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c
o v e r s t o r y
Coming
out of the Queer Closet
by
Nedhera Landers
f e a t u r
e s
A
Response to Alix Dobkin's article "Queer & Present Danger"
by
De-Anna Alba
Living
Deliberately
by
Mowani Carter
The
Queering of Femininity
by
Susan Craigie
c o l u m n
s
Health
by
Dr. Lipstick
Wealth
by
Ms. Moneygrrl
Sex
by
SexySuzi
Advice
by
Victoria
Fashion
by
Fran Fatale
Femme
Perspective
by
Christine
Butch
Perspective
by
Daddy Rhon
Publisher's
Note
Letter
from the Editor
Contribute
to Femme
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Living
Deliberately
by Mowani Carter
(continued,
page 2)
My
husband got his revenge. Without revealing his own clandestine
and ongoing affair with the wife of one of our closest friends,
he made the rounds to my family members. He told everyone that
would listen about my new, "wild" life style and his suspicion
that I was hanging out with a "bulldagger."
I
was the "Golden Child", the baby of the family. All my life, I
was showered with love. I was valued and precious. My family listened
to my husband, thanked him for his visit, and continued to treat
me and Raynell as just good girlfriends. That was about to change.
It
was a Saturday night. Raynell and I had joined two of my brothers,
3 sisters, and two of my brother's friends for a night of partying.
It was a smoky Chicago lounge, steaming with a feeling of anticipation.
The music was hot, the dancing was wild, and the cocktails were
flowing. I was surrounded by my family AND my new love. I felt
good!
That
good feeling was about to turn sour. One of my brother's friends
started hitting on me. Caught in the middle of my family who thought
it was cute, and Raynell who had begun to fume, I did my best
to act "normal". It wasn't enough. Raynell asked me to join her
in the bathroom, and like an idiot, I did. She began to go ballistic
about "me flirting with that man". A little tipsy, I started to
laugh at the absurdity of it all. The next thing I knew, she slapped
me--Hard!
I
was stunned. I'd never, ever, been slapped. After all,
I was the baby of the family, the creme de la creme. I became
hysterical and burst into tears. I couldn't stop wailing, despite
her abject apologies and protestations of "I don't know what came
over me." Finally I tried to compose myself. I went back to join
my family, eyeliner smudged, mascara smeared and lips trembling.
It was obvious that I had been crying. Actually, I was in a state
of shock.
Of
course, everybody started asking questions. I blurted out, "Raynell
slapped me." Well, the buzzing and humming reached a crescendo.
I heard my brother whisper to my sister, "See, I TOLD you." I
instinctually knew what he'd told. My beautiful bubble had burst.
My forbidden fruit had turned rotten. I no longer felt loved,
valued and precious. I felt so ashamed.
Although
one of my sisters said to my brother, "Whatever it is, it's none
of your business," I still wanted to crawl under the table. Raynell
and I had turned the party out--in the worse way! Two of my sisters
took me out to the car to help me rearrange myself. One kept asking
me what had happened and why. The other one was strangely silent.
So was I. How could I tell them that I was lovers with a woman
and she was jealous of a man? The heavy oppression of the closet
had begun.
continued
on page 3
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