Monday 3 November 2014

The Dance of the Cis-ish Faerie


So, here’s the thing! Biologically I’m a bloke. Psychologically I can identify as a man. So that would make me a Cis-gendered male. However I am also able to identify as a woman. Not so that ‘I feel like a woman trapped in a man’s body’ but enough that I enjoy inhabiting feminine attire and relating/ being related to, at least partially, as female. From a gender-world view I don’t fit into the Cis- world and I don’t fit into the Trans- world. Cis- men find my drag puzzling and unnecessary. Trans- women resent my ability to pass as Cis- and do not accept me into their fold either. Maybe just as Bisexuals will often complain that from a sexuality point of view they are at home in neither the gay nor the straight world, I, from a gender point of view am at home in neither the Cis- nor the Trans- world. Maybe there could be a word for it-Bigendered? Or Cis-ish?
I’ve just returned from the US. I went to a gay night-club in the Castro district of San Francisco where I allowed my feminine a degree of expression....

Green velveteen poncho with the pink fringe
Blue ripped denimette lycra tights
Peers over half-moon leopard print framed specks
A brightly coloured plastic butterfly quivering on the brim of the
Dark brown floppy top-hat textured with light faun bobbles.

No bosom swells the green fabric
Just the sturdy shoulders of a masculine frame.
A definite bulge in the crotch of those skin-tight blue jeans
And substantial manly thighs there too
Who is this grotesque come to ruin the night at the Badlands Castro Bar?

“Nice Poncho, Honey”
“Wow-those jeans”
The bouncer braces, sensing imminent danger.
The bartender, with eyes conceding discomfort, attempts nonchalance 
But knocks over glasses as he delivers the requested soda.

Around the dance floor sneers and elbowing 
Saying “Look, what the cat dragged in”
“This bar ‘aint for folk like you” 
“Why don’t you stick with yo’ own kind”

But the siren calls of the diva deities and their dancing dollies
Beam down from the plasma walls of this coliseum
And the straight-acting boys
(Pissed, stoned and almost wasted
Usually reluctant to have their sissy invoked)
Are anesthetized enough now to access at least a caricature of their pansy nature.
The Dance effervesces rare breaths of oxygen into a testosterone driven femininity suffocating world.
Even the trans-lads take a few panting gasps as they wiggle their hips and lip-synch to Kylie.

So here the Cis-ish Faerie dances The Dance
Dances with the space between the backs of disgusted dancers
Dances with the Mascinine-Femculine divine within
Dances as a laugh in the face of the disapproving
Dances a prayer that the “Loved Feminine” become manifest in all ourselves
That the “Hated, Despised, Repressed Feminine” be seen, acknowledged, understood
And gently embraced with love!

Dances it all to Oblivion!
Dances it all to Eternity!
Dances it all to The Cosmos!