Monday, November 30, 2015

I Am Really A Woman...Sort of. Or I Was...Probably by Kyle Phoenix

You know what really pisses me the fuck off?
The excessive, constant, puerile, incessant, rabid professing of MSM (or bi, gay, omni, sgl, straight---pick a stick to skew on) who go on and on and on and on about how masculine they are.  How absolutely completely and thoroughly they are the epitome of masculinity.
God, they're annoying and irritating.
Actually they're closer to boring.
Don't get me wrong, there are men (and some Rosie O'Donnell (I'm still tripping on the act that the world reacted when she came out...was that really a secret?  Terry McMillan.  I'd say more on Terry's....masculine strength energy but I'm afraid one day she know...kick my ass. Go all Furiosa on me like I was trying to stop the breast milk tanker or something. Digression....)
MSM have fallen into this rabbit hole, like K hole but not as interesting as to how you go there, about I'm a man.  Which reminds me of the little boy in my FAVORITE movie (okay, one of my Top Three Films---if I told you several of the others on the Top ten list, you'd get nervous about me.  terry McMillan nervous.) Gloria, starring Gena Rowlands.  She's basically a washed up mob moll living in a Bronx building who is charged with protecting a smart aleck Puerto Rican kid as the mob tries to kill him.  She doesn't like him.  i can relate, I'm a teacher.  I love children.  Children, under 12 once ran me out of a classroom after I tried to teach them math for 4 hours.  There's a reason why I teach adults...  But I do love children.  Some kids.  Not everybody kids.  Not gangs of kids all the time.  Sometimes, not all the times.
But I relate to Gloria in the movie who tries to fob off the kid, push him away and then when the wolves come for him, when the mob guys explain that they're going to take him and do away with him because of what he might of seen, kill him....SHE GOES THE FUCK OFF ON THEM (in silk Ungaro!!)

I have known since I was a child that I would die for a child, for children.  If there was a truck barreling down the road, a kid in the street---no hesitation, I would gladly, almost gleefully honor my self, my creator, knock the kid out of the way and take death.
I would also kill for children.

Not for some bullshit patriotic, jerk off jingoistic patriarchal fantasy of hegemony oppression and domination---I eschew CNN, war talk, Iraq bullshit, war films (I never go to war films---ok, one Tears of The Sun---Bruce Willis---because of my double crush on him and Monica Belluci---and the fact that as contrived and heartstring pulling as the film is, he won't leave the Africans behind---kids, women, etc..  I saw it three times in the theater, cried each time.)

I spew the above because it's a feminine growl, roar within me.  Now I'm over 6 feet tall, I've sounded like James Earl Jones since the third grade (freaking out teachers, allowing me to be truant and call up schools and pretend to be my stepfather and get the lead of Santa Claus once as a 10 year old), I've exercised, jogged, run marathons, lifted weights, done Ashtanga yoga---hurt my knees, went and got a Pepsi and plan out Haagen Daz because pffft, come on---I'm gonna eat the whole pint in a sitting---all of this had lead to my playing between 200 and 250lbs for about 20 years (there was a brief stint in undergrad when I got moving/exercising, like a lot,m and got down to 170lbs.  People thought I was dying.  But ironically I also had dreds down to my ass (I'd like to formally throw out that I was the first to weave in a colored---like Kool Aid red or white dred---red for passion, for being a phoenix, white for sageness, for wisdom learned---yeah, I've been....interesting over the years.)  I'm a big, manly, Alpha by testosterone balance (yeah I actually know that---look up the Alpha Beta test on here), deep voiced, honestly, hung (no, I've never measured; when asked I tell people I focused instead on becoming a man rather than measuring appendages that my atelier doesn't have to make regular clothing adjustments for), I've only been mugged once in Brooklyn at 16 because I ignored my instincts and walked into the Chinese restaurant that a gang was sitting in....  I've been in a few fists fights, one in the past few years when someone got lippy with me in my house, my house!---I will fuck you up if you come for me, but all of that masculine energy stuff?

It's high end feminine energy.

Now let me clarify.  I don't like shopping with women for stuff (though I have a good fashion eye I like to think); I don't like frilly, weak, girly-girl stuff or women for that matter; I detest misogyny.

Remember Madge Sinclair?

That kind of Queenly feminine energy?
That's what I feel inside.
I feel it from the perspective, the heaviness of a Queen, a ruler, sovereign.
I have always elected since I was child that I am sovereign unto myself.
I will never meet the Queen of England...because like Ava Gardner, I'll  never kneel before another bitch.

It gets scarier.

My mother nicknamed me a Grade A Cunt when i was about 16 because in arguments, attitude and demeanor---champagne tastes (Emporio Armani!) I was really a bit much.  I probably said something scathing.

