The Dolly of it All

 In the novel We Sold Our Souls, there is a moment where two characters with very strong opinions about music spend a long time trying to find anything they can both listen to without one of them seething. The only musician they can agree on is Dolly Parton. They put her music on, and both of them become happy. That was how it worked with Dolly.

Dolly wrote in a way that was true, open, vulnerable, and raw. All of it was delivered with a remarkable emotional clarity. She wrote about love with a self-reflective honesty that examined flawed patterns without judgment and invited listeners to choose better for themselves. She wrote about poverty in a way that was frank and real without ever being exploitative. She did not romanticize hardship. She dignified the struggle, the resourcefulness, and the strength of those who lived through it.

At the same time, Dolly used what she had to create pathways for people who were struggling. Millions of children own their favorite book because of her Imagination Library. She believed that fortune meant making a difference in as many lives as possible.

Dolly had a body shaped in a way that was automatically sexualized by the culture around her. I cannot say how this affected her private thoughts. What I do know is that she transcended that labeling so completely that she reclaimed any image or branding that might have been used to diminish her. Whenever someone tried to reduce her to her very obvious bust size, her response was essentially, “Oh yeah, hon. Sure. Now that we have that out of the way, look at all this other amazing stuff I can do.”

And that amazing stuff included a voice that sounded like sunlight reflecting golden on a flowing stream. It included writing iconic songs. It included playing multiple instruments. It included collaborations with other musicians. It included acting in several beloved and culturally significant roles. It included writing a Tony-nominated musical. It included a wig line and various lifestyle brands. It included business ventures, including Dollywood, a theme park that people adore.

Dolly was not naturally blonde. In her private life, she did not dress like a music star. The big blonde hair and the elaborate costumes were for her public appearances. She did this so she could keep her private life private and her loved ones safer. This says a great deal about her thoughtfulness and her sense of personal responsibility.

And that public persona carried a very specific energy. Dolly exuded joy. Dolly exuded acceptance. Dolly exuded a sense that you were welcome and that she saw the good in you.

Now we live in a world without her. That reality is profoundly sad. She leaves behind a legacy of actions that made the world better. That is amazing and rare. It is especially remarkable considering she was once an eighteen-year-old poor kid stepping off a Greyhound bus in Nashville with no idea how things would turn out but with a great deal of faith in her own abilities. We are all fortunate that the young woman who arrived in Nashville believed in herself.

Goodbye, Dolly. You will be missed. I will always love you.

Breaking the Cycle

 In my private women’s group on Facebook, someone posted about how proud they were that the younger generation of women are no longer tolerating the things that used to be considered normal. They are not tolerating violence, neglect, uselessness, or the lack of connection. It is genuinely wonderful to see. But in the comments, many women my age and older began blaming themselves for staying in bad situations as long as they did.

Since seeing that thread, I have thought a lot about the conversation. Not just about the original post, but about the comments from women asking themselves why they allowed certain things, why they stayed, and why they did not leave earlier. The truth is that leaving damage is incredibly difficult because most of us have a strong sense of hope and faith in people’s ability to change. And when it comes to men, the bar for what needs to change has historically been very low.

This is not a flaw in who we are. It is a flaw built into the system. It is the culture we were raised in, the examples we were given, and the messages sent to us both out loud and silently. Many of us are mothers and grandmothers who actively tell younger women not to repeat the patterns we lived through. We explain why. We talk about the actual damage done. But how many of us had mothers who did that for us. Some. How many had grandmothers who did that. Again, some, but not many.

In my own situation, my mother was essentially a cautionary tale. She moved from one disastrous relationship to another with such consistency that it almost became impressive. It takes effort to find men who do not just slip below the bar of tolerable but sink so far beneath it that they are practically buried in the dirt. I do not blame her for this. I know her history and the abuse she suffered. From my own experiences with mental illness, I understand hers. I know why she self soothed with substances and why she believed she was not worthy of decent partners. I know why she thought that if she could prove she was worth changing for, even to a terrible partner, then maybe she was worthy of love at all.

I have studied pictures of her at nineteen and realized that this is where I began. In this broken, damaged child. Understanding that does not erase or excuse the pain her children suffered, but it does allow me to heal through the situation.

My mother was part of a cycle. A cycle of untreated mental illness passed down through generations. A cycle of manipulation. Her father was, by all accounts, considered a good man. And in many ways he was. He met the basic bar for men and even went beyond it. He worked a steady job, provided for his family, was calm, did not drink or use drugs, and although he smoked, that was not considered an issue at the time. He was soft spoken, steady, and did not create a home full of nervous energy. He was a good Christian, a deacon of his church, helpful, humble, kind, caring, and would never have considered raising a violent hand to anyone. All of these things were true. None of it was fake.

