March is National Wimyn’s Herstory Month – and by golly I’m a womyn, so I wanna celebrate, from a butch angle, the achievements of my Black sistahs, i.e. her: high-heels, stockings, fashion, make-up, nails and fly azz hair styles. I commend my sistahs for perfecting the craft that many call becoming ‘a lady.’ I never could get that stuff right. My mamma tried her best to groom me to be a mirror of herself, but it wasn’t meant to be. Let me just say that I’m secure enough in my butch demeanor to discuss my gurly adventures and still retain my studly pride. Now, I’ll admit that I tried to walk in pumps during my teen years to please my mom on Sunday mornings. The problem for me wasn’t wearing the pumps – just the walking part; I always fell, tripped, or twisted my ankle. I don’t’ see how you gurls do it. And then there was those ‘keep your legs closed’ dresses, my dad always left his handprint on my thigh to persuade me to do just that. Shoot, it was more comfortable sitting spread eagle; I had thick thighs. Stockings were another challenger for me because they always managed to get ripped before I got them up to my waist, mom made me wear them anyway – another lesson I think. Hair was the final challenge for me back then, and I wore all the styles: Afro, Gerri Curl, perm. The layered perm look was the worst, I had to sleep on my stomach with my chin on my hands to keep my head off the pillow. Finally, the absolute worse experience for me was my nightmares with makeup. On three occasions my female family members ganged up on me and did the unthinkable – they held me down and put that paste on my face and lips. Senior prom was the first time the crime occurred, my ‘I’m trying to be a heterosexual’ wedding was the second horrible event, and the last crime was committed on Valentines Day by an ex-lover and my daughter. The makeup never lasted more that 30 minutes, as soon as my hands were freed – it came off. It was clear to me, and I’m sure to my family, that I was never going to concede to being a lady – I was a boigurl, a butch womyn. Today, however, I rejoice whenever I see a beautiful Black sistah working those heels, sensuous stockings, and bringing a plain dresses to life with her curves. Her hair, nails and accessories only serve to heighten her appearance and her appeal. I truly appreciate the time, patience, eye towards detail, and pride that femme and straight sistahs put into their overall look, it’s damn right alluring. It’s an achievement that I salute. To my fione Black high-heel wearing sistah – I say happy womyn’s herstory month. Enjoy the festivities this month, and remember the womyn who’ve, historically, paved the way for us today.
vickynabors@aol.com.