The Queer Femme Manifesto

She giggles. "Of course 'we'!"

You're okay with that. You're just fine with her at your side.

You sing along with the first song that plays.

XLI.

This Is Love

You wanted to ask her where you two were at after everything. If she realized that you were no good for her like you feared that you would eventually let slip. The way she pampers you silences those fears.

She does your hair far nicer than you do, letting it fall free of your customary pigtails. She carefully shaves you, washes the dirt off your face, puts a little concealer on you, and cleans out and paints your nails. These are things you can do on your own, but she's far better to you than you have ever been. She's far kinder than she used to be- when you first became friends, she was all about instructing the baby queer (despite being just younger than you). Now, it's something that she doesn't say, but that you can feel, that loves you in her own way.

You ask with a blush if you can use her body shaver while taking a shower. She giggles and says "of course" and adds with a cheekier laugh that she just washed it out today. When you blush deeper, she full-on cackles.

You enter the bathroom alone and quietly cry in the chipped-away bathtub.

You tend to forget too quickly what it's like to be treated like a human being.

XLII.

Here With Me

Not much needs to be said.

Night falls as you crawl onto Esther's bed. Sally's probably still out doing god-knows-what for a good time as she has for the past few years. Esther says she doesn't expect her to come home, but her eyes give away the implication. Her mom doesn't like having visitors and seems to think Esther needs rest far more often than she does.

You sit next to her and she leans into your shoulder. You ask if she's okay, and she giggles. Then it gets somber and she thanks you for giving her time.

"I think I know what I wanna do now."

You let her lead the kiss. You're so used to it with other women that you don't know why you didn't let her lead before. She's soft, cautious, and nervous, but you prove yourself.

Somewhere along the way, your kisses get breathier and your skin heats up. Her arms find her way around your neck through your red hair and you place one hand behind her head and the other on her face. When she lets out a small moan, mouth shuddering into yours, you realize that things are about to get far more serious than you ever expected so soon after everything.

Okay, maybe now you should talk.

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "I trust you."

"Still?"

She thinks for a second. "You still stopped when I told you to. You just... needed to know what I need you to do."

"The lead's all yours, babe."

She giggles and the two of you fall against the bed, your hair splaying on the surface in every direction. "Just... cut me some slack," she admits, hand on her skirt. "I've never done this before..." She giggles again, her blush consuming her.

"The way you're embarrassed at the very idea of sex, I can tell," you respond with a playful smirk.

She lightly hits your chest. "Give me a break, Carly! I didn't know this was gonna happen today!"

"You knew enough to wash your shaver," you tease. You probably didn't use it as well as she would have hoped but... oh well, her problem now.

She laughs madly again. "Okay, just because I didn't expect it doesn't mean you don't plan for everything!"

"Babe," you whisper with as much heat in your breath as you can manage as she perches over you. "You were really hoping, weren't you?"

Esther smiles cheekily, but hell, she's very embarrassed. You can tell. You'd go easy on her anyways but seeing her... you wanna make this experience worth it. This isn't some late night romping. This is not one of the women at bars you don't care about getting freaky and careless with. You're in too deep for that.

"I'm very determined, Carly," she replies into your skin.

Your heart skips, and you know exactly where the blood is going, so you wrap your arms around her neck and let it happen.

"Trust me, babe, I know."

XLIII.

Fade Into You

She leans into your own neck abruptly. Her words are steam that opens up the pores to your skin. "Gorgeous. You're so gorgeous. You're the one I want." Her sweet talk is clumsy yet authentic, just like her. You're definitely getting hard underneath the sweats you're wearing, but you're not gonna be a flushed mess with her. Someone has to be the mature one. With a small peck on your collarbone, she adds "The one I've wanted for so long."

"I have been?" you mumble lamely, but try to mask it as coolness.

"You never noticed?" Esther asks, perking up. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Later," you respond, rushed. You'll have all the pillow talk in the world to compare your useless lesbian stories.

She giggles. "Okay. Don't wanna distract."