But people are complicated, and another truth existed alongside all of that. He valued his birth family more than the family he created. He bought his parents a home before he built his own. When he finally built his own home, he placed it within a two minute walk of his parents so he could be there at any time. He paid their bills. As advancements happened, his parents received them first. They had indoor plumbing and electricity before his wife and children did. Only when he had additional funds did his own household receive those things. It is strange to think about now, but in rural areas during the 1950s and 60s, this was still common.

He bought cars for his parents and his sister whenever they needed one. Always. Without fail. And while that may still sound generous, it came at a cost. His wife and children were always last on the list, and it was not only that they were last. My grandmother had to cook for his parents, clean for them, run their errands, and take them places. She essentially ran two households and was not compensated for any of it.

When my uncle was eight or nine, he was sent to work at the general store his grandfather owned. The store was across the street, so he walked over after school and worked until eight every night, then worked full shifts on weekends. He was not paid. This continued for roughly eight years.

When my grandfather’s father died in the early 1960s, his mother asked for companionship. In response, my grandfather sent my mother to live with her. For some people, living with a grandmother would have been ideal. I wish it could have been that for my mother. It was not. It was servitude. My grandmother still did most of the domestic labor in her mother in law’s home, but my mother did the rest. Until she was around twelve, she was not required to cook, but she had to serve meals and wash everything afterward. She had to keep the house spotless. She once told me that her grandmother would walk through the house several times each evening, and if anything was out of order, my mother would be hit.

Her grandmother was verbally and physically violent. Often. Viciously. And my grandfather knew this. He allowed it. He created the situation that made it possible.

So was he a good man. Yes. No. It is true that his parents raised him to value them first, but at some point, when you see bruises on your child’s legs, something inside you should recognize that the situation must stop.

My point in telling this story is that my grandmother saw the patterns. She spoke up about how wrong the situation was. She did so often and loudly. For her efforts, she was labeled a nagging woman. And nothing changed.

When I was born, and the abusive grandmother died in the same year, my grandmother made decisions. She spoke to me about how things worked. She did not simply suggest that I choose differently. She insisted on it. I was fortunate to have someone who told me directly that the patterns could and should be broken. Not everyone gets that.

Modern girls walk away now. They do not allow certain behaviors to begin in the first place. They do not fear being alone because they understand that alone, for women, is often another word for peaceful and quiet. They understand that alone is misleading anyway, because people can have friends, family, roommates, and even their own children without involving a walking red flag in the matter.

They understand these things because they grew up with the message, spoken and unspoken, that they have personal value that does not depend on others. They learned that they have the right to safety, comfort, and peace. They learned that they are enough on their own.

You who raised the next generations deserve credit for telling them that the cycles should be broken. You showed them the beauty and value of independence and freedom. You worked hard to find your own healing, footing, and sense of self. I commend all of you for that.

TL;DR: We were shaped by the generations before us, but we are the ones who shape the future.

Sacrifice and Also Pie

 When I was a kid, I was taken to church every Sunday.

It was a very small church, so for a long time we only had services on Sunday morning.

I liked our preacher. In many ways, he was one of the better masc role models I had. But there were some places where he and I fundamentally did not agree.

He used to tell this story about pie. He actually told it pretty often.

In this story, the family is poor. The father does paid labor. The mother does all of the unpaid labor.

The preacher didn’t put it in those terms, of course. He said, “The dad works. The mother stays at home.”

But we all know that isn’t the reality of what was going on. He did labor that paid him. She did labor as well and received no compensation for it.

Anyway, in this story, the family has a pie for an after‑dinner treat. And the preacher would always say, “There were six people in the family. There were only five slices of pie. But… the mother said she really wasn’t that hungry anyway.”

This story was used to demonstrate the value of domestic sacrifice. It was used to praise the kind of woman he felt women should be. In his mind, her declining the pie was noble.

In my mind? Her declining the pie was bullshit.

First of all, she baked this pie. Meaning she knew how many people were in the family and what level of pie distribution needed to be happening. She would have also been the one to cut the pie. And you know what? It’s a lot easier to slice a pie into six pieces evenly than it is to slice it into five.

I guess it’s possible she did slice it into six pieces and someone else ate one of the slices already, but that still does not justify her not eating any pie. Logically, the person who ate the slice beforehand should have been the person denied pie. And if said person was her husband, who thinks that because he is a man he should get two slices of pie when everyone else gets one, then the moral of the story is “wow, so that guy’s a jerk,” not “ohhh mama’s sacrifice.”

