Now is the time of the year when I really start to think about what it means to be a woman. Maybe that sounds strange, but I'm about to head off to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival (August 5-10), a festival for women only —and more specifically women who were born women.

Just to back up a bit, Michfest takes place in the middle of nowhere Michigan, every August. This will be my fourth Fest, and while each one is different, there are always female performers who give afternoon and night concerts, tons of workshops, and thousands of mostly lesbian, bisexual and queer women camping out in the woods. It's unlike anything I've ever been to. It empowers me to love my body, to speak up, and to think about what makes a person a woman.

Many women choose to walk around topless, even women who thought they would never be caught dead naked in public. I've never seen so many beautiful bodies of so many shapes and sizes, so many women owning their bodies and shaking off the narrow categories of what society considers beautiful. Being surrounded by all these different bodies, my own insecurities with my body seemed somewhat trivial and silly. It even made me aware of things I should begin to treasure about my body.

And I won't lie—thousands of dykes in the woods? Kind of my fantasy. So many hot, smart women. So many intense political discussions. So many fun parties.

However, I feel a bit ambivalent about Fest. The organizers intended the Festival for women who were born as women and currently identify as women, meaning that transwomen (those born as males, who identify as females) and transmen (those born as females, who identify as males) can't attend. I would fully support a festival celebrating womanhood, but I feel as though their idea of womanhood is rather exclusive. I want to be able to bring along my transwomen friends and really talk about what it means to be female surrounded by all those women.

As it stands, transwomen still attend, but often do not choose to be out about their identity as transwomen. Last year, I was part of an organization that provided safe spaces at Fest for transwomen and their allies, but it was hard because very few transwomen actually wanted to be out as trans there or even attend the festival because they worried about negative reactions. Even so, in my experience, there are plenty of people on either side of the argument, but once you're at Fest, you're part of the family.

As I head off to Fest once again, I hope it will continue to be more inclusive of all types of women. I have never felt so at ease with myself, my body, not to mention my sexuality. Fest is where I learned to love quirky things about myself while discovering millions of amazing things about all these other women. I have no idea what this year will bring—last year it was a late-night drag/burlesque performance, kisses in the rain, philosophical conversations along the tree-lined paths—but whatever happens, I just want to be fully open to it. And I want even more women to have this incredible opportunity to think about what it means to be a woman today, especially a woman who loves other women.

I always tell my friends the same thing that I'm about to tell the readers of this blog: check back with me in a few weeks after I've returned from Fest. I will probably have an entirely new outlook or, at the very least, have had many amazing experiences to share and think about as I head back into the "real world" and the queer community here in New York.

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