"Dork," you respond. Adorable, you mean.

You get back to the task at hand and wrap your legs around her, waiting for her to feel your dick against her thigh. When she does, the animal in her comes out, and she grinds against your waist, kissing your skin so deeply you barely have time to remove clothes and make yourself accessible- though she certainly helps, and you're more than fine with that.

In between undressing, you work on her clothes because she'll probably forget to. You ask her every time if it's okay when you remove an important article of clothing, to the point where she says "Stop asking, boo, all right? Just do it."

"If you say so," you mumble wolfishly, unbuckling her bra just fast enough for her to flash you. "Oh my god," you blurt upon seeing her. You've found yourself staring at her boobs ever since you met, as hormones and eventual cosmetic surgery grew them out. However, they've always been clothed, not... this, which you absolutely have fantasized about before but never expected to actually experience. Holy shit, you muse between short breaths. This is happening.

Esther cackles. "'Oh my god'? Have you, like, ever seen boobs before? I thought I was the virgin here."

You want to whine that this is important, but you don't want to admit that yet, so you say "Oh, shut up and fuck me, will you?"

Just as fast as she cackled, she stops, hands at her hips as she shimmies her panties down. "Okay, okay," she says, licking her lips. Either it's sincere or she read somewhere that licking your lips during sexy times was hot. It's not, but it's doing it for you

She kicks her panties off her feet, and they land by the dresser. Her dick has been ravaged by hormones, but you're experienced enough with your fellow trans to cope- and what you don't know, you can coerce out of her. Whatever it is, she wants it- she's panting in anticipation more than you and you can already feel her preparing to go down on you, kissing your disappointingly flat, hormone-starved chest and working her way lower. You feel her tits brush against the skin of your waist and the head of your dick, and can confidently say that you're touch-starved as well, because that alone could make you nut.

You rock your hips in anticipation and whisper "Well? Ain't you gonna?"

She does. Oh, does she.

You hold her hair firmly yet gently at once, pushing her into you, whispering her name over and over- all the shit you've heard is passionate, but never really intended to do until she touched you and threw all your plans out the window. Oh, god, oh my god, Esther, Essy, Ess, Ess, Ess...

Somewhere along the way, you lose the plot. You lose yourself in her touch, in her name. The welcome thing is, you don't mind.

XLIV.

I Really Like You

"You've always liked me?"

"From just after we became friends, yeah."

"That soon? I'm barely able to grasp that you like me at all."

"You didn't notice? I wasn't really very subtle, Carly"

"Babe, I've been crushing on you for years now; if anything I was less subtle."

"Oh my god. Scarlett! How did I miss it?"

"Probably because one of us is useless and one of us is hopeless and I haven't figured out who is who."

"Oh my god, can we be both? Let's be both."

"Sure, babe. We definitely can."

"Mmm... You're just so snuggly."

"I'm as flat as a brick wall."

"Pfft, like it has to do with that. Your whole... ergonomics. And the way you hold onto me. And the... the fact that it's you..."

"You seriously like me that much?"

"Seriously, boo, I just slept with you and you're asking me that?"

"Hey, I'm a lesbian. You could have fooled me for years after."

"Sure, sure."

"...Just, I... I wasn't, like... an easy choice, right Ess? Like... I genuinely think you're amazing. Like, that's honest. A little too honest, maybe, but that's how I am. I just... I'm so angry, I'm so toxic, I'm so fucked up... I just..."

"Scarlett? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I just... I really can't comprehend this."

"It's okay if you're having a low moment, Carly."

"Yeah... yeah. Even right now?"

"Even right now. I think now's the time we say everything we mean to anyways."

XLV.

Bravado

"I think I was curious about you from the start. And once I fell for you... well, I don't have crushes on many people. I just talk a lot of game. It's how I take control of myself. But even as heavy as crushes are, they go away, right? And you were trying to push me away, what with all your yelling and everything. I was just..."

"Stubborn as shit?"