Maybe she already ate the slice of pie, and now she’s acting like she’s sacrificing something to be dramatic and make everyone feel weird. Odd, but honestly kind of iconic in a way. Though I certainly doubt that’s what he meant.

Clearly, his point was that it’s noble when women sacrifice for their children. And I’m saying women because I don’t remember him ever telling a story where there were five bites of steak left and Daddy said he wasn’t that hungry. Some level of equity would have been nice.

Do people who opt to give birth and keep those children have an obligation to them? Yes. Those kids didn’t ask to be alive, and you’re the one who tossed them into that situation. So until they’re grown, you have a responsibility to them.

HOWEVER, that responsibility does not include erasing yourself. It does not include denying yourself. It does not include losing every moment of pleasure you might experience at the expense of others.

Do these responsibilities include resource delegation? Yes. Are there times when that is a very, very dire thing? Having read many a book about people in dire circumstances, I know it certainly can be.

Does that apply to pie? Given that if we can have pie, we’re probably not quite at the level of dire yet?

Nope. No it does not.

Eat your damned slice of pie. Everyone deserves moments of pure happiness.

Scent of the Day

 I do not wear scent in a neutral way.

There is nothing wrong with doing so, of course, but for me, scent should be another level of communication. Scent is a statement, an introduction, perhaps a couple of questions.

For this reason, I rarely wear just one scent at a time. I prefer to stack scents to create something new, something else.

This is my basic formula:

Mysterious: I want something that wakes up the imagination, something that opens a memory or perhaps makes you consider something that you cannot quite put your finger on.

Genderless: I want something neutral, almost masc leaning, something rich and textured with liquors and the scent of rain on stones, pepper or cedar or fun spices.

Femme: My flower layer, my sweeter citrus layer. Traditional, yes, but given everything else, it is tradition with a massive bend to it.

Provocative: This is the layer for all the scents that are there to excite. The scents that make you smirk for just a second. The scents that intrigue.

So what does that mean for today?

Mysterious: Korres Kyma spray

Top Notes: Lime, mandarin, and orange Heart Notes: Marine notes, watery accords, and pepper Base Notes: Cedar, vetiver, and nutmeg

Kyma has been my find of the summer. It is honestly my favorite scent at the moment. Somehow the citrus top notes and those watery middles combine to become something that evokes watermelon on a summer day. It makes me think of dragonflies and butterflies. I truly love it.

Genderless: Heretic Nosferatu spray

Top Notes: Lilac, Ambrette Heart Notes: Petrichor, Violet Absolute, Orris Concrete, Cypriol Base Notes: Vegan Ambergris, Oud, Labdanum

Normally I do my genderless layer with a rollerball, but I only have this in a spray. It works out just as well, though I am sure this would be an amazing rollerball scent. This is a rich mix of very beautiful things, but what stands out on my skin is the petrichor and the vegan ambergris. Petrichor, for me, is sunlight on wet stones after a storm. Vegan ambergris is an ethical chemical compound that to me is the basis of everything I love about gender neutral scent. Like the first layer, this layer is wet and sunny and fun.

Femme: Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue spray

Top Notes: Sicilian Lemon, Crisp Apple, Cedar, Bellflower Heart Notes: Bamboo, Jasmine, White Rose Base Notes: Cedarwood, Musk, Amber

If I am honest, I will admit this is a layer with more practical intentions and less aesthetic intention. I have a small sample of the D and G that I have promised myself I would get through this month. It is one of three very small samples that I have. They need to be used, enjoyed, and moved on.

Having said that, I am not upset about how this layers with everything else. I have a running citrus theme with a lot of the rest of this, and other elements like the cedar, musk, and amber also layer well. The bellflower adds a sense of dewiness that works with the other water layers I have going on, and the apple adds a fun, crisp contrast. I think I liked that the most.

Provocative: Skylar Lime Sands rollerball

Top Notes: Lime, Sea Salt, Verbena Heart Notes: Lily of the Valley, Coconut Water, Orange Flower Base Notes: Driftwood, Vanilla, Musk

In this case, my provocation layer is about lime and salt. Add the vanilla, coconut water, verbena, which is lemony, and the orange flower, and you get something heady and sour-sweet in all the best ways. Driftwood adds a layer of sun-bleached wood and earthiness, plus extra salt to support the sea salt. Lily of the Valley is sweet but still lemon-leaning, giving this whole layer a very cohesive theme.

In the end, what do I get?

A watermelon margarita by the lake on a sunny day after a rainstorm. A relaxed, happy, lazy day where the sun casts pretty highlights in your hair and makes your skin feel glowy and good. It is a lovely, rich stack and I am deeply pleased with it.

