Party time with Non-Lesbian

     I wanted to have a party.  So I decided since I celebrate Chanukah (a confusing family tradition), that I would invite my church friends, lesbian friends, and Non-Lesbian, A.  I wanted to introduce my friends to a neat aspect of Jewish culture and also I wanted to drink.  

     As the night wore on, my friends all drank more and pretty soon A was doing some interesting things…like hitting on me.  Every five minutes she would tell the room “how sexy I was” and every fifteen she’d say how sexy the rest of my friends were (all women).  She hit on me so hard that she made two of my church friends awkward.  Not because she was a woman hitting on a woman, but because she was a “straight” woman hitting so hard on another “straight” woman.  

     Despite all the alcohol in my system, I was very tame.  I’m not actually all that different when I drink, a bit more talkative and courageous.  Having said that, at some point that night, for some reason, I decided I was hot and took off my t-shirt, stripping to my A-shirt.  (I also danced for everyone, so I must have been intoxicated.  I love to dance, but not generally in front of other people.)  Looking back I think I did it because I was enjoying all the attention A was giving me.  It’s been awhile since someone has viewed me as a sexual being (if you don’t count the very drunk men at the bus stop).  

     Everyone at the party was getting frustrated with A and her not-so-subtle advances.  They kept on pointing out she could actually date women if she so choose.  I too accosted her (politely).  I asked if she liked women so much well then she should just become a lesbian.  All she responded with was “I wish”.  “I wish”?  This is the 21^st century; it doesn’t have to be a wish!  It can be an action!  (But that would make it a verb…hmmm…lesbianing?  Lesbainizing?  Lesbonicycling?)

     Unfortunately it was around this time that I felt I was tired and wanted to go to bed.  I left to go crash in my room.  Thankfully everyone was nicely intoxicated that they didn’t mind one of the hosts (my roommate being the other) leaving her own party.  (I found out later that actually I left because I was wearing a sailor’s hat slightly askew and getting slightly pissed that everyone was calling me “cute”.  “Cute” huh?  What an insult!)  

     I’ve only seen A once since the party.  She invited me out to “dinner and a movie”, but I had other plans so I invited her out to drinks with me and our mutual gay friends.  There’s not much to note of that night except that she got me a Christmas gift, a book in which she wrote a nice (platonic) note.  No one else got a gift.  

     Non-Lesbian, A. might be lesbi-curious, but I’m not going to be her experiment.  All the attention makes me uncomfortable anyway.  I’ll be her friend and support her, but I don’t want my first forays into that big gay world be with a straight girl, even if she is “straight”.

QBP: "Drinking makes such fools of people, and people are such fools to begin with, that it's compounding a felony." -Robert Benchley

Who wouldn't hit on someone with this sexy mug?

Launching of Butch Lab: Symposium #1

     About a month ago I posted something for Sinclair's Butch Symposium.  Today the Butch Symposium launched here!  I'm so excited to be a part of this project alongside some prolific butch and those interested in all things butch bloggers.  So please read the excerpts below and be sure to comment and check out all the different bloggers.  And for newcomers to this blog please feel free to look around.  The stuff about Non-Lesbian is intriguing if not infuriating for myself.

***

     The Butch Lab Symposium is meant to be a cross between a blog carnival and a link round-up, where whoever wants to chimes in on a particular topic around butch identity and we all have a conversation.

     I strongly urge all the folks who participated in this to: a) re-post this roundup, in whole or part (I can provide the HTML if you’d like, contact me); and b) to comment on as many of the contributions as you can. Seriously, challenge yourself to read every single one and comment. Think about what is different or the same from your definition. Make note of a line that made you go “hmmmm,” or “yeah, that!” and tell them.

     So, because this was the first Symposium, I figured we should start out with the basics. To get all of us on the same page, to come up with a common language and definition and structure for talking about this stuff. I’d really like to continue elevating the discussion around butch identity through this project, and this is part of that, to really dig our hands into the deep stuff and see what we come up with.

     So the first topic was: What is butch? How do you define butch? What do you love about it? What does it mean to you?

Thirteen bloggers wrote in, four of them not butch identified but are interested in this work.

Ulla writes on Boxer Shorts & Bras:

I am a butch woman, a butch lesbian, a butch dyke – so my interpretation of butch stems directly from that. Beyond that though, butch is an adjective I use to describe the way I look, the way I walk. For me it’s about style, not gender. It’s the hipster jeans, the sneakers, the wallet chain, the watch, the heavy silver rings, the fact that I wear men’s clothing but refuse to accept masculinity and femininity as my gender labels. It’s my reclaiming of stuff that society says is just for boys and men. It’s liberation. It’s boxer shorts and bras.

