The identifier “femme” is something I hold near and dear to my heart – from geeking out over lesbian history, to staying active in the femme community at Smith. To be femme is to signal deviance though subversive femininity – that is, to use common tropes associated with femininity and use them to communicate difference as a lesbian, bisexual, or queer person. Many incredible pieces have already been written about femme invisibility and the replication of patriarchy in lesbian spaces. I want to focus on the unique challenges that come from flagging oneself as femme as the label becomes more ahistorical and less rooted in the lived experiences of women.

Presumptions still fly at Smith, even in the face of “Don’t assume anyone’s sexuality.” Thin white folks, with short hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and flannel, are more likely to be coded as queer than someone without those traits. So in order to be coded as femme, we have developed our own markers for being seen, and seeing one another. In a campus of mostly women, femme folks are even more likely to be assumed as straight, which might be why we have attached ourselves so dearly to markers of femme-ness made popular through cultural icons and the Internet. Septum piercings. Body glitter. Vibrantly dyed hair. Femme-flagging with nail polish. Very short bangs. Lipstick in blacks, blues, and purples. Yet it’s a fine line, because if you encompass too many of these markers, you might be read as alternative and straight rather than femme.

I’m privileged to be able to engage with some of this signaling, but I worry. This continually narrowing checklist for Femme Enough excludes loads of self-identified femmes who:

• Can’t afford the cost of expensive makeup, body jewelry, or trips to the salon.
• Don’t have the lifestyle accommodations to commit to body modifications (ex: work in a retail setting in which visible piercings and tattoos can mean losing one’s job).
• Are disabled and can’t wear tight clothing, makeup, or perfume daily.
• Are fat, lacking the clothing options to adequately self-express.
• Are women of color, who are excluded from the popular femme aesthetic through little to no representation and the constant privileging of whiteness.
• Are trans, who face a transmisogynstic lesbian community, and a very real possibility of violence and even death for presenting femme.

Of course, many people’s experiences overlap these bullet points and spill over into their own lived realities.

While DIY culture has the chance to alleviate some of the cost of maintaining a “visible femme” look, putting so much capital into femininity actually works to erase the working-class roots of butch and femme identities. And while I think it’s important for communities to be able to see one another, perhaps we can make a stronger commitment to honor and support whoever claims femme. And as femmes at Smith -- especially at Smith, where trans women are just now able to apply on the basis of self-identification -- it’s our very real responsibility to lift up and be allies to our trans sisters.