Beauty Lessons in Reflection

 Today I am canceling my IPSY subscription. I have enough product to last for quite a while, and continuing would only mean giving in to FOMO. I shall not do that. I shall use down the products I have and then perhaps consider subscribing again.

As this was, at its core, a quest to learn more about cosmetics and skincare, I think it’s a good idea to reflect on what I actually learned and discovered. Let’s discuss.

1. Blush is my best friend
Because I always valued a goth pallor and loathed the natural red in my cheeks, I avoided blush when I was younger. In my 50s, I find that if I stick with the old routine, I look rather dead. I mean, goth-dead, yes, but not in the way I’m going for. Blush helps a lot with that, giving me actual liveliness while still emphasizing the pallor I want.

2. Bronzer
Along the same lines, I stayed away from anything that would darken my face, even at the edges. But I’ve found that the right bronzer (in my case, very light ones) can make you look stunning and beautifully glowy. In fact, if my skincare is doing what it’s supposed to do, some days I just add a small touch of bronzer and go out like that. It works surprisingly well.

3. Minimum coverage foundation
It’s ironic that when I was younger and had stunning skin, I could apply a thick layer of Pale as Possible foundation and look fine. I probably didn’t even need it. These days, foundations that do the smallest amount of blurring are best for me. Once you reach a certain age, you want to look like a living person, and you definitely don’t want foundation caking in your wrinkles. Very light foundations help with that. Bonus: many of them are moisturizers with SPF.

4. Setting spray
Ah, the varnish level of makeup. It’s not actually that thick, but it does help things stay in place longer (which for me is still not that long) and helps the whole look make more sense.

I started with a cheap setting spray, which was serviceable. Eventually I received a higher-end one from IPSY, and that made a noticeable difference.

5. Primer
I cannot express this strongly enough: if you are a person of a certain age and your makeup just isn’t working, invest in a good primer. Skin prep is key. And this isn’t just about putting it on. It’s about putting it on and waiting while it sinks in. Give it time. Yes, this means budgeting a little more time for your routine, but letting your primer set will save you time later because you won’t be fretting over how weird everything else looks.

6. Toner
Toner was a step I wasn’t sure about before I started using it. Clean your skin, sure, but do we need toner too? Yes. Yes, we do.

Toner not only removes leftover impurities, it also restores pH balance and readies your skin for the next steps. It gives you a level playing field, and that is extremely helpful.

7. Serums and moisturizers
My roommate occasionally comments on how I slather things on my face. And I do. I slather proudly, because my skin has never been happier. Serums serve different purposes depending on your needs. I have many skin needs and use various serums accordingly. I do not do this not all at once, but as I feel drawn to one or another. There is one I use every day because it makes my skin feel and look amazing.

Moisturizing happens during the usual rituals, but also outside of them. My skin can get dry and unhappy pretty often. Adding a little moisturizer helps a lot. It restores bounce, and it’s also a small moment of mood reset and grounding.

8. Toppers
Speaking of mood resets, I’ve come to value eyeshadow toppers. Just a small pop of color on the eyelid brings cheer to the overall look. Some might argue that this is too young for me or unprofessional. I would argue back that it’s not their eyelid, so shut up. Toppers bring me joy and add to the aesthetic I’m going for.

And really? Joy is the key. Whatever you’re doing with these products should make you feel better. Not because you’re complying with beauty standards. Not because you’re performing femme like it’s a duty. But because your senses found something delightful.

If you’re not getting that, explore other products that might.

9. Scent
Speaking of joy, scent has become one of the truest pleasures I discovered in this process.

Between perfumes and scented oils, altering my scent experience can shape my day. A bit of hair mist, a touch on the wrists, or a scented moisturizer on my legs can shift my mood from “why am I continuing?” to “actually, I’m okay.” This has become important to me.

10. Layering scents
I don’t have a signature scent. I have scent moods, scent themes, scent agendas. These are usually achieved by layering something mysterious with something genderless, something femme, and then something a little provocative. Within this, I get what I’m going for. It sets the tone until the scents fade. After that, they’re replaced, perhaps with the same grouping, perhaps with something entirely different.

Further Thoughts

1. Beautiful packaging makes me happy. Moments of happiness matter, and pretty things please me.

2. Just because it’s expensive doesn’t mean it’s better. Do your research.

3. At the same time, just because it’s expensive doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. Again, do your research.

4. Cosmetics are an investment. Handle them with the same level of research, time, and energy as any investment.

5. Beauty routines are about you. This is your skin, your face, your hair, your joy. If it works for you, do it. If it doesn’t, don’t keep doing it just because.

