Showing posts with label butch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label butch. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Butch Symposium Round Up #2: Butch Stereotypes and Misconceptions

     Butch Lab Symposium #2 is here!  For the first symposium the topic was "What is Butch?".  Here you can find my entry and the round up for that topic.  This next topic was about the stereotypes and misconceptions that exist with the Butch identity and image.  As a young butch I do try my best to write at least something that could be thought provoking, if not beautifully scribed.  My entry for this topic can be found here, and I encourage each of you to check out what the other symposium participants felt about the issue.  Just check the links below or at Butch Lab.

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Tuesday, March 1, 2011

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


Tuesday, February 8, 2011

How my roommate has made me a better woman, a better butch

     I am by in large untested in romantic long relationships.  I haven’t had a relationship last longer than three months.  Granted they were all with men, and a reason for not staying with them longer was that physical intimacy with them grossed me out.  The closest thing I have had to a lengthy relationship is with my straight best friend and roommate, The GDB (as she would like to be known on here). 
     We’ve been friends since freshmen orientation at college, and joined the same sorority.  Yeah, I was in an honest to god sorority.  To say it was painful at times is an understatement.  Through it all though, I had The GDB: my best friend, sorority sister, and polar opposite. 
     I am driven, serious (though extremely snarky), type A, punctual, mature, masculine, and involved.  My roommate, The GDB, is more of a girly girl, and a free spirit.  She does life in her own time, and laughs things off easily.  An example, on a walk I am focused to getting to my destination.  The GDB stops for every stray cat, petting and chatting with them.  Do you guys remember that show The Odd Couple?  Well I don’t really but I do know it’s about two men who occupy the same apartment and are complete opposites.  My roommate and I make the Odd Couple look like loving identical twins.  That isn’t to say I don’t care for my roommate cause I do, but we are so very different. 
     Where I am the brains, she is the heart.  When new people first meet us, they instantly fall in love with her.  They’re more hesitant with me.  I’m friendly, but I’m also withdrawn and stoic with new people.  I gain them over with snarky brand of humor and then with enough time my unwavering loyalty and kindness.   She laughs with ease.  She’s vastly inappropriate.  The list of our differences goes on and on. 
     And yet, we work together real well.  Typically with people I feel like I have to be polite, so much that it's a real fault.  I’d rather internalize my pain than to inflict it on others.  I feel guilty about confronting people and when I don’t I get passive aggressive and angry.  With The GDB, I feel no worries about confronting her.  I can say straight to her face how I feel about the trash piling up, or keeping me awake with her drunken gaming.  And I don’t have to worry about her getting defensive.  I don’t keep nearly as much inside, and I have learned how to stand up for myself and my feelings.
     As for being a better butch, The GDB has not only encouraged my forays into butch, but has gone clothes shopping with me, taken me to get my haircut short, and learned real quickly to call me “handsome” and not “pretty”.  She lets me take over the masculine roles like the heavy lifting or opening jars.   And despite the fact that I don’t own a car, and she does and has to drive me places, she still doesn’t take away my “man” card.
     If my life were a lesbian romantic comedy, then I’m sure me and my roommate would be shacking up.  My lesbian friends SL and W  joke that we’re like an old married couple, bickering and all.  Truth be told we’re very much like an old married couple, including the part where we don’t have sex.  For many reasons such as my roommate is straight and that I’m not interested in her like that.  You know, little things like that.  :-)
    

QBP: “I don't need to pay a therapist to give me crap. I have a roommate that does it for free."  -Ally McBeal 

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Lesbian Terminology: The Masculine of Center Edition*

Andro- Stands for Androgynous.  They are men or women who choose to embrace both masculine and feminine characteristics and styles, such that they are at the center of the male/female spectrum. 

Tomboy- As a kid, they’re the girls who enjoy playing with the boys, rejecting typical girly tropes.  As a teenager or adult they are the straight or gay women who still love sports, baseball caps and hanging with the guys. 

Boi- Typically a trendy and dapper lesbian in her late teens, early twenties who likes to dress like a teenage guy.  Check out boimeetsplay.com. 

Soft Butch- Also known as a “Chapstick Lesbian”.  Think Ellen.  Soft Butches are lesbians who dress more masculine than tomboys, and act more masculine.  They are the in between, between Andro and Butch. 
 
Butch- Lesbians who embrace their masculinity.  They may act more like men and dress like men.  They also may take the dominant role in relationships.  Though as with most of these terms, the most important factor is that they self-identify as Butch.  

Stone Butch- A Butch who follows the adage, “to give is better than to receive” when it comes to sex.  They’d rather take care of their partner’s needs and are satisfied with that.

