Manifesto

I used to claim trainwreck. Still do, It’s in part of proud reclamation, an attempt to be shameless, an attempt to surpass caring about judgements about the particular ways someone might mistake going out or spilling over as the true excess and (almost)trainwreck of my muchness.

I don’t need to feel that shame, I know that the thing that is really too much, the thing that is always the disaster in waiting isn’t the part that i love, enjoy, work hard to resist the shame of performing. It’s not the femme, or the dancing, or the adornment, or the excess and decadence of gesturing towards hedonism.

Though also, are any of these really not entangled?

Disaster femme is trainwreck embraced. Disaster femme is chosen hot messness.

It’s a femme in dialogue with the messiness of corporeality, of desire, of performance, of neediness, of wetness, of feelings felt and let rise to the overwhelmed.

Disaster femme is about what it might feel like and look like and be enacted like to embrace catastrophe.

To look at the ways femininity, bisexuality, queerness, feelings, makeup are about being too much, about being terrifying as being about something always about to go wrong, already going wrong, always worrying about something going wrong.

This is about choosing wrongness.

I am wrong I am off the rails I am too much and I am feeling and I am being and I am doing.

I am a mess — but it’s chosen. I got this, this is me. It’s about the way disaster can be intentional, be a force of nature in and of itself. I’m a terrifying disaster monster, and i’m free to do myself up big and legendary and feel so much, share so much, want so much, want to ruin everything in my way. I am that, I am controlling that.

I am in dialogue with these urges, this messy leaking feeling storm of a body, of a life.

I don’t pretend to be good at this, the point is not to be good.

The point is to figure out the best way to fall apart to explore all the feelings of falling apart to be monstrous in my embodiment in my embrace of vulnerability and power and feeling and body and terror. It’s about the elision between disastrous and disaster between trainwreck and tornado. Is a monster a disaster? only to those who create it, those who get in its ways.

Disaster femme is about all of these things. Disaster femme for smudging your overdone makeup and staining your clothes, Disaster femme for sleeping for a week, Disaster femme for crying, Disaster femme for visible hickies and bruises, Disaster femme for getting too drunk b/c this is for you, Disaster femme for continuously keeping going like a storm like a creature, Disaster femme for sex in parks Disaster femme for leaking too much trauma Disaster femme for yelling back Disaster femme for not being able to Disaster femme for being able to see and feel all the narratives around you and refuting them Disaster femme for tears in yr leggings Disaster femme for believing in the power and the horror in feeling so so so so much and being so so so much

Disaster femme for all of that and still being still performing still choosing still together.

Disaster femme for the contradiction & the power in it.

Let your makeup smudge, don’t cover up your bruises, carry too many things with you and still be forgetting something, stay up too late, leave your sex toys out, take too many classes, refuse to shut up about utopia or trauma, refuse to stop doing too much. Read more than you should, start showing up in your life and let it feel hard and powerful and overwhelming. Embrace overwhelming.

Let your process show to the right people in your path, to yourself sometimes.

Let your process show and let it leave a wake. You will leave a wake. You are a storm and the path the storm leaves.