Thursday, July 16, 2015


I'm troubled by one or two posts I see in my social media newsfeed today.

  • : the quality that allows someone to do things that are dangerous or frightening :the quality or state of being brave
  • (Definition from Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

If you don't believe Caitlyn Jenner deserved to get that award at the ESPYs, that's fine. Because it's a matter of opinion as to who's more "brave" than another. Awards and awards shows are all just opinion anyway. In my opinion, they tend to be popularity contests. I'm not gonna sit here and tout Caitlyn as some sort of hero, but by the above definition, she IS being brave. The experience of living how you were meant to, versus what people see and choose for you... And living with the fear of being rejected, targeted, hurt... Brave. At the heart of it all, she's a woman trying to live her life. And from what I can tell, she's not hurting anyone by doing so.

But if some of you really believe that sexuality and gender is a choice, I invite you to think about it for a minute. Just take a few moments and really toss a few things around in your mind. The first time you had any inkling about sexuality, was it a choice? The feelings, I mean. The only choice that's made is whether to hide your feelings, if society tells you you're wrong. And then there's gender. I'm a woman by society's standards, and I've always felt female -- whatever that means. I am who I am. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to have been born one way and know that what that looks like to others isn't who I actually am.

Those of you who believe your way of being is the "right" way; what if you were told by the "majority" -- or more importantly, by those in power -- that you were wrong?

I always cringe like hell when I hear someone say these things are a choice. Like anyone would ever willingly pick the "unpopular" or "minority." Especially at great cost. For many trans people, they pay with their lives.

I often wish that people would just think things through. Get outside of what is *their* truth and outside of what religion is telling them and really THINK. We were given brains and the ability to process thought, after all. And we are all human when it comes down to the basics.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Lost on Me

I used to think I had an artistic mind, but I've been questioning it lately.
I consume entertainment at face value, generally. It wasn't until I worked with creative types at MTV that my eyes were opened to certain things.

My former co-worker Jeff pointed out the nuances in Paul McCartney’s bass playing on Abbey Road, as we listened in our awesome office. Heck, I’d never even paid attention to the bass in any song, by any artist until that time, because music generally just washes over me as a whole and creates a feeling. But this is because Jeff is a bass player. And it was through him I heard one of my favorite bands of all time with new ears.

My film buff friends pick out all kinds of things in the movies they consume like food critics in a hot, new restaurant… because they make films, and are passionate about it, so they seemingly analyze every one frame by frame. But I just watch a movie to be entertained. If I happen to get something more from it, it’s a plus. I never really look for deeper meaning in story lines, and if the subject matter is dense, I have difficulty giving it my full attention, and I’m confused easily. Apparently there’s all kinds of stuff I’ve missed in the multi-Oscar-nominated Sandra Bullock/George Clooney flick Gravity — religious symbolism (well, there’s perhaps a very good reason I didn’t pick up on any of that!). It was lost on me.

Now there’s HBO’s True Detective. I’ve been watching it every week, taking it in on face value, hoping Rust and Marty figure out who the Yellow King is — a creep who’s been sexually abusing and murdering women and children in Louisiana. Apparently there’s all kinds of symbolism in it. Well, damn, I didn’t notice any kind of pattern, or anything deeper. And I sure as hell wasn’t making any guesses. It’s like I need the Internet nerds to point this stuff out. I now dive straight to a Google search any time I watch anything to see what I’ve missed.

Does it mean I’ve become so jaded that I just consume music, movies and TV shows and that’s it? It took multiple viewings and consulting the Internet to catch some of the stuff in my favorite TV show, Sherlock, while others got lots of stuff from the first pass. After watching the first season of the BBC show, I remember asking Rory, “So do Sherlock and Watson just run around solving cases? Is that all it is?” And he assured me that there was something else going on underneath it all. Of course he was correct, because as a filmmaker, he watches everything with an analytical eye.

