attached to it that I thought I would suffocate with all of the knots and just the sheer volume of it. I heard a noise, I had missed something and had to find what it was. As I got closer, I heard crying, it was my granddaughter. I picked her up, fed her, put her on my back and continued on.

I found one rope that had nothing attached to the end; that one was left behind by the lover who promised love, but tried to break my spirit because she did not understand how I could love and not ask for something in return.


During this unraveling I got tired, lost sleep, went through a period of denial, went through a period of anger. I wanted to cry but was just too damned tired.

I kept finding so many ropes with nothing and no one on the ends. My sister, aunt...gone. Wow, did I do something?


At one point one of the ropes pulled me, it was my best friend. She tried to help navigate, but there was only enough room for me, so she offered encouragement, advice and support. I thanked God for her, then I put her in my pocket for safe keeping.



Now, I have piles of things to get to and organize but I have gotten some things accomplished. I am still exhausted but I feel better.

Finally I had a revelation that although it is not clean, simple, or neat...I am able to look around and see exactly who and what I can rely upon.

At first I was crushed. What did I do? Why is everyone mad at me? What happened? But the more I cleared things away and looked at things I saw that it wasn't me. I was just the one left standing after the mess was left behind.


It has taken so long to get my head up. It has taken months for me to realize that stuff happens to people and it does not define who they are. What matters is what I do with it, and how I handle it. What matters is how I 'wear' it.

It took me a minute to get back to the point where I can sit across a table and look someone in their eyes and know that I am flawed but not devalued. I am worthy. I am no less a good woman. I am no less funny, articulate, creative, sexy, honest...I was no less anything. I am not defined by my circumstances. I am worth knowing. I am worth the time it takes to stop and take a closer look.




My neighbor has these flowers in his yard every year. Nasturtium, the flower is usually under the big flat leaves. The flower tastes peppery, like a radish. He explained this 3 years ago when I moved in, but I don't like radishes so I kept moving through their paradise. Last year I finally pulled one of the flowers off and ate it. It was delicious, better tasting than a radish and very appealing on a salad.

I am like that flower. I am not the prettiest, but by far the tastiest surprise for someone willing to take the time.

This is not a bad place to be.

I will blame it on spring

Ok, I will blame this post on Spring. Northeast Ohio winters can leave me quite desperate for sunshine and fresh air. Yesterday was the first real kiss of spring. I was out without a coat.

I am positively giddy. Who knows for how long, and I dare not question why. This is so much better than...not being giddy.

So, I was playing with my poetry magnets tonight. I let my eyes fall on random words. (You know the mind is a very dark place sometimes.) This is the unedited copy of what I saw:


Make me...

chant.

scream.

shake.

frantic.

delirious.

water.

consumed.

pant.

gorgeous.

cook.

tell.

easy.

fast.

rain*.

yours.


See, I really should edit myself 99.5% of the time. Though at 2:50 AM I am far less likely to do so.

Since this was what I came up with first the rest of the words seemed worth exploring...but, the further I went through them and the more I wrote...let's just say I don't want to start any fires.