Fem-Spunk is a fantasy, like Pippi Longstocking. It tells the underground, infectious story of little girls who decided to be pirates rather than well-mannered young ladies. Dreamers with unwelcome dreams, we are become smugglers. Such is our political fiction, the story we tell ourselves to enable our inner riot to transform the world into a playground. Rather a relationship of equals than the logic of power. Rather contagion than co-optation. Rather affinities than identities. Between militant desexualization and every-which-way pansexuality, this is a place where anyone who blows up the categories of the universal male standards—chick, queer, butch, trans, queen, drag, fem, witch, sista, freak—counts as a “girl.”
Christine Aventin is a lefty kinda girl—a writer who’s not takin’ it anymore.