Makes me feel like a bit of a schmuck.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

*Ultimate* Self-Confidence

Thanks to Lawrence, Fyodor, Marcus, Rory, Sue-Yee and Charlotte, I got plenty of burlesque schooling as a birthday gift.  I was able to take the "Essential Burlesque" series at the School of Burlesque and had $25 left over on the gift certificate they gave me.  So I decided to take "Ultimate Self-Confidence! with the World Famous *BOB*" and paid a $5 difference.

This is going to be a short entry, because there's not a lot I can say about the class. (Well, I could, but I won't.)  This is because BOB (Yes, World Famous *BOB* is her real name... she legally changed it.) kindly asked us not to, and I agree on the reasons why.  I also believe every woman should spend some time with BOB.  If you can take this class, do it.  I've had a week to process, and I've come to the following conclusions:

1. If a self-described "female-female impersonator," a very tall, voluptuous, curvy (many would call plus-size) 40-something woman can have self-confidence and love her body and herself, so can I.

2. I can love my body and myself, because...

3. ...Like my face, my body doesn't look 42 years old either.  And that's amazing.

Maybe others could have said these things about me.  But *I* couldn't say them, because I didn't believe them.  At 22 I hid from mirrors.  But at 42 I can look at myself, naked, head to toe and appreciate what I see... and even love it most days.

*BOB* has the power... and if you meet her, you'll never be the same.  

Friday, July 13, 2012

Essential Burlesque Pt. 4

A few days before my last class I received an e-mail from Jo, saying she regretfully wouldn’t be able to teach us on the 24th of June; she’d had a “family emergency” and also wouldn’t be appearing at the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island the day before.  Bummer.  But, according to the e-mail, we’d be learning from burlesque performer and teacher Darlinda Just Darlinda, and this time I looked her up on YouTube to see what I’d be in for.
She’s a riot.

Darlinda Just Darlinda Femme Femme July 7, 2011 from Darlinda Just Darlinda on Vimeo.

The thing that stands out to me in every performance she does is the look on her face.  She’s very entertaining.  It doesn’t hurt that she uses some of that comedy in her body language and performance, and she can shimmy her ass off forever.
She wore gold hotpants to class.  And was all business when it came to teaching us a proper showgirl strut -- in heels and also bare feet.  A little harder than it looks, especially in bare feet.  We strutted back and forth in the studio, towards the mirror, away from the mirror, again and again and again.  As always, these things take practice.  We learned how to pivot, to move from one direction to another gracefully.  And we did it a lot.  Like Jo and Gal Friday, Darlinda has tons of experience and shared tips and tricks and dos and don’ts to make sure you look fabulous on stage.  As she put it, we shouldn’t create shitty burlesque as performers; if you’re gonna get up there and do it, make it good so you don’t drag the whole art form down.  Heavy responsibility.  
Darlinda then had each of us show off our strut to the “audience” by playing a piece of music and having us one by one walk across the studio to it, being sure to give good “face” while doing it.  Again, harder than it looks.  None of us are used to making eye contact to a group of people watching us perform.  We all seemed to have a natural inclination to tip our heads down, either to focus on our movements or it was shyness.  There were several girls who seemed to have it “down.”  They strutted, pivoted, and even gave booty bumps, hip sways and turns.  I am not an improviser.  I strutted, trying to keep in time with the music, pointing my toes and keeping my chin up, all with a showgirl smile.  No “tricks.”  The perfectionist in me has never been an improviser; any move I make will be rehearsed so that I can play that dialog in my head that Jo, Gal, and Darlinda spoke about.  The sexual/sensual storyline that plays through your head so you can project it.
We had been told beforehand to bring a cardigan, zip-up hoodie, or button-down shirt to class, because we were gonna learn to strip it off seductively.  Darlinda broke us up into groups of either 3 or 2, and she taught each group in front of the mirror and in front of the rest of us a mini routine to take off the article of clothing.  To keep things different, she had each group take off a different item of clothing, so rather than strip off the cardigan I brought, she asked if I felt comfortable taking off my tank top.  Sure why not?
Agh.  Note to self: never, ever, strip a tank top off on stage.  Why?  It just never looks sexy.  Yes, the perfectionist in me wanted to do it “right” the very first time... but still.  I’d watched each of the other groups strip off a cardigan... a skirt... and even leggings.  They did pretty well.  I could see that a few of these girls had performed burlesque before, because they gave good “face” and attitude.  I stood in front of the rest of the class, but faced the mirror, along with another girl.  Darlinda showed us a very simple routine in which we’d strip off our tank tops, making sure not to ever cover our faces in doing so.  But as I turned away from the mirror to face my “audience,” I was immediately unsure of the on-the-spot routine I was just shown.  Darlinda started the music.  Of course right when I went to bring my elbow through an armhole, I was stuck.  And I could feel my face contort in frustration.  Damn!  Darlinda tried to talk me through it, but no dice.  I was convinced it was always going to look clumsy, except maybe if a pro had at it.  I started to feel a bit annoyed that she wanted me to strip out of a tank top in the first place, because realistically, if you’re planning an act, you’re obviously not going to set up obstacles for yourself.  At least in the beginning, I really shouldn’t set out to make things harder for myself, especially since it’s gonna be hard enough to even take off clothing in front of an audience.  Let’s be real.  