Kyle at Butchtastic:

I love the word butch, it looks and feels exactly the way it should: tough, masculine, a little hard. For me, ‘butch’ evokes images of blue jeans and leather jackets, sturdy footwear and strong hands. ’Butch’ is strong, handsome, capable, ready to help, there to back up a friend or a stranger in need. And while I realize it’s not true for all who embrace the term, for me, butch is all the great things about being a woman, wrapped in the great things about being a man.

Holden from Packing Vocals:

I love taking what I perceive to be the best bits of masculinity and putting them into practice, such as chivalry and courteousness. I love opening doors, carrying bags, being called a gent and generally attempting to display as many ‘old fashioned’ good manners as possible. I also love the clothes and accessories, suits, ties, cufflinks, waistcoats etc. It’s all of that which makes the blood in my veins run thicker and stronger.

Roxy at Uncommon Curiosity writes about butch from the perspective of loving someone butch:

Butch is that red-and-white, candy-striped, aftershave-and-razor hair cut, the hand you wish you dared reach out to feel those strong, ripped shoulders, that neck that slides up, close-cropped, under the fabric, like she was born with that cap on, like they were made for each other, lookin out at the world like it’s one big fight or maybe just last night’s lay. The way she shines those boots that have known the ground, walked miles outside this town, out of her house and never looking back, marching and dancing with her girl, but always easy, hips that were built to press up close when her girl sways and leans her head back, stretching out her neck, long and graceful, inviting her inside.

G at Can I Help You Sir:

Being a butch is complex, and I dig it. When I think about what I love about being a butch, it’s easy to think tactically – “What things do I do that make me a butch?” I shave my face and wear my ball cap backward when I watch sports and love manual labor and open doors for my date, but anyone can do that. I went a step further and thought, “How do those things make me feel?” (Ew, feelings!) I can tell you this: I know what my life felt like before and after I came out as a butch, and the difference in my comfort level is astounding.

Victoria Oldham wrote at The Musings of a Lesbian Writer:

I am a femme. To me, butch is the other half of my equation. … There’s a swagger, a sureness, a sense of yeah, that’s who I am, so what? to her walk. A sense of comfort in her own body, of knowing who she is and what she wants out of life. A defiance of pronouns. An ability to take up space like a man, without every having to be one. She is in-between and everything, all at once.

EST from A Lesbian Christian writes:

Though it might be how others identify butch individuals, for me butch has very little to do with clothes and hair. Butch is an attitude. I think above all Butch means embracing your protective instincts. Holding a door open for a woman…or a man. Standing up for others who can’t stand up for themselves. Butch means not being afraid to get dirty especially when others are involved.

Wendi at A Stranger in This Place:

No matter how much I am against putting myself in a box by claiming the title of ‘butch’, I have learned to be much more ok with it after attending the conference and talking to others about the term and what it means to them. You see, the thing about words and titles is that you can mold and define them for yourself. … I am just me. A boots, jeans and t-shirt wearing, motorcycle riding, butch lesbian with a buzz cut. I like to think of myself as mostly a guy but I’m not. I’m a woman.

Jenni from Butch.org writes:

Having grown up as a gender non-conforming child, and navigating life as a gender-trans adult, my butch identity has been a way of naming myself and proclaiming who I am — so that I might embrace these qualities and think of myself as a hero instead of an awkward, self-conscious mistake of nature.

Ali at Made of Words doesn’t identify as butch, but chimes in:

I think you’re butch if you feel butch. I don’t think you need to claim the title every day. I think short hair my be a visual clue, but long hair doesn’t exclude you. I think gender identity and butch can be completely separated from each other, that it’s just an adjective for power, pants-wearing, and planning really great dates. For being swanky and taking care of yourself and being unafraid to get dirty. For occasionally getting “Sir” on the street, either accidentally or intentionally.

Jolie writes at This Side of Changed:

Butch is an adjective. Butch is a noun. Butch is a compliment, an acknowledgement, a performance, an attitude. Butch is an insult, an attack, an assault. It’s flattering and pejorative and honest and undeniable. Butch is a body born female and worn male. Butch is a title. One that must be first accepted, then adopted, and finally fulfilled. … Butch is the strength to grow up female and then choose for yourself – it is the strength to walk out the door every single day looking like everything you shouldn’t and making it work.