"Probably, honestly. And... I think you started to trust me more. And that... just made me like you more. But when I did trust, you were... so nice. You didn't mind that you had to help me do things. You didn't mind that you had to calm me down from my outbursts. You didn't mind that I kept guiding you to do things that were hard for you. And you didn't mind that those things were hard for me too. You were mad at the world but so nice to me... a-and I was scared if I-I ever did anything to... t-to jeopardize it..."

"Essy..."

"L-look... I know my mom makes mistakes. I know I'm alone too much. I'm trying to get used to being this sick an adult all the time. And... even though I try to maintain my friendships and go to meetings and do good things for myself, they're so functional. You're like one of the only things I tried to, you know... do on my own. To really invest in. To make a part of my life."

"And now you've made me yours."

"Kinda funny how that happened, right?"

"Pssh. Like you didn't put in work to make that happen."

XLVI.

Recite Remorse

When you wake up, you feel her presence, but she isn't pressed against you like she was last night. You don't have a damn clue as to why until you look over her shoulder and see her bare back, ribs exposed, looking into your open backpack.

Oh. Is that all?

Then it hits you.

"Scarlett," she starts to ask.

"I'm sorry-"

"W-why are there so many clothes a-and... and a sl-sleeping bag in this?"

She turns to you, begging you not to say what she's afraid you're going to say.

You have to say it.

She's still crying a few minutes later. She's so angry and hurt, and this is everything you didn't want. Life is just this way for you.

"I just wish you had told me," she says between tears.

"I didn't want you to feel bad or anything," you explain. "Things were complicated between us, and I didn't wanna make anything weirder-"

"But even if we never got together, I'd still be your friend!" she all but yells, stunning you into silence. She lets out another sob and says "I'm so sorry."

You shake your head. "No, I getcha."

She wipes her tears. As the source of her grief, you really should do that for her. "I think... what I meant was, you can rely on me. No matter what. I'm your friend and now I'm your lover. We're a team. We're, like..." she closes her eyes. "We're both queer. We're both trans. We're both lez. You know, we know what it's like, even if we live different lives. And... " She drops off. "Yeah."

You take her hand again. "Essy, look at me, okay?" She slowly complies, but you can tell that it hurts her. "We're hitting real shit now," you say. "It's not all going to bars and dreaming about college. It's... shitty." You stop for a second, but thankfully Esther notices the pregnant pause. "I mean, things were shitty before, but they were simple. There's no easy answer to... all of this."

She nods. "I know, Carly. I know. But we're gonna get through it, right?"

You look at her face. Her olive, almond-shaped eyes, her chin-length black hair faded between dye jobs, her little button nose, her dimples and freckles by her lips, and her shaky little smile that always follows an unfinished statement but is somehow the strongest thing you've ever seen.

You don't believe in forever.

You just believe that the two of you are here right now, and that's a lot.

XLVII.

Perfect Places

You don't sleep at her place every night. You two work that out from the start and acknowledge it. Sally hates guests and can barely stand it when she's too sober to recognize that her daughter is not resting up still- and she's sober surprisingly often. You want to ask if she can sneak you in, but the way that Esther speaks in frightened innuendos of her mother's anger keeps the request on your tongue. You won't do that to her, but she might have to stop you from killing Sally one of these days.

You two prepare for when her mother arrives home and you leave before then, your backpack stuffed to the brim with clothing, toiletries, and blankets. There's some money in your pocket to buy food. Esther's insanely generous with her limited wealth, and you try to turn her down to no avail because she's more stubborn than you. She says she's not spending this money so you should have it, but she often forgets that just because you're worse off than her doesn't mean that she's not poor.

She's always been helpful beyond her means.

Sometimes when you burrow into your nest, Esther sneaks out to surprise you during days where Sally is gowed out. When she burrows up at your side, you warn her that even as night approaches, people might look at you two weird, but she's gotten surprisingly fearless about that lately.

Surprisingly handsier as well.

Not that you aren't returning the favor.

