Jenessa was in town last night, which meant theory of the queer, psychoanalytic and postmode
Happy that Heather had a fun birthday and sad that Amy and her boyfriend broke up, we moved onto feminism—or maybe we were talking about reality TV, I can’t remember—and I complained, “I hate it when women try to call breast implants a feminist act. Like, ‘I did it for me,’ as if that makes everything okay.”
Jenessa stuck out her belly and gave it a Buddha-like rub. “This is a feminist act.”
We agreed that T-shirts bearing this proclamation needed to be printed. They could sell in the back of Bitch, right next to ads for The Keeper. Did I mention we were in line at a bakery when we were having this discussion? I ate a feminist chocolate-dipped apricot shortly thereafter.
Speaking of queer theory—or rather queer fiction, which is actually really different from and sometimes even antithetical to queer theory—Blithe House Quarterly, the online magazine I co-edit, is seeking submissions for its Spring 2007 issue. If you’re a queer fiction writer, I hope you’ll read the guidelines and submit.