Closing Reflection
The value I received wasn’t just blog fodder. I learned a lot about myself, my skin, my features, and the way they’re changing with time. That will continue. My skin in my fifties will not be my skin in my sixties. My skin right now may not be my skin in a year, especially after having my thyroid removed.

I will always maintain that skincare and makeup routines are not obligations. They are expressions of art. This is about the tending to and decoration of a canvas that moves, changes temperature, alters with environment, and is subject to internal shifts. It is a challenging canvas, and the challenge is always different. Like any art, the artist should create because it pleases the artist.

Pleasure, after all, is far more important than we often allow ourselves to admit.

A Thousand Enemies

 Someone I love has started college.

I am very proud of this person.

Today was this person's first day.

It should have just been a nice celebration of 'first day of school' pictures.

But then someone in the comments had to post a list of

THINGS TO TELL YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THEIR SAFETY

And I'm just.....ughh.

Look.

I know they meant well. I know they want this person to be safe and they want this person to have a happy college experience.

I certainly want that too.

But two things kind of hit me at once about the situation.

The first was that it sucks that we can't go ONE DAY without reminding someone that just because they exist in a certain body, they have to carry an extra burden around when it concerns their own safety.

As I have said before and will continue to say, no one ASKS to be born into the bodies we're born into. The fact that suddenly ALL THE SPECIAL RULES hit is just so frustrating.

But beyond that?

Look. It's roughly one in 1:3. As a person in a femme-presenting body, you have a 1:3 chance of being attacked.
So basically?

Yeah. You can opt not to get into people's cars and you can guard your drinks and bring extra cutlery and keep your keys between your fingers and not take that class because it lets out too late and not take that shift because no one will walk you to your car or not jog or not wear this or not wear that or not do anything or do everything or any of it.

But at the end of the day? It doesn't matter.

People are assaulted because they are within the proximity of a person who CHOOSES to assault them. This act that could alter so much about how you view yourself and view the world boils down to the fact that someone else decided. And you can fight them, bite them, scream at them, do anything you can to stop it, but they still made that choice. And you still have to deal with it.

I wish this person I love wisdom. I wish her speed and agility. I wish her strength and cunning, sharpness and ferocity.

But mostly? I wish that the people around her who have the option to choose harm or not choose harm, opt to do nothing at all, as doing nothing is easy and often the best path when it comes to others.

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

The Self in Parts

 When people talk about dissociation, we often assume they just mean a separation between mind and body. I think for a lot of people, it's deeper than that. It certainly is for me.

I tend to view myself in four parts.

1. There is ME. The mind, the humor, the creativity. The weird stories, the love for my friends and obsessions. The favorites and the opinions and the theories. That's who I really am.

2. There is The Factory-Damaged Interactive Interfacing Unit.....my body. The thing I use to interface with the world that doesn't function the way it should. It often hurts. It grows weird stuff. It gets sick and snotty and it needs so much maintaining. It constantly makes demands for sleep or food or relief of some kind, and it annoys me because it keeps me from doing the stuff I actually want to do.

Now, understand, in my mind, these two aspects do not really connect. They're not the same thing. They're just unfortunately tied together.

3. There is Non-consensual Issued Labeling of The Factory-Damaged Interactive Interfacing Unit.....all the crap I have to deal with that I never asked for that is associated with bodies. Perceived gender, race, ethnic group, culture, where we're born, who we're born to, how much money we're born with, etc.

If I had my way, we could opt out of all of this because no one asked for any of it. It's all just dice rolls, and whatever you get, you suddenly have to deal with through no fault of your own. It's stupid.

It's also frustrating and rather exhausting that I have been harmed by others and almost killed by my body due to these arbitrary factors rather than anything I actually did.

4. Finally, there is the microbiome.....who can be difficult, but I like those guys. As much as my body annoys me in general, I do adore the other creatures that inhabit it. I do not see them as part of me either, but more like billions of neighbors.

IPSY Ultimate August 2026

 Weirdly, my package showed up on Sunday. That's kind of unusual, but here we are. This is my very last IPSY Ultimate until I run out of products.....and that's going to be a while.

Let's get into the haul.

MERIT

Shade Slick Gelée Tinted Lip Oil in Jeté (sheer natural)

Currently, this is sitting comfortably and smugly on my lips. It has a nice warm, soothing feel to it. It does everything a good lip oil should do....which is mostly just make your lips feel really decent. It's doing its job. It's sheer. I am content.

