Femme Conference 2010 and Skirt! Musings

Imagine a room filled with the people you never see on TV. Imagine women of every color. Women of every class background. Transwomen, gender variant folks, tattooed mamas, fat women in sexy skirts, old women wearing bright lipstick. Imagine us all talking to each other with love, compassion, respect, joy, honesty, and fierce, unrelenting conviction that we can change the world. Imagine us all challenging each other and crying tears that smear our mascara and laughing so loud that it spills out into downtown Oakland. Imagine us understanding that we are all flawed and imperfect and unbelievably glorious at the same time.

Imagine you're in this room with us for three days. That would be Femme Conference.

Femme Conference, organized by the Femme Collective, is a radical event for self-identified queer femmes. And you know what? It's a breath of fresh air. In terms of activist, leftist, or radical events, it's incredible. For once people aren't just saying the right things about "diversity," they are actually diverse human beings speaking with diverse voices. In terms of queer stuff, I can't even tell you how special it is.

And in terms of women? Goodness.

For example, I hear buzz about how women don't identify as feminists anymore, how young people aren't activists, blah blah. But today, home from day one of Femme Conference, I have to say, that's all completely wrong.

It's not that women today take feminism's gains for granted. It's that you're not looking at all the women of today. I'd bet you my pass to Kate Bornstein's keynote speech that the vast majority of these fierce femmes call themselves feminists or womanists. With a nod to Sojourner Truth and the bell hooks title she inspired, ain't we women? Aren't some of us young activists? Aren't we right here, doing everything people say "nobody" does, and loving each other in it? I'd say a lot of young trans people think about feminism, and is that being acknowledged at all in mainstream women's media?

Well?

Sometimes I have a really hard time with Skirt, to be honest. I haven't been on here much lately (obviously). Some of that is good stuff, personally and professionally (ex: I'm dabbling in blogging for Tikkun Daily, which is very exciting). But it's also because one of my favorite skirtista friends is no longer on the site, and that happened under bad circumstances. The only other out-on-the-site skirtista hasn't posted in a month. Another blog buddy has decided to direct some energy elsewhere. There are awesome women on here, but my crew here isn't, well, here.

And I've been baffled for quite awhile about some of the things I've seen on here. Specifically, how incredibly harsh we can be to other women. I don't understand it. I have a really hard time with it.

I can feel pretty marginalized on here. Not because people are offensive. Just because, like debates about whether or not women call ourselves feminists nowadays, or about almost anything else, I find myself in communities that aren't even imagined in the debates. I'm part of all these amazing discussions, and then I open a women's magazine, or click on Skirt, and it's like my world has been erased. I don't see myself represented in this media, but I do see people like me in real life. I don't want to elbow my way in all the time.

I saw an old friend recently, a wonderful, accepting woman. And I realized that she, like a lot of my long-time straight friends, always listens respectfully, but never says, "Whatever happened with that woman you were dating?" My queer friends ask. I ask about her marriage. It's not ill-intentioned. But sometimes, it stings. I'm tired of having to call out, bring up, educate, remind, fight for space and visibility.

I didn't mean to write this, but here it is. I love it when communities of women come together. Love it. I'm thrilled to be part of Femme Conference. I've felt that way about this site, but lately I'm feeling disillusioned for all the above reasons.

It's bittersweet to see this imagined room in real life. Sweet because it exists. Bitter for all the times it doesn't.