In honor of the high femmes who make me more beautiful every day.
To all in the room who do not trust yourself.
To all who possess as a means to yourself,
To all who build chalices of envy and insecurity,
To all who pour women’s bodies into these chalices for comfort.
To all who burn whatever you do not know well enough to possess:
Here is a body.
Here is a body you drool to occupy. Here is a body you own because you desire. Here is digging out the jewel you buried when you learned violence as a semblance of empowerment to trust yourself,
Here is an invitation:
Here is a trail to what you’re worth
Here is the terror, here is how to hold yourself and how to be afraid, here is how to build jewels, here is how to covet only out of adoration
Here is skin. Here is calves and belly and tattoo, tits and toe cleavage and tattoo, chin up and laughing at you and all kinds of piercing and dangling and hooping and glitter. Here is eyes and lips and lashes, all bright and joking and asking, here is hips turning magic, here is ass flipping, here are cheeks blushed, here is face enduringly laughing.
Here is sex on my feet skipping up my legs. Here is a heel that chagrins you. You so self-deny or self-pride your XXX, here is a heel you play at ignoring because you fear how it feels to ignore it in your collarbone or your abdomen.
Here is how heels shut you up
When, for the first time in your life, you’re aware that your mouth is open. When you are saying the same thing over and over thinking it’s all so needed to say, when your violence doesn’t build your castle of trust, when your castle is starving and your lack only pictures heels. Calves, tattoo, tits and hooping and tattoo and glitter, all laughing at you.
This room is for us.
This is an invitation.
This room is for fear, frenzy, admiration, awe, young excitement. Feelings you are used to acting out of, not acknowledging. Lay down your head here. Rest. Make comfort while your pour your own body. Own and desire it.
We’re going out tonight, you’re coming with us.
It’s best if earrings dance onto your body, knife into what people make you, make sundaes out of ice.
It’s best if your miniskirt builds an ass you want everyone to appreciate.
It’s best if your nails answer “how are you?” better than your mouth can.
We do our beauty whenever (the fuck) we need it.
Dress so that you’re sure to XXX XXX exactly the right person in exactly the way you never imagined.
Dance the way you’re proud to be out with us. Because you deserve to be someone we’re proud of. Dance as someone who deserves.
XXX by someone whose dance earns their way through your earrings. XXX XXX.
Whose beauty licks off your heels and massages your feet.
Who kisses your tears and builds you a chalice as beautiful as you to catch the next tears.
Who inspires your body to paint a portrait of pleasure we’re all proud of.
In the morning, make your lover breakfast and promise them your call will be as much candy as their next sight of you.
Think of what you’ll wear for them for the rest of your day.
When you come running to me, fraught for help, I’ll tell you:
It’s best if we do this together.
It’s best if you cry any uncertainty out because you’re too good to question yourself today.
Hold me the way you want to be held and see how it works?
Here is a body you find in yourself.
Here is how you make a relationship that creates you better and better.
Here is sex skipping up your legs, here is how you make fun of what ice you used to shiver in when heels made you so XXX and you’d never worn them.
Here is satire that does beauty we deserve.
Here is power that gives.
Here you’re unconquered.
Now make something you’re worth.
Kris Gebhard, PhD 