I remember looking in a full length mirror in my bedroom when I was 15, completely naked and thinking.  Oh, this time I'm male.  Okay, I can work with that.  At several tarot card readers they told me that this is my first time being male, all my previous lives I've been female.  My godmother of 20 years agrees and in fact added that I struggle (?) with weight because I relate to my body subconsciously as a woman would, not as a man would.  Lean is not in my future.,...unless you know...I'm dying.  And then, I'm gonna go hard on Popeyes and cake and ice cream and steak and lobster and Alfredo and bbq ribs, chicken, beef----oh, God I'm salivating.

 I tend to intimidate people.  I accept this now.  I didn't before, I think that's where I got the Disease to Please flu from.  I used to be so careful with people.  I even used to modulate the volume of my voice so I wouldn't frighten small children, women, men, dogs, adults, cars.

I'm not interested in you know voguing and I only have done "drag" once in college for a Halloween masquerade ball at Swarthmore.  I looked like a lighter Viola Davis.  For me the thrill was wondering around Philly for a month picking out just the right outfit and shoes.  Once I dressed up, after two hours I was bored with it, as only someone who'd done it for hundreds of years previously could be.

Sexually?  You know you smutty thinkers were wondering if I'd go all proclamation of the art of big boy bottoming and wanting my walls knocked out and having my drum beat.  Ummm, no, not my position of preference.  But I like to think my spiritual feminine self awareness has made me a better lover---no complaints, cash, gifts, 4 year college education, apartments---offered, so I must be doing something or someone, man or woman, right, right?  Me and Madonna and boytoys---we're right there.  I'm that kind of feminine energy...until you know maybe a King shows up...but they haven't.  actually the Kings who do show up tend be straight and wish I were a woman.  Good friends but no romance there.  So I content myself with good sexy men who I hope will be good, protective parents to my children---I fully expect to always make more money than them.  Supposedly there are two contextualizations you can fall into as a parent psychically---the one who wants to be home with the kids or the one who envisions themselves supporting the household.  Guess which one I see myself as?  I always see myself as holding children as I step down the stairway of an airplane...okay, a private plan.  Sunglasses.  Yeah, I'm that kind of bitch.

However I believe it's just energetic switch hitting, there are masculine things about myself that I like---the height.  Short people are funny.  Being paid more.  Being able to walk unmolested by comment or hands on streets, night or day (except you know, in the deep South or by certain police stations...though my brief stint in jail?  I was safe.  And well regarded by the male prisoners and guards.  I ran that bitch and was only challenged by another big Black man who said he was calling me out to stop fucking with them so much---that's a whole other tale...)

I love my Pashmina scarves.  I have like 100.  I like men's shoes and boots that have a good, solid heel on them though.  I rarely wear sneakers or flats, I have trouble walking without a heel.  Go figure.  And no, I have no transsexual yearnings or desire.  I've had several trans friends, even wrote the book (tranny by Kyle Phoenix on Amazon---shameless plug) so I know that trope inside out.  No desire there to cut, fold, tuck, invert or insert artificial anything, ever.  Though, Seinfeld-yes, there's nothing wrong with that, in my opinion.

I stop and look in store windows wistfully and think if I were a woman I'd rock the hell out of that.  But curiously I have no desire to you know buy the outfit and stumble through the Village like Jeffrey Tambor in Transparent or anything.  Never have.  That long ago Halloween was my last foray.  Though I have a killer gender bender costume in mind from a Gustav Klimt painting.

Ok, the point of my digital rant was to encourage you to embrace your spirit.  Feminine or masculine, it's expression and not try to hide or downplay the feminine.  The feminine energy within me has allowed me to nurse my grandmother as she died, counsel friends through pain and death, change my ailing mother's diapers and wash her body with such care and affection that she complimented me that I really knew how to care for a female body because she no longer could.  I've cradled children and comforted them and run out onto the street once when teenagers were bullying a preteen girl and her brother with a ferocity and furiosa that it seemed like they were my children.  I've sat on the train with a drunken young lady in the corner of my eye, as marauding men surrounded her, and I growled at them, I let them know that there was a lionness seated a few feet nearby, not a accomplice, who would rend them, tear them to protect her, a stranger.  I've been gentle with dumb men.  I've been loving with men who have never felt loved.  I've leaned into a young woman's face and told her to get the fuck up, to not snivel and cower and cry, to not embarrass us, the feminine, because she was more than her pain.  I suppose I teach with the feminine, with a loving, stern, patience and deliberation to fulfill my life's mission: To free my people.

I don't think feminine is better or worse than masculine, male or female, I think that whole war of the sexes argument, discussion is trivial bullshit too.  I think we have work to do on Earth and I don't have time to measure cocks to clits.

Embrace yourself.
I do.
I am sovereign unto myself.

Smile, Kyle