I Am The Pin-Up Queen Of My Own Universe

I watched The Notorious Bettie Page for my favorite class. Yes, it was for school! Really!

Anyway.  I have a very different aesthetic when it comes to certain things.  That being said, I adore Bettie Page. I don't look at her photos and judge her harshly, I laugh and enjoy her as it seems she enjoyed herself. I view Anna Nicole Smith and Marilyn Monroe in much the same light.  But Bettie is different. The director, Mary Harron described Bettie as innocent, like a playful, little girl playing dress-up.  She had no agenda.  She would never fit the role of feminist. Though she clearly enjoyed the attention of the camera, as well as various states of undress, there was still a genuine sensuality and enjoyment that never reached the point of vulgarity.  (I know, what I find adorable is another person's vulgar, and viva la difference!)

In the film, a female photographer Bunny Yeager says there is something about Bettie.  It's like she's nude but not naked.  It just seems that she's comfortable with her sexuality.  There was no sex in her movies or photos and compared to today's porn, hers is just fluff.  The thing about her is that innocence and that openness.

I think there is a little bit of Bettie Page's spirit in me.  Wait a minute, I know I am NO ONE'S idea of a Pin-Up, but if you read Last Night I Decolonized My Thighs maybe you will understand what I mean. Though, I am a bit vulgar in that post, there is a bit of unabashedness to it that I love about myself. I love being able to be myself. I enjoy being able to be open and playful.  I love for my love to be receptive and safe so that I may open up even more.  Within a loving, receptive relationship should there be a limit? Need there be?  Yes, of course there are limits to every person's comfort level, but I hope to find the limit of mine. This part of me, however, is not very agressive. It's actually pretty shy, and though I will try to let this side show, if it is pushed away, then it's something that doesn't come back easily. And what I end up wondering is why can't I be fully ME.

What would that look like? Where would that leave me? Is there anyone out there who can handle that? Anyone who wants to? When I am happy and open, I am creative and playful, more outgoing and just better. When I feel loved for who I am it is the most awesome thing ever. If I am able to find what I love to do, should I have to hold back?  It doesn't make sense. It has been a while since I tapped into my inner Bettie-- I may be more Ugly Bettie than Bettie Page, but you get my drift.  What matters is being able to be who we are, being able to be freely ourselves, and being loved just as we are. The real question is what am I willing to do to be fully open?

My Love For You

My body vibrates with love for you.

My eyes dance over you whenever I see you. From your eyes to your lips, and then your hands.

My arms long to hold you close to my body. I want to hold you close enough to smell you and taste you.

My hands cannot rest until I touch you. Your head and face; your arms and hands. You.

My breasts ache for your mouth, your touch.

My legs reach for you in the night. Wanting to wrap around you, keeping you close to me. Keeping you inside me.

When I think of you, my honey begins to flow. I am distracted and hungry to touch, smell, and taste you.

My love for you is real and true. It encompasses every thing. This desire for you is deep and makes me yearn for you every day.

To Dread or Not to Dread, That is the Question

I have been locked for 8 years and 8 months. I love my locks. I think they say something about both my strength and my vulnerability at the same time...this is probably only apparent to me. Even in my off-beat, self-indulgent, self-expression, there is the understanding that I am reaching out to the Universe, to God, and begging that the Almighty touch me. It is at once a statement and a prayer.



That is the most articulate way that I have to explain without non-verbals, like touch. This is not just a 'hairstyle'. It is a prayer. As my writing is a prayer, as my paintings are/were prayers.


9 years ago, I could not open a magazine or look at an inviting, smiling face, without seeing dreadlocks. It seemed that the Universe itself was willing me in this direction. Now, I do not feel that connection. I do not feel that pull. It is a prayer that while I cannot, truly will not say is unanswered---I will say that today it feels like a desperate plea. It seems to be a yearning that is still unfilled.



Much like the caress that never comes from a lover. That moment one hopes for when a lover, the one that you pray is THE ONE, opens the door/window/wall/whatever and lets you know that your loving, praying, cooking, sexing, crying, wanting and waiting is not in vain. That moment that lets you know that who you are is more than just 'OK'. That lets you know that they won't be the same if you leave. There is a longing unanswered when that moment does not come.



Although I love my locks, I still long for that moment. That caress from the Universe, that cradle of comfort, peace, healing. So selfish, I know but 'every living thing wants to be loved'(Shug Avery, The Color Purple). Although I will always yearn for that caress from the Universe, I no longer feel the need to carry a hairstyle to signal that longing. I just pray that this emancipation from the physical does not set me adrift spiritually or emotionally. One battle that I have to fight is that I think my locks are incredibly beautiful. I think they make people notice me. I cannot imagine what I will look like without them. And the thought of facing a humid summer without them makes me want to cry.




Peace,
Storm

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.