When Sally is away- which is unsurprisingly often- it's surprisingly domestic. When you first come in, Esther always cleans you up before anything. You see your reflection gradually change in the mirror and your heart softens with it. She's not the best cook, but years of neglect have forced her to make do. You help when you can but mess up so much that you expect her to tell you to go away, but even though a lot of your escapades end in arguments and tears, you manage to become a decently suitable sous chef.

The two of you spend a lot of time talking and just being near each other as best friends, and almost as much time fucking and laying in the afterglow as lovers long after it dissipates. It's just the former when you're out in public, but the both of you sprinkle in gentle, playful touches of the second that makes you anticipate when Esther's mom leaves again. Her inexperience with sex makes her a middling lover on its own, but she memorizes every touch you buckle under and plays you like a sonata with her fumbling fingers.

Even when Sally's gone, and even when you're clothed, you so rarely leave the comfort of the bedroom. You realize that as rebellious as you think you are, you still crave that safety.

At least you're confident enough to hold hands in public now.

You're finishing out your school term but you doubt that you're applying for another one. No money, no passion, no current aim or declaration in a life that you're barely in control of anyways. You'll figure it out someday, but right now, that's a luxury you haven't been able to afford yet. She's still applying for colleges, but luck isn't on her side.

You two make sure to avoid going to bars. Esther drags you along to a few queer support groups she says she's attending. You don't like half of the women there and you haven't made real friendships with the other half, but no one there engages you in fights and Esther always gets you to calm down.

Eventually, you're able to laugh and crack jokes but you never let your walls down until something about someone saying their parents don't talk to them anymore breaks you and you cry that everyone fucking abandons you. You're surprised that others say they will never abandon you. You aren't sure you believe it, but it's a nice concept. Esther knows you don't include her in everyone that abandoned you and strokes your back, but you still apologize as you leave, which she waves off.

"Those girls," she says about the women, unanimously two-to-thirty years older than her. "Sisters, in some ways."

Sisters. That's such a hard concept to allow yourself to feel. You've always felt like a renegade of an alien species. Not even Esther was like you. You were a complete mess and in many ways you still are. You don't allow yourself to feel like you're part of anything.

Your ultimate goal is to feel like their sister to anywhere near the extent that you feel like Esther's lover.

Somewhere along the line you consciously let go of the fantasy of changing your name. Jezebel is a good name for the concept of you, but Scarlett is the reality of it all. It's something you've worked too damn hard for in order to say it's your name.

You didn't need to work that hard for the name Carly, but now that you have it, it feels more personal than the one you chose.

There's still so much work to go, but you're proud of your names.

XLVIII.

The Story

You knew when coming out that you were trading away the shot at a comfortable ending for a great perhaps. You knew that people like your mother would find your mental illnesses more challenging. You knew that you were advertising your own alienation to others. You knew that you were sacrificing the meager dream of comfort for a shot at a happy ending that you were going to have to work to get.

Looking back now, you didn't expect everything to get this bad, but at the same time, you aren't surprised by it all. Part of you was always waiting for everything to implode on itself, using anger and distance to brace yourself. A lot of people would think you'd sound dramatic, that you're just being a teenager. You're more than that- you're a queer woman who knows the truth.

You're still not where you want to be. You're still not consistently happy. You're still not comfortable when you're waiting for the sun to set on the park benches near your nesting spot. You're not even completely comfortable on the nights where Esther's mom is gone and you stay at her house, bundled up in her bed under the canopy with her in your arms, your flat chest against the curves of her back that you learn to hold more gently. You're often happy near her, then you're with yourself and realize that you're not happy in general. Fears of the ambiguity of the road ahead steal sleep from you too often, on outdoor days or days sneaking into the place you call home.

You're not comfortable yet, but neither is your story over. You're a young, confused, queer trans woman. This is gonna be the hardest time of your life, but you're not going it alone. You have Esther- the reality of Esther, not the concept; your queer co-conspirator-turned-partner in a world that hates you. You're with someone who understands. You're with someone that you fell into hell with- the woman whose learned elegance and organic force of nature inspired you to come out in the first place.