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Essential Burlesque, Part 3

The third part of the Essential Burlesque class taught us some isolations -- which is basically the art of moving one body part to highlight it when taking an article of clothing off -- and basic fan dance techniques.  When I’m talking about fans here, I’m referring to large, feathered ones, and Jo brought out two sets of very large, ostrich feather fans, one in red and one in pink.  She noted that she likes to curl the ends of the feathers because they have a nice look in performance.
Each of us were given a set of small marabou fans in bright colors (I jumped for purple ones, of course), and after Jo asked us whether we’d ever seen anyone fan dance, she then explained what it is to actually do it.  It’s a routine which consists of concealing, concealing, concealing... then finally revealing.  The idea is to reveal yourself in little bits, with the flutter of each fan until you are exposed in artistic and creative ways.  It’s more of a series of poses, actually, because these ostrich fans are so large.  It’s much harder than it seems; it’s easy to reveal yourself accidentally, between the staves of the fans or over the tips of the feathers.
The small practice marabou fans gave us an idea of the fluttering movement needed, with the flicking of the wrist, and also hand/finger placement to keep the fan open while moving it.  Tricky.  And it became painfully clear that it’s necessary to get right and left handed fans.  Jo pointed out this difference, and holding a small, cheap, right-handed fan open in my left hand was certainly challenging.  The moves seemed simple enough, and Jo was honest with us: she hates fan dancing.  But it can be an impressive act in your arsenal of performance if you can do it well.
After showing us some basics with the small fans, Jo wanted each of us to come up front with her, solo, learn a move with the large ostrich fans in the mirror with her, then face the “audience” (fellow students) and perform it.  Once facing my “audience,” I had no idea if what I was doing was right, but if the expressions on people’s faces were any indication, I wasn’t doing half bad.  Of course, a lot of it was expressions of support and sympathy.  I realized in that moment that once again, it would take practice, practice and more practice, and in the case of fan dancing, getting to know the “poses” that work.  Meaning, memorizing how it feels in each pose -- the placement of my hand near the small of my back, for example -- to achieve the desired effect with the feathers.
It was facing the group with the fans that made me think again about whether I’ll actually get on stage and DO this.  It’s one thing to think you might be able to do something, and in those private moments when you think you’re ballsy enough to do it, and another to actually DO IT.

There is so much work that goes into performing.  And I’ve never performed before.  Karaoke in front of drunken strangers doesn’t count.

