Femme: a queer who creates a badass feminine self
FOUND IT!
LEYOMIIIII MAH QUEEEEEEEEEEN
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssssss
(via fuckyeahhardfemme)
Gold Prosthesis. Hard Femme Realness.
Rock it, Grrrl!
(via fuckyeahhardfemme)
(via femmethings)
BEING FEMME IS HAVING THE RESOLVE TO LOOK THE STRAIGHT WORLD IN THE EYE AND SAY “YOUR UNSOLICITED OPINIONS ABOUT MY APPEARANCE ARE MEANINGLESS TO ME.”
BEING FEMME IS NEVER HAVING TO SECOND GUESS A LOOK BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU LOOK AMAZING BECAUSE YOU FEEL AMAZING AND THEY ARE ALMOST ALWAYS THE SAME THING.
BEING FEMME IS FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUYOU CAN’T EVEN TOUCH THIS AND YOU KNOW IT AND IT DRIVES YOU CRAZY AND I’M NOT EVEN SORRY!
Submitted by queerlolita
our albums will be named
“C’mon, Man”
“Seriously, Dude It’s Not That Hard”
“What The Fuck”
“Shut Up And Leave Please”
“What Do You Mean You ‘Can’t Remember’?”
“Of course they is legitimate” (with wildly popular single, Why is grammar more important than my sense of self-identity?)
![fuckyeahcutetranschicks:
this me after having a makeover been on hrt since nov2011
[A woman in jeans and boots and a floral v-neck top. She’s got neck length blond hair. She’s in front of a whole bunch of flowers]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m36zoc2fJ61qexjmyo1_500.jpg)
this me after having a makeover been on hrt since nov2011
[A woman in jeans and boots and a floral v-neck top. She’s got neck length blond hair. She’s in front of a whole bunch of flowers]
I see you with your 5 o’clock shadows, your outfits held together with safety pins and strategically placed belts, your leather and your florals and the snarl on your faces and I can’t keep my heart from bursting.
Femininity FOREVER
(via femmesandfamily)
i’m shay, i continue to tinker with what femme looks like for me.
sometimes my dirty under-beard likes to make appearances in my pics, i’m into it.
short-faced femme in butch clothing.
Pressured to cut your hair
so you can fit in with the queerer than thou
cut nails
and long sleeved club.
You don’t paint your eyes anymore
because someone told you
it was wrong.
Your dresses don’t see daylight.
They call you by your last name
and finally accept you as one of them.
But at night
you dream of sequin finger gloves.
I see you, sibling femme.
The water is pinker
when we’re ourselves.
Don’t let someone else’s insecurities
stop you from frills.
I love the little curl to the tips of your buzz cut.
Like the femme inside of you
pushing through your scalp
to find sunshine.
I see you
Hidden Femme.
And if they don’t
then they aren’t looking.
