My dad took me and my brother to an old theater in Reading, Pennsylvania, to see Star Wars. We sat in the balcony. I was ten years old.
I remember being captivated from the beginning when those now-famous words scrolled across the screen. I liked the scene in the cantina with those crazy aliens and that funny, tinny music playing in the background.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched Star Wars since 1977. My favorite scene became the one with the garbage compactor. “Into the garbage chute, Flyboy,” Princess Leia says to Luke as she shoots her laser gun at the Stormtroopers, transforming from rescuee to rescuer, from damsel in distress to take-charge badass.
I replayed that scene over and over in my head. “Into the garbage chute, Flyboy.” That was the kind of girl I was when I played with the guys. That was the kind of woman I wanted to be.
When I got older, I idolized Carrie Fisher the author. She was a brilliant writer. If you want to learn how to write memoir, read Carrie Fisher. Her words were sharp and cutting, vulnerable and honest. The humor was so dark, you never knew whether to laugh or cry. I always did both. She wrote with the bravery and balls of Princess Leia. “Into the garbage chute, Flyboy.”
I read a lot of books. Most I recycle, handing off to friends or family, or donating to Goodwill. I keep some of Fisher’s books in a small, neat stack on my bookcase mixed with books written by a few other authors. My stack of weird books. They are the books that told me it was okay to think the way I did. That it was okay to be different. They are the books that gave me permission to be myself.
It’s been a tough year for losses. I lost two of my heroes earlier this year when the wrestler Chyna and the musician Prince died on back-to-back days in April.
And now Carrie Fisher.
I like to think they left me a little of their magic when they departed this world. A little of their bravery and in your face badassery. That it fell like stardust and caught on the inside of my sleeve or the back of my pants and clung like specks of glitter.
And that when I need to be bold and courageous, it will be there, giving me a needed push.
“Into the garbage chute, Flyboy.”
* * *
What about you? Who will you miss most from 2016?
Posted in Books, Life, Movies, Uncategorized
Tagged badass, books, butch, Carrie Fisher, Chyna, death, gay, lesbian, LGBT, loss, magic, memoir, movies, Prince, Princess Leia, Star Wars, writers, writing
W’s brother is getting married this weekend. On Sunday, W and I coordinated our outfits for the rehearsal dinner and wedding, making sure my ties won’t clash with her dresses. It’s so exhausting being a lesbian power couple.
Sunday evening, I ended up running out to Kohl’s department store to pick up a few things. I am mostly over the awkwardness that comes from shopping in the men’s department. But on this particular shopping trip, I found myself feeling a bit like a strange mythical being. Kinda sorta like a centaur — one creature from the waist up and another from the waist down.
While I was standing in the checkout line, I channeled my inner unicorn and reminded myself that I am a magical, mystical creature. I am a big, bad, beautiful butch. I stood head up, shoulders back.
As I daydreamed about rainbows and flying horses, I heard the cashier’s overenthusiastic cry.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I strutted to the register and placed my items down one at a time:
One Chaps-brand purple plaid necktie.
One pair of navy suspenders.
One Casio-brand retro wristwatch.
One white, wireless brassiere.
Welcome to my world, I thought. Imagine what it’s like to be me.
The young woman quickly rang up the items and placed them in a bag and sent me on my way.
I hurried home to show W my new wares.
* * *
For fun, check out this quiz that answers that age-old question: What kind of magical creature are you?
I got Liger. “You are like a lion and tiger mixed bred for skills in magic! You are unique and not afraid to be yourself. (And you actually do exist.)”
How did they know?
What kind of magical creature are you?
You can take the quiz here or just respond with the creature you think is most like you. Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun.
Posted in Being Butch, Gay & Lesbian, Gender, Uncategorized
Tagged butch, clothes, fashion, gay, gender, humor, lesbian, LGBT, magic, mythology, queer, shopping, transgender, unicorns, weddings