Here's an example of fan dancing.  This is Nasty Canasta, performing to a rather unique choice of "music"... (excuse the moron who blocks the camera with his head mid-way)

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Essential Burlesque, Pt. 2: Lemme See What Yer Twerkin' With...

“Daisy Gruy√®re.”
That’s what I came up with when asked to pick a burlesque name for myself, using the formula of the name of a flower paired with a kind of cheese, or vice versa.  Not bad, for something I only had 30 seconds to think about.
It was Jo “Boobs” Weldon’s exercise to get us thinking about stage names.  This second class in the “Essential Burlesque” series, offered by The New York School of Burlesque, was meant to be the first.  But Jo is a very busy lady, traveling to burlesque events around the country and running the school she founded pretty much by herself.
This time, the class felt more like business, because Jo shared stories from a professional point of view, with a bit less humor than Gal Friday did.  But this one was no less enjoyable than the first.  It’s just I felt I could identify with Gal much more in her attitude.  Jo’s no-nonsense approach is necessary for anyone planning to pursue burlesque.  I haven’t decided yet.
Jo looked to be about 5’ 2” and possibly just a hair over 100 lbs.  The nickname “Boobs” (she didn’t pick it, but it stuck) is apt; her ahem, bodacious rack is prominent on her petite frame.  That, and her striking bottle red hair.  In her book, “The Burlesque Handbook,” Jo says that neutral, natural hair color can get lost under stage lights.  So obviously I’ve got an advantage having bottle red hair too.
Jo proceeded to teach us some old-school, classic moves, starting with the ever-important “Showgirl pose” and following with opera-length glove peels and boa combinations.  Using our teeth to loosen the fingers of each glove, we learned two peels: “Teeth, Cleavage and Collarbone” (page 44 in “The Burlesque Handbook”), and “The Glove Stand” (page 45) -- which uses a transitional move from standing to squatting to slip off the glove.  Accompanied by some traditional striptease music, we toyed with a pastel-colored boa, stroking it like a beloved pet or at times, like a beloved person, and tossing it to the floor with a satisfied smile.  Then the bump ‘n‘ grind.  Jo shared nuggets of knowledge she’s gotten over the years, given to her by legendary performers at Burlesque Hall of Fame Weekend events.  Many of these women are senior citizens, but make no mistake -- they’ll blow you away with their bump ‘n‘ grind.  And that’s what’s pretty awesome about burlesque.
Little by little, a routine was forming, to be capped off by The Big Reveal and tassel-twirling.  Now, it’s not that I didn’t think I could twirl tasseled pasties, it’s just I didn’t think the move would be all that exciting on boobs the size of small plums.  But I’m not a man (or a gay woman), and I should remember that the sight of any size boobs can be pleasing enough.
Jo fetched the large, rolling, leopard-print suitcase filled with everything a naughty dancer needs and pulled out a bag spilling over with an assortment of sequined, tasseled pasties.  She sat on the floor, in front of the studio mirror, sorting them all out, pairing them and making sure they all had double-sided tape in the right spots on the insides of each, and bestowing more of her vast knowledge upon us.
Inside I was a little nervous, only because I was painfully aware of my tiny breast size in that room; I’m definitely the smallest in the group.  And although I knew what she was gonna respond with, I still asked Jo whether twirling was possible with my itty bittys.  The answer?  “Yes.”  Duh.
We locked the studio door, covered the small window on it with burlesque show postcards, and suddenly it was boobs-fest as we all chose pasties, adhered them to our flesh, and carefully re-strapped on our bras.  We ran through our newly-learned routine, and I only looked like a bumbling idiot through parts of it.  I definitely need practice.  For “The Straptease” and removal of our bras, and The Big Reveal, Jo wanted us to follow her in the mirror rather than tell us what to do beforehand, which wasn’t so bad.  Everything happens rather slowly (that’s the point!), so it isn’t too hard to follow.  It’s the finesse and grace I need to work on.
We did an “Arms-Up Bounce” (page 76), and my tassels twirled -- in opposite directions, mind you.  Oh well.  Apparently with practice that can be worked out as well.  But really, when flesh is jiggling and all eyes are on your sequined globes of joy, does it really matter what direction the tassels are twirling?  Jo demonstrated a few other tassel-twirling moves, and I was admittedly a bit discouraged that only that one move worked for me.  But hey, she said I could twirl tassels and I did!      

