Back when I was homophobic

     I grew up in the great blue north, and felt that gay was normal, more than normal, cool.  So when I say I was homophobic, I don’t mean gay bashing homophobic.  I mean literally I was afraid of the same sex. 

     My personal space bubble in high school was well documented.  Hugs were a rarity, and if I were to give one it probably went to the guy I was dating.  I just didn’t do affection.  In college I learned about the power of hugs and I started to let people into my bubble…occasionally.  But still when it came to girls I was very picky as to would I allow there. 

     College is also where I met my first lesbians and made lesbian friends.  And as much as I loved them or supported I didn’t want to see them doing anything together or hear about it.  I was quoted as saying something to effect to lesbians friends W and SL, “Your love is a wondrous thing and makes me feel weird.”

     As for being in a sorority?  My personal uncomfortableness and extreme modesty became well known among my sisters.  It even became a game.  At important events I would get “boobed” by certain sisters.  I went along with the game, because it was meant to be funny, but it tore me up inside.  This game came to a halt when after an event the girls were changing.  I was surrounded by a room of half naked women and I was overwhelmed.  Then I got boobed by a sister and then I hid away and cried.  It was so freaking confusing as to why I was crying. 

     At a meeting with a small group of sisters I had gotten close to, I was asked why I was so uncomfortable around women.  I postulated that it was because my alcoholic mother was never affectionate with me.  One of my friends stated this didn’t quite explain my uncomfortableness.  While I agreed with this, I couldn’t think of another reason.  I said it could be because my mother only ever hugged me while drunk.  But even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them.

     Since college I finally figured out I was gay, and interestingly enough my fear of women has pretty much vanished.  I’m still not the most lovey dovey individual, but my personal bubble is much much smaller now.  I’m still quite modest, but that’s because I don’t wear skin showing girly clothes, cause I’d rather guy clothes.  And I’ve never had anyone to be naked with, so nakedness is unusual to me. 

     And that’s how the great big gayness resting in my soul destroyed the evil homophobia.

     The end.

QBP: "The roots of homophobia are fear. Fear and more fear." -George Weinberg

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My Lenten Promise

I vow to give up self-hatred and slothfulness.  And in an effort to better my relationship with God, I will pray/converse with God everyday for the forty days of Lent.

Butch Symposium: Butch Stereotypes

 This is the second edition of the Butch Symposium going on at Butch Lab, created by Sugarbutch.

"What do people think “butch” means? What are the stereotypes around being butch? What do people assume is true about you [or about your masculine of center friends], but actually isn’t? What image or concept do you constantly have to correct or fight against? How do you feel about these misconceptions? How do you deal with them? Do you respond to these stereotypes or cliches? How?"

Butches hate men.  Butches drive motorcycles.  Butches wear leather jackets.  Butches are the “man” in the relationship and perform all the “male” duties.  Butches work with their hands.  Butches aren’t intellectuals.  Butches can only have short hair in a men’s style.  Butches like beer and sports.  Butches are mean.  Butches cannot access their feelings.  Butches want to be men.  Butches will only date Femmes and do not date other Butches.  Butches are (always) the sexually dominant ones.  Butches only wear masculine attire.  Butches under the age of thirty do not exist.

        I think the very first assumption is that if you’re a woman who presents masculine of center, is that you must be a lesbian.  This is perhaps true a lot of the time, due to homosexual being “alternative” there is more room for gender expression in that community.  But as Franky Fitzgerald of the new Skins generation has shown us, one does not have to love girls to feel most comfortable wearing masculine attire.  Assumptions specifically about me are tough due to my soft butch look.  More people would rather assume I am like them, straight and gender normative, than see me as I truly am and present.  

        The assumption that strikes me the most is that Butches cannot be intellectuals.  When I look at the representations of Butches in the media, I cringe.  A Butch can’t be a doctor, or a lawyer, and if she’s a professor she’s a women’s studies professor.  

        Any misconceptions I hear about butch women I personally respond back to, but I’m afraid I’m not brought into those discussions.  I present “normal” enough, which means I’m “safe”, which also means I don’t provoke those types of questions.  And it bugs me.  I want to get into the fight.  I want to support my Butch brothers and sisters.

I finish answering these questions with a question of my own.  What is that line between “normal” presenting and “Butch” presenting?  Or what has it been for you guys?  

Bought my first pair of men’s pants today

     It has been my plan ever since I started wearing men’s (boy’s) shirts, that I would one day buy men’s pants.  Each time I pulled on a pair of suffocatingly tight women’s jeans, or looked in the mirror at how the jeans hugged my curves, I thought about getting men’s pants.  But I didn’t.  Mostly because I was scared.  If I wore men’s pants would it change how people looked at me?  After I came out to my church friends, and got my hair trimmed short again, I realized that at this point wearing differently gendered pants was not going to matter.

     One issue down, next?  How did men size their pants?  A quick internet search provided me with the information.  Waist length by Inseam Length.  Okay…then I needed a measuring tape (and the only one I could find was pink…just tell me why “girly” things have to be pink?).  Measurements roughly taken.  Next to the store!

     Nope.  I waited and waited.  It wasn't until my roommate had to go to Old Navy before I finally made the decision to purchase the pants.  I think a store like Old Navy is great for the baby butch who doesn’t want to break the bank.  The jeans are moderately priced and usually the workers don’t care enough to bother you.  Plus I could easily slip in and out of the fitting room without being harassed by an attendant. 

     Though it was nerve wracking, I selected a few pairs of jeans of different measurements around the ones I took with my measuring tape.  I tried the different sizes on until found the measurements that worked best for me.  Then all I had to do was find the pants that I liked.  In the end I selected a pair of dark jeans, lighter jeans, and gray cargo pants I found on clearance. 

      So even though my heart pounded and I was wary of looks, I found that as long as I just went about my tasks no one bothered me.  And the day ended with success.

QBP: "Clothes make the man.  Naked people have little or no influence on society." -Mark Twain