Knowledge runs down.

Her latest video, “The Feminine urge to Internalize the Male Gaze, unpacking desirability emoji I can’t think of | Khadija Mbowe,” opens with, “So I have been embracing dressing a bit more quote unquote masculine when I go out in public. But I’ve noticed, ever since I ssztarted dressing more masculinely, I don’t get as much… squeeee attention from men.” Khadija then chants I’m sorry I’m sorry as fake bombs take out her location for the crime of being an ungrateful feminist.

If there’s one thing I’ve laid my feminist chops on, its how I feel about body hair. And today, right now!, I am living my maximally rebellious life by not shaving for shit. Leg hair, on. Arm hair, glorious. Toe hairs, sprouting. Mustache, ON.

(Okay except for the dark hairs betwixt my brows – those guys get the guillotine weekly.)

BUT! When I am lying down on FaceTime, talking to me incroyable long-distance partner, you can see the shadow of the mustache hairs! On my face! And if I’m wearing glasses? And my face is all smushed against the pillow? I do not feel sexy and attractive.

Especially as I lust after his sparkling brown eyes and admire the growth of his beard since we last spoke, I feel concerned I am not giving him the same awesome sexual experience.

My greatest weakness in my dedication to being a hair-bare-ing feminist is my own desire to be HOT by a generic standard. I want random people on the street to walk by and think (but NOT SAY GOOD LORD), “Wow, I wish she were on her knees sucking my cock right now.” Or, “Wow, she would look so good in rope being forced to cum violently again and again.”

BUT! On the other hand, my brain also wishes random people would say, “Wow, what a queer lady! Is she looking at me? Does she think I’m hot? What if I asked her out?? Ugh, I want to lick the milk off her hot, hot lip hairs.”

Worse than random people on the street, I want men I go on dates with to think, “Wow, hottie. Maybe we can have deep philosophical discussions AND passionate kinky sex.”

I don’t want men to view or consider my mustache. I want women to lust after it. Enbys, ignore or favor as you wish. Just don’t talk to me about it.

It is a bit of a flag, having a mustache as a femme. It says, “Alert! Queer/alt person who won’t fuck with your sexist or transphobic bullshit!” Which is a message I favor spreading.

And 90% of the time I do think I’m hot with my lil mustachio hairs. It’s just the damn FaceTime.

Think twice about long-distance, folx. You might have an existential crisis about your morals every time you look your phone in the face.

Oh, shit. I bet someone else would have this crisis daily. I just don’t take pics of myself regularly.

Plz forgive the quality of sentence and logic. I have strep and my brain is at half-mast and I don’t have the wherewithal to edit or refine.

Love and post-nasal drip,
Jordie