Monday, June 4, 2012

Essential Burlesque, Pt. 1

Still not sure what I was getting myself into, I made my way to 440 Lafayette Street, the location of the first class in the series “Essential Burlesque,” offered by The New York School of Burlesque.
A sign in the lobby said the studios were on the 4th floor, and nothing else, so once I exited the elevator I wandered the halls of the plain, typical old New York building.  I peeked into the small window of each generically marked door, but all seemed the entry to what looked like typical dance classes.  When none of those classes looked like they featured a feather boa or at least satin gloves, I started to fear I’d wandered into the wrong place.  I finally asked the only man I saw, sitting behind a small desk in an equally small office where the burlesque classes took place, and walked into 4C, where I found a petite redhead lying on the floor, stretching her legs.
“C’mon in,” she called out when I opened the door.  “I’m just stretching.  You’re right on time.”
I surveyed the room.  Other than the redhead on the floor, there was one other woman there, seated in a metal folding chair against the wall, in the far opposite corner from me.  There was a piano behind me, a few other metal folding chairs nearby, and directly in front of me, mirrors encompassing the entire wall.  This was very obviously a dance studio.  The woman I assumed to be my classmate was older, a bit frumpy, and wore a bandage on one knee.
As other women slowly filed into the room, I noted the group was pretty varied.  A few were older, a few looked pretty young, a couple were skinny and one or two were heavy.  Of course I was the palest one.  At least two women there fit my definition of “rockabilly” style, with even stronger Bettie Page bangs than mine (I’m growing mine out for the time being).  One woman wore lush false eyelashes and heavy eyeliner on an otherwise nearly bare face.
The redhead rose to her feet and introduced herself as Gal Friday, as she sipped her large iced Starbucks coffee, and I was instantly relieved when I noted that a) she’s a member of the “Itty Bitty Titty Committee” like me, and b) as my mother would say, she “curses like a sailor” in ordinary conversation.  I immediately liked her.  She taught the way I would teach, and spoke the way I would about her subject: honestly, and with humor and real-life experience.  Sometimes that means you say “fuck” a lot.  Sounds like me, all right.  Gal Friday has apparently performed a lot, because she had great tidbits of information about what actually happens on stage -- what’s important and what’s not, and what you can get away with as well.  Out of the nearly 12 women that were in the room, at least two had never even seen a burlesque show, when Gal asked for a show of hands.  One woman said she’d seen the movie, to which Gal replied that the movie is nowhere near what real burlesque is.  This I knew, without ever seeing that piece of crap Cher and Christina Aguilera was in.  In her overview, Gal confirmed a few things I knew about burlesque: It doesn’t matter how old you are or what you think of your body, you can still WORK IT OUT.  You also don’t have to be a dancer.  In fact, dance moves can look kind of odd in burlesque.  She gave us an overview of what we’d be learning in the next two hours, and explained that the class we were having today was actually class two or three in the series, rather than the first.  School of Burlesque headmistress Jo “Boobs” Weldon is out of town, and she usually teaches the essential burlesque moves as well as tassel-twirling in the first class.  We would be skipping ahead and then going back, meeting Jo next week. 
We began with glove peels.  Gal opened one of her many bags of tricks inside a large, leopard-print rolling suitcase and produced opera-length, satin gloves in multiple colors.  She tossed a pair of jade green gloves at me (which I caught), and said she’d be throwing out pairs of gloves to each of us in colors contrasting what we were wearing.
“Don’t be shy,” she told us.  And she made it easy not to be.  This is supposed to be fun, damn it.  And it had only just begun.