Stud- These are butches that have a lot of concern for appearances and "looking good". They sometimes take on the look and mannerisms of a "gangsta" or "thug". Usually younger, masculine behaviors usually similar to that of a teenage or early 20's guy.

AG- Aggressive Girl.  AGs are part of a subculture in cities.  Typically women of color in their twenties, they are tough, gangsta homosexual women.

Genderqueer- Dressing or acting in a manner that is not typically seen as mainstream or what society deems as “traditional” or “normal”.

FTM- Female to Male.  A female that is in the process of transitioning to be a man.  Involves hormones (testosterone), and sexual reassignment surgery. Often, breasts are removed, hysterectomies are performed, and name changes are done. These people live as men.

*Disclaimer* - Other interpretations may apply.

QBP: "I am a rare species, not a stereotype."-Ivan E. Coyote (check the vid below)

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Masculine Mannerisms

(A couple notes before I begin.  First, this is strictly about mannerisms.  I may cover actions, habits, and vocal patterns at a later date.  Second, I’m an advocate of everyone just being themselves no matter their mannerisms.  This isn’t a how to guide, but simply observations I’ve had as well as others.  Thirdly, not every man has these mannerisms, just a slight majority.)

     This all started with beer.  Or actually it started with me looking at how this guy held his beer.  He probably didn’t even realize, but how he held his beer told everyone in the bar: I am masculine.  Curious, I decided to investigate masculine mannerisms.  Some of these are obvious and others less so.   
  
Sitting:
     As a general rule, men like to take up space.  In chairs they tend to slouch more, and spread out with their legs and arms.  They keep their legs apart, and employ the ankle resting on the leg method of crossing their legs.       
Additionally I’ve commonly noticed men slouch down in their chair and then stick their feet straight out crossing their feet at the ankle.    
     General observation for mimicry: Arrange yourself as though you had no bones in your body. Drape yourself over the couch or chair or against the wall like you are all floppy, and don't worry about personal space.

Walking:
      When women walk they do this one-foot-after-the-other-in-a-line walk (think balance beam).  Men on the other hand walk with their feet apart and side by side (following two parallel lines) and surprise surprise they don’t sway/switch their hips.  Additionally a guy's heel is the first thing to touch the ground, and his toes generally stay up longer than a woman's.  (Women, used to heels, will touch down first with the ball of their foot.)   They walk heavy, with purpose, confidence.  Some might refer to a masculine swagger, but I have yet to figure out a swagger which doesn’t make me look like an spaz or like a cocky something or other.  
   
Standing:
     Unlike women who may put more weight on one leg, men will stand with equal weight distribution on both feet.  When a guy feels threatened, he'll get "bigger" to try and scare the threat, as opposed to women who generally get smaller as to not be noticed.  Lean.  Lean against walls, door frames, vehicles (make sure they’re not moving when you do this).

Hands:
     Women tend to emphasize their points with their hands, men tend not to.  Men keep their hands down and low.  They stick their hands in their pockets, but to do that you need pockets you can actually fit your hands into…stupid girl jeans.  In an interview with Felicity Huffman when she was playing in Transamerica, she said she moved her hands like she was underwater, which made them seem bigger and more mannish.  Avoid hands at hips at all times, unless you are David Caruso…who you are not.
     Men aren’t as careful when they hold things, so many men (and a few women I’ve noticed) hold their beer bottles by the neck with a few fingers, when they’re taking sips.  For larger gulps, they hold their bottles in a typical position at the label.     

Face:
     Smirking, it’s not just for lesbians!  When guys smile their grin is a bit asymmetrical, sort of almost lopsided.  Men tend to be more cheeky with their smiling than women, and typically don’t react as “large” as women do.  They want to seem unfazed and in control of everything happening around them.
     They’ll crane their head up in response of a threat or acknowledgment and use more non-verbal communication than women.  Men clench their jaws when doing manly things. 
     Guys look confident.  They don't look apologetic, hesitant or shy. Even reserved guys tend to have an air of self assurance.
     They aren't too emotionally expressive most of the time, but when they are, they wave their hands and arms around a lot (dynamically, not girlishly. They don't keep their hands close to their body---men fling them out.) They don't try to be contained or quiet about it---upset/excited guys get very demonstrative.

Additional:  
         We could get into the cruder aspects, like “package” adjustment, or scratching, but oh hey I just did! 
    
 The Summary:
     Take up space.  Be less expressive.