Lesbian Dad (Polly) writes over at Lesbian Dad:

Whether or not “butch” is the first term I find myself using to describe my gender, it is an umbrella I find shelter under. At the Butch Voices conference my breath was taken away: a room after room, hallway after hallway of people like me. I’ve got years of familiarity at being called “sir” (“six of one, half dozen of the other,” I usually reply, with a smile and a hop of the eyebrows); I am resigned to forever fluster/ disorient/ alarm women in public restrooms (at forty some-odd, I still avert my gaze and head for stall or sink, in mute attempt to convey I’m “just here to pee, ma’am; just here to pee”). Yet being surrounded by so many mannish women showed me how inured I am to aloneness in public.

Sinclair (um that would be me) over on Sugarbutch Chronicles:

So here’s what butch is, for me: Permission. Permission to be myself, that little solid stardust shiny nugget I feel somewhere in my core, like a diamond lodged between L5 and L4 of the lumbar spine vertebrae. Permission to wear what I like, to love who I desire, to play how I crave, to decorate and adorn my body how I choose. To experience all the things this world has to offer, without guilt or obligation, but with curiosity and an open heart and experimental hands. Permission to be right where I’m at, regardless of whether that’s where I was yesterday. Permission to explore and seek pleasure, to connect and create friction, to question and make change. Permission to be exactly who I am, doing exactly what I’m doing, to have bright burning faith that everything I do works toward the greatest liberation for everyone, as much as possible, all the time, in all ways.

Here’s a list of all the posts by link, if you’d like to copy & paste it onto your own blog.

Symposium #1: What is Butch? on Butch Lab:

• Ulla from Boxer Shorts & Bras
• Kyle from Butchtastic
• Holden from Packing Vocals
• Roxy from Uncommon Curiosity
• G from Can I Help You Sir
• Victoria from The Musings of a Lesbian Writer
• EST from A Lesbian Christian
• Wendi from A Stranger in This Place
• Jenni from Butch.org
• Ali from Made of Words
• Jolie from This Side of Changed
• Polly from Lesbian Dad
• Sinclair from Sugarbutch Chronicles

Decisions and DADT in December

     The long awaited decision of whether or not I got into medical school has “not yet been made”.  That means all the stress I endured this week was for naught.  It’s infuriating.  I can’t make a decision about my future if I don’t have an answer on med school.  If I get in, wonderful, I’ll live out my dream and become a doctor.  If I don’t get it (or possibly even if I get waitlisted) I’ll give myself a strict time limit for brooding and then get ready to enlist. 

     The good news is that DADT, the stand-alone bill edition, passed the House yesterday.   Now on to the trickier Senate.  Let’s say I’ll be super enthused if it does pass the Senate.  If I end up enlisting and DADT gets repealed, it’s not as if I’m going to broadcast my sexual orientation to the masses.  I’m still a very private person, but at least I won’t have the fear that if someone were to find out, that I’d be kicked out. 

     Perhaps a repeal will actually help grant me the courage to tell my church friends I’m gay.  Cause at this point it’s ridiculous.  It’s gotten to the point where it’s almost a betrayal not to tell them.  I’ll talk about this soon, but I had a party a few weeks ago.  I invited my lesbian friends W and SL, my church friends, and Non-Lesbian, A.  No surprise, drinking brought out a very interesting side to Non-Lesbian. 

     Anyways, my church friends noticed how A was acting towards me, and asked if I had told her I wasn’t a lesbian.  Perfect opportunity right?  Well the words caught in my throat.  All I said was, “I told her about breaking up with my last boyfriend.”  To which one of my friends said, “You could be a lesbian and still have an ex-boyfriend.”  To which I said nothing.  The subject was changed and the topic not revisited. 

     In other news, I’m headed “home” for the holidays.  I haven’t seen my family in about a year.  But everyone, except my mother, knows about my sexual leanings.  It’s easy to do so when your brother comes out as gay and your own father is bi.  My mother is kept in the dark, frankly because we don’t get along and it’s none of her business. 

     So that’s me for now.  Pissed about not having a decision yet about med school; befuddled by Non-lesbian; frustrated by my inability to say two simple words (I’m gay), and anxious about being with my family for the holidays.

QBP: “Army values are taught to soldiers from their earliest days in the Army.  Those values are: Loyalty, duty, mutual respect, selfless service, honor, integrity and personal courage. We teach our soldiers that these are the values we expect them to live up to. I believe that as an institution, our military needs to live up to the values we demand of the service members. Military leaders need to respect all service members. We need to recognize that loyalty and selfless service are exhibited equally, by service members of every color, gender and sexual orientation.” -Three-star Retired Lieutenant General Claudia Kennedy