I was told Saturday night that there was a chance a friend of mine would be joining me in class.  She and I used to work together, and she performs rather regularly as Stella Chuu.  Sure enough, Stella joined the class around 15 minutes in, and I was happy to see her.  The feeling was mutual.  She whispered in my ear that she wanted to learn classic burlesque moves.  I think she’s a great performer.
Removing long gloves in a sexy manner is harder than it seems.  But assisting us were those tried-and-true tips and tricks Gal shared with us... within minutes I’d removed and tossed aside my right and then my left glove in what I thought was kinda a sexy way.  At least my reflection in the mirror looked a bit like what I’ve seen on stage at burlesque shows.  Gal demonstrated a few different ways to cast off gloves -- all of which accent your body and build anticipation of the Big Reveal.  If you’ve got ample boobs, one way... if you’ve got no boobs (like me!), BAM! Another way!  Hot move!  Gal even shimmied a glove off her Itty Bittys... I was impressed.  I appreciated the advice for being able to peel gloves off in a sultry manner, even when you’re sweating and the gloves are stuck to you.  “It’s always too warm when you’re performing,” she said.
Speaking of warm, the studio wasn’t very cool, and it wasn’t because of the shimmying.  Gal said she had to unplug the air conditioner in order to plug in her little boom box for music.  I was definitely shvitzing.
Next was stocking peels.  I’d had quite a bit of trouble finding stockings, not thigh highs, which can even be found in a Duane Reade.  I’d spent my last day off wandering around the East Village in search of stockings, which are hose you wear with a garter belt to keep them up.  And then I spent $15 on a pair I found in a tiny lingerie boutique.  Of course by the end of class I’d gotten ideas on where to buy stuff -- for much less money -- in the future.  I think I did well with the stocking peels.  Again, there was a little trick to it -- because it’s a little harder than it seems to peel those suckers off in a sensual way.  My first peel sprang off my big toe like a slingshot... not exactly sexy.  (I’m such a dork/not sexy)  But I could see that with practice I could do much better.  Gal reminded us that some burlesque performers never do stocking peels, and some never do glove peels either.  She said that if gloves and/or stockings don’t work with your act, then don’t use them.  She emphasized creating your own routine, using moves that make you feel most confident and sexy.  You’re never going to look good trying to move in ways you’re not comfortable with.  This was proven to me when we moved into learning about chair dancing.  I figured out how to slink into a chair pretty well, and even one of the squat-like moves was difficult for me, but I could see how I could make it work.  But at one point, Gal showed us some moves on the chair that involved raising both legs off the ground, and in that moment I realized I have absolutely NO core strength whatsoever.  These bitches have to be a bit in shape to pull off some of this shit!  But again, can’t do that particular move?  Don’t do it.  These were ideas and some basic moves, meant to get our minds to think about what‘s possible.
It was with the chair dancing that we finally had some music to accompany what we’d learned so far.  It was typical classic burlesque “bah-dum-bah” stuff, and it made me think about choosing music in general for an act.  I asked Gal Friday about it, and she said you could choose nearly anything and WORK IT.
We even ran through our chair “routine” at this point, using all the moves we’d learned thus far, and with music.  I liked Gal’s verbal “coaching” during it, as she bumped to the music and shot a look to her “audience.”  Things like, “YEAH, BITCHES, FUCK YEAH!”  She was really cracking me up.  I think these may be the things she’s saying to herself in her own head when she performs.
My natural clumsiness came out when it came to transitioning from a seated position on the chair and rising to my feet in a graceful manner, and I felt myself getting a bit discouraged.  But I really have to remember how unrealistic it is for me to expect that I’ll master something after the first try.  I’m a perfectionist, and far too hard on myself.  And this may be the most forgiving class I’ve ever taken or will take.