MAKEUP BY MARIO

Master Mascara® in Super Black

Currently unopened and will remain unopened and will be someone's gift more than likely because I just can't with another mascara. Even a good one. No offense to you, Mario, but I just can't do it. You will find a home. It will not be mine.

BEAUTY BIO

Swipe & Glow Peel Pads

After I tried on my actual makeup products, I took everything off and used these. They're pretty great. I'm currently in a situation where I'm at the dregs of a bottle of toner, so using these once a day (recommended not to use them more than that) should help the toner to last longer.

Be careful when you pull them out. I pulled out two by mistake. They're really thin.

ILIA BEAUTY

Skin Rewind Complexion Stick in Aspen 6N

The color works really well. I think it will layer nicely with whatever else I happened to have going on as far as complexion is concerned. It's probably too hot to try and use this right now, but it could be really great this fall.

MUTHA

Up All Night Eye Cream

It looks good, and it does what it's supposed to do. Having said that, be very careful when you pump some out. A very, very tiny amount goes a long way. I had this stupid line of it that I was having to try and use.

NARS COSMETICS

Afterglow Sensual Shine Lipstick in High Gear (Burnished Coral)

Basically? It's your lips but slightly brighter. That's never a bad thing. I'm always very happy with NARS packaging too because it feels very luxe and looks very luxe. Does that matter in the end? You know, usually I say no, but recently I've decided that we all need more beauty in our lives, so, yeah, yeah it matters.

KORRES

Kyma Eau de Toilette

Yeah okay. WOW. It's even better than I expected. It's heavenly really. I knew I was going to like this for the top notes of citrus, especially the lime. What I didn't expect was this stunning back kick of what almost feels like melon. Heart notes on this include marine and watery notes so my guess is that is where the melon suggestion is coming from. I have no idea. I just know I really love this.

INDIE LEE

Stem Cell Serum

This is one of those, well, we'll have to wait and see kind of products, so I'll just give you what first impressions I have. It is...surprisingly snot-like, which is rather unpleasant to rub onto the skin. It's also very difficult to get it into the pipette. You really have to work to make that happen. I'm not fond of this. However, if this does as it claims it does, I may change my mind and consider the process worth it.

So yeah, overall, this isn't a bad month to end on. I only refused one product, and everything else is very good. My favorite is the Kyma. I knew it would be, but I did not realize how MUCH it would be. It's stunning, though. I am a very happy person at the moment.

Lighting my Blunt off the Flames They Use To Burn My Witchy-Self

[Probably Spoilers in this. So yeah, avoid if you don't like them.]

As far back as I can remember, when it comes to femme characters, I always enjoyed the villains more. They had style and flair and a joie de vivre most often absent from other characters. If said production involved singing, they often had the funnest song. They usually had the most iconic costume. Were their motivations stupid? Often. But that was beside the point. Did they get punished? Oh. Almost always, but as Kiki Rockwell said in “Same Old Energy,” 'No matter what the good you did, you'll wind up at the stake.'

As I got older, this enjoyment expanded. Phyllis Dietrichson. Norma Desmond. Martha from “Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” pausing mid-stagger to announce herself a goddess. Amy Dunne.Villanelle. All those soap opera antagonists who married like 15 times. Maeve singing “20 Men from Dublin Town” as they lead her away in handcuffs. Cersei Lannister avenging herself on an entire religion by blowing up their holy temple.

As far as I am concerned, the rest of GoT doesn't exist. The show ended right then. Done. Won.

What the characters I love have in common, more than anything else, is audacity. They have the damned nerve to dress how they want, say what they want, do what they want, love (or not) who they want, do the damage they wish to do, and live as they wish . . . or fight as hard as they can to make that happen. Do they get punished for this? OH. Almost always. But for a while there, it was fun as hell.

Why is this the case for me? I mean, I'm Gen X. These are closer to the perspectives of the women I grew up around. This is Joan Jett singing “Bad Reputation,” Romeo Void singing “Never Say Never,” and the women who would smirk as they tilted their left legs just a little bit more to the left as the street preacher leaned on the fence and yelled at them for sunbathing in their own backyards.

Which is to say, I am so frustrated with the writing of House of the Dragon, specifically with the writing of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Not with the actor who plays the character, but with the writing.

Rhaenyra Targaryen is the only child of the king. That alone should have fused with her spine in such a way that anything she did, she did with confidence and zero apologies. She is also Blood of the Dragon, in a very real way, as she has a connection to a literal massive killy fire creature that can do massive damage. Her family keeps to their old traditions, clearly, meaning she should not be all that affected by the social-shame-conformity cycles that are inflicted on the general population. I mean, even with the characters who did grow up in that, we're seeing more audacity from some of them than we are from her.

