2005
A View on Women for Women in the New Millenia
I want a girl who can wear a thong under her boxers. A sweet faced revolutionary with hair unconventionally short by only her own definition. A grrl who roles mean nothing to; who can grind with me, and salsa. Who can clean when I cook, or the other way around. A butch who can strut around in stilletos along with her boyshorts. A femme who’s a feminist chauvinist in all the right places. A boi who doesn’t understand what the words the community uses for our gendered selves mean. A dyke with figurative balls almost as big as my own. A drag king who is okay with being my queen. Someone who understands that all that is a metaphor, and that sometimes you have to read between the lines — even when the lines are composed of Braille. Someone who can challenge me and be challenged by me. Someone I can destroy, and be destroyed by. Be rebuilt according to one another. A photographer, a musician, a wordsmith. An athlete, a comedienne, a contradiction. A lover, a fighter, a dreamer. All of these things and none of them. A surprise. A lover who can keep me on my toes and balance me there, yet catch me when I fall — and respect when I choose to catch myself, or choose to hit the ground. Who can adore me for similar reasons. A woman I haven’t met yet. Any woman I meet. Because in truth I want none of these things. I will know what I want when I meet her.
by toni riot
