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14 january 2002

My one-woman play is coming up soon! Get info and a downloadable PDF for Girl Next Door Runs Amok.

chemistry

I belong to a few listserves, most of which I don't check very often. I receive their messages at one of my secondary addresses, and am always greeted with a Cornucopia of spam, dozens of "hooray for you!" responses to one or two legitimate posts, and more spam.

One of today's messages, however, almost made me wet myself.

Even though I'm inactive in the performance poetry community, I do receive the women's-only list. I've tried to unsubscribe a few times, but my requests always bounce back. So every couple of weeks, I'll check in and clean up.

Unfortunately, this women's only list doesn't appeal to me much these days. Over time, it has morphed into more of a political forum than one of literature. It obviously suits the needs of most active members, so who am I to quibble? The only posts to which I pay attention are the ones announcing new open mics, or other literary opportunities. I also like hearing when someone has published or received an award. Other than that, I get worn out "discussing" things online. I spend so much of my workday at a computer, that the last thing I need is more cyber-conversation. I'll take a beer and a breathing person, thanks.

Tonight, I opened one of my latest messages. It announced a new open mic and performance stage for women in another part of the country. Cool, I thought. Good for them. As an added bonus, proceeds from the event go to women's charities. Excellent!

Then I caught a glimpse of the name.

Come on out and perform at GEN-ESTRO!

Isn't that the name of a new osteoporosis drug? I swear I saw the commercial last week.

Alas, I'm sure I disappoint my die-hard feminist friends today. But I am compelled to take a stand on events named after hormones. Perhaps it's just me getting a wee bit older. My formerly knee-jerk Hoo-rah! at anything remotely feminist is less jerk and more stroll these days. I'm certainly all for women-only spaces. I belong to one myself right here in town.

I like it. It's not named after something my ob-gyn would prescribe.

North Carolina used to be full of men's only clubs, bars, and gathering spaces. We still have the requisite Moose, Elk, and Mason lodges. We also have billiards clubs and pubs where there are always more men than women. But never have I seen one named "Testosto-Lodge", "Cave of Sperm", or "The Erector Set". Men's gathering places are named after big, hairy animals with horns who honk and grunt. End of story. Easy to remember, easy to spell.

Why don't women do the same? Feminists are tough. I say we name our spaces after dinosaurs.

For vegetarians: the Brachiosaurus Room. Kind. Gentle. Will step on you if you get out of line. Or Tyrannosaurus Nexus: The crossroads of anger and appetite. Eat all you want, ten percent PMS buffet discount. For chatty types, we've also got VelocoRap. Everyone's talking, no one's listening, and men are roasting on open skewers. Dinner at 6.

I'm tired of being reduced to my chemicals. I'm a whole gal. With teeth.