Beyond that, this is not a child. This is a woman in her 30s. There is no reason for her to be this unsure about things, this incapable. In this time, as she knew she would have to fight to become queen, she would have established her own spy network, recruited her own propaganda expert, gotten three or four GOOD assassins who knew how to make things happen in such a way that no one even knew it as an assassination, had either alliances and/or blackmail on every lord in the realm, had someone train her to fight, educated herself about how to rule, and lived her life in such a way that showed she was above being questioned.

As for those questions.

Random lord: Who fathered that kid?

Rhaenyra Targaryen: Doesn't matter.

Random lord: Fathers--

Rhaenyra Targaryen: Yeah, okay, Lord Rando, you point out the family that has more status than mine.

Random lord: Uhhh.

Rhaenyra Targaryen: Exactly. My status. My last name. My bloodline. The baby came from my body. Legitimacy comes through me. Now shut up.

Other lord: Who is that man over there?

Rhaenyra Targaryen: My husband.

Other lord: No, that man there is your husband.

Rhaenyra Targaryen: I'm a Targaryen. If I want more than one husband, I have more than one husband. Now shut up, or I'll take your daddy as my third husband. Then I'll be your nightmare stepmama. And from my experience, that means I plot against you and have children to try and take your inheritance.

Eventually, they would have shut up. People can't use something against you if you own it.

Sigh.

Instead, we get an indecisive, whinging, more or less frozen, cringing, shamed, and more or less useless version of her. It's unworthy of the character. It's unworthy of the actor who plays her. And it's very annoying for the audience.

Okay, look, I'm going to talk about her death now, but if you watched GoT, you already heard how she dies, so this is not a spoiler.

My guess is that when they execute Rheanyra, she will be simpering and blubbering and broken. She may beg. She may try to make peace. Or, you know, maybe she will be defeated and just, as usual, do nothing. It will feel hollow and meaningless.

And that sucks.

Because Rhaenyra Targaryen's death should be epic, she should march to the dragon with an arm full of minitarts, popping them in her mouth as quickly as she can. As she eats, she should be singing a song in High Valyrian and dancing. Her hair should be down. She should wear her most iconic outfit. As Aegon makes whatever speech we know he's gonna make, she should just stare him down and continue to pop sweets into her mouth, then give him whatever gesture passes for flipping someone off in Valyrian, give last-minute instructions to her son, and start singing again.

This isn't just satisfying for the character, it's also satisfying for the audience. It isn't rocks falling on your head when you could have moved a foot to the left and not been hit by rocks..........wait, that didn't happen. That season of GoT doesn't exist to me.

Lately there seems to be this tendency to make characters relatable and more like real people. But what are we saying is relatable here? Crying? Disorganization? Failure to plan? Insecurity?

I mean, okay, probably sure that's most people, but is that entertaining?

Characters should be entertaining, distracting, and iconic. I want people who know the rules enough to break the rules. I want people who dig their fingers as deeply into whatever advantages they have and use them as much as they possibly can. I want characters who refuse to be shamed, who create spectacle, who dance as they set the world on fire because they know it's only going to burn them.

I don't know. Maybe the showrunners felt that if they made Rhaenyra Targaryen like this, she'd be less hated by the audience. They should have realized that any femme character is always going to have a level of haters. That's the nature of it. There is, however, a deep and profound freedom in that. When you walk in with disapproval, you're not having to maintain anything. People will change their minds when they see your qualities... or they never would have accepted you in the first place. With the first group, it's a matter of their own personal growth. With the second group? They honestly don't matter. You might as well just find their pearl-clutching amusing as you tilt your left leg farther to the left.

Ideals and Reveals

 Every so often, a piece of internet images reveals more about its creator than its subject. The conservative “Ideal Woman” meme — the one that lists traits like “Only has female friends” “Has No Social Media” and “Hates Communists” — is one of those artifacts. It presents itself as a declaration of values, a bold statement of what a “real man” supposedly wants. But beneath the surface, the meme isn’t a manifesto. It’s a confession.

What struck me when I first saw it wasn’t the usual reaction these prescriptive gender memes provoke...or, you know, try to provoke. I didn’t feel annoyance or 'owned' (typed with an eyeroll), or shame...which I assume is the reaction they wanted, or the reflexive “wow, please announce yourself so I can avoid you.” I certainly didn’t feel the faint sting of comparison — that little internal audit of “am I like this?” or “should I be like this?” Instead, I felt something quieter and more revealing.

I felt the fragility.

Because the meme isn’t about women at all. It’s about fear.

The list reads like a set of constraints rather than qualities. “Only has female friends” isn’t a value; it’s a boundary. “Hates Communists” isn’t a personality trait; it’s ideological insulation. “Modest,” “traditional,” “avoids nightlife,” “loyal,” “predictable” — these aren’t descriptors of a partner. They’re descriptors of a world where the meme maker never has to feel insecure.

The “ideal woman” in this meme is less a person and more a controlled environment. She has no mixed gender friendships, no independent social networks, no exposure to ideas he finds threatening. She is a closed system. A terrarium.

This isn’t strength. It’s hypervigilance.

The meme frames its demands as moral clarity, but psychologically they’re avoidance strategies. A partner with her own life, her own friends, her own political opinions, her own unpredictable human complexity — that’s terrifying to someone who feels fundamentally unsafe in relationships.

So the meme-maker imagines a woman who cannot contradict him, outgrow him, outshine him, or leave him. A woman whose world is small enough that he never has to confront his own inadequacy.

This shows absolutely nothing outside of self-doubt.

The meme is saying: “I need a partner who cannot threaten me.”

That’s not an ideal. That’s a fear response.

What makes the meme fascinating is how confidently it presents itself. The tone is assertive, almost triumphant — as if listing these constraints is an act of masculine authority. But the bravado is paper-thin. Every line reveals a vulnerability the creator is trying desperately to hide.

He believes he’s signaling strength. He’s actually signaling fragility.

He believes he’s describing a woman. He’s actually describing his fears.

He believes he’s setting standards. He’s actually setting limits on what he can emotionally tolerate.

The meme is a fortress built by someone who cannot bear the weather.

If you zoom out, the meme fits into a much older archetype: the Sanctified Woman, the woman who exists not as a person but as a symbol of order. She is pure, loyal, unchanging, untouched by the world. She is a vessel for male anxieties about chaos, change, and vulnerability.

But mythic women like this are always made of glass. They shatter the moment they encounter reality.

Real women — real people — have complexity, contradiction, growth, autonomy, and unpredictability. They have opinions that don’t align perfectly with yours. They have friendships you don’t control. They have histories you didn’t author. They have futures you don’t get to script.

The meme-maker isn’t ready for that. So he imagines a woman who never forces him to grow.

The “Ideal Woman” meme isn’t a portrait of desire. It’s a portrait of fear.

It’s the emotional blueprint of someone who feels endangered by normal human behavior — someone who cannot tolerate disagreement, independence, or unpredictability. Someone who mistakes control for safety and rigidity for strength.

And once you see that, the meme stops being prescriptive or offensive or even annoying. It becomes transparent. You’re not looking at an ideal. You’re looking at a coping mechanism.

The meme-maker thinks he’s announcing what he wants. He’s actually announcing what he fears.

And that’s the most remarkable part of all.

Mind you, anyone who sets down a list of their ideals is revealing a great deal about themselves. It’s unavoidable. Ideals are autobiographical. They tell us what a person fears, what they crave, what they believe they lack, and what they think will finally make them feel safe.

Most people who genuinely desire relationships want things that are beautifully ordinary: stability, safety, harmony, comfort. There is nothing wrong with any of that. These are human desires, not political ones.

But harmony isn’t a constant. Stability isn’t a guarantee. Comfort isn’t a personality trait. These things are moments — goals to be worked toward, appreciated when they appear, and valued precisely because they are not permanent. They are weather patterns, not laws of nature.

And when we speak of ideals, we’re always speaking of something fundamentally unreal. Ideals are smooth. Humans are not. We are flawed, complicated creatures who get sick, get tired, get scared, get hurt, sneeze too loudly, breathe weirdly at night, and fail in ways both small and spectacular. We are not ideals. We are organisms.

The deepest, most meaningful relationships I’ve ever seen — the ones that actually endure — are built on a foundation of choosing someone after you’ve seen their flaws. Not in spite of them, not pretending they aren’t there, but with full awareness of the messy, human reality of who they are.

It’s looking at the person next to you, seeing the cracks, the contradictions, the vulnerabilities, the habits that drive you up the wall, the fears they don’t admit, the ways they fall short — and in that moment, choosing them anyway.

That’s strength. That’s intimacy. That’s adulthood.

And it’s the exact opposite of what the “Ideal Woman” meme is trying to do.

The meme-maker wants a partner who never forces him to confront the unpredictable, uncomfortable, deeply human truth of real relationships. He wants an ideal because he is afraid of a person. He wants purity because he is afraid of complexity. He wants control because he is afraid of choice.

But relationships aren’t built on control. They’re built on choosing someone who is real.

And real people are never ideal. They’re better.