QBP: "When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It's a whole different way of thinking." -Elayne Boosler


I observed a lot of these mannerisms and got the rest from this site.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

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.
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.
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.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Working with your hands *No homo*

  First let me explain the title of this post.  Here in America there was a trend in which rappers would talk/sing/rap about sexual acts of a distinctly homosexual nature.  However, they thought to erase this (I don’t know, perceived homosexual vibe) by adding "No homo". 
     One, it’s incredibly insulting and two, it doesn’t work.  Sorry rappers whatever you said definitely still sounds gay.  Maybe even more so, now that you’ve added a disclaimer.

     This past week I was asked to help my lesbian friends, SL and W (when I asked them what they wanted their pseudonyms to be, they said, "Snow Leopard" and "Wolf"...Apparently I have odd friends).  They were planning on creating a patio in their backyard, or in other words a large concrete slab.
     I helped where ever I could, including moving wheelbarrows of concrete back and forth, from the cement truck to the backyard.  Let me tell you, concrete is heavy.  It was hard work, but I enjoyed it.  As a grad student in the sciences, I do a lot of mental work.  I like being able to use my mind, but I’ve always loved using my hands too (No homo).
     During the pouring of the patio, I encountered something I imagine is frustrating to many butch women: the discrepancy between male and female strength.  Now I'm talking purely physical strength here.  I simply cannot lift as much as a muscled male.  So even though I tried hard, many tasks went to the males.  Nothing quite takes the wind out of your sails more than being unable to help due to an innate biological difference.
     But I helped, and I can at least take comfort in that.

QBP: "money money money get a dollar & a dick
weezy baby that crack mothafucka get a fix
got money out the ass no homo" -Lil' Wayne


Thursday, November 18, 2010

“Anything for you sir?”

     I have arrived.  Earlier this week I went out to a comedy club with my roommate and few friends (sorry, non-lesbian A was not there).  I was dressed in a tight black boy t-shirt and my favorite jacket.  The waitress comes over and asks for my friends’ drink orders and then turns to me.  “Anything for you sir?”  This is the first time anyone has called me sir.  I guessed I must have been slightly freaked, because my roommate, who was the only one who heard this exchange, said my voice went up an octave when I replied back to the waitress.  
     Don’t get me wrong.  I was excited to be called sir.  Two years ago when I cut my hair short because I was basically going on a long camping trip, I got offended when I was mistaken for a man (which was only once and it was a lady of an elderly status).  But now that my choice to look this way is deliberate, it’s nice to know someone notices. 
      It makes me feel good, though a bit wary.  One of the comedians was a lesbian, and when she mentioned it I wanted to shout out, to support her.  But I didn’t.  Some of the friends I was with didn’t know I’m gay.  Because I feel I can dress like a fem and support lesbians (as a generic liberal) or I can dress the part and then stay quiet in instances like these.   To dress both how I do and be vocal about LGBT things would just confirm everyone’s suspicions (in the logic that exists in my head). 
     Still I couldn’t help but love one comedian’s take on DADT.  One soldier friend of his confessed he doesn’t want gays in the military because they might look at his butt in the showers.  The comic made the point, if you can’t defend your butt, maybe you shouldn’t be defending the country!  But he said it all funny like…like you know comedians do.  All in all, a good night.

QBP: "Him, who incessantly laughs in the street, you may commonly hear grumbling in his closet. " -Johann Kaspar Lavater


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I wore a tie to church Sunday…

     For church on Sunday I played in the orchestra during service.  As our dress code is all black for when we play I thought it was the perfect opportunity to try out my new black Tommy Hilfiger vintage slim (I say not for fashion’s sake, but because it has the best width for a slim upper body) tie.  As I tied my Windsor and adjusted it in the mirror, I started to feel anxious.
     This feeling increased as I walked to church.  In my head I was playing out a scenario in which the orchestra conductor looked over at me and my tie and just said “no” and then asked me to take it off.  From there I would insist that a tie wasn’t hurting anyone and I wouldn’t play without it.  Then things would escalate and I would make a dramatic show of leaving.  Then I would go teach my Bible Study class, cause I made a commitment and I stand by my commitments, and then a minister would come in and beg me to take off the tie.  I would again insist that such a small piece of clothing shouldn’t matter to anyone.  He would say he doesn’t care, but do it for the older people.  And again I would say no, and then never return to church again.
     Yeah.  My mind sorta goes into overdrive sometimes.  Then I thought that the above would probably not happen, but that I would get some awkwardness, faces, and questions about why would I wear a tie from my fellow Bible Study teachers and orchestra members.
     I stood tall, prepared for the worst, and strode into the Sanctuary where the orchestra was prepping and…NO ONE SAID A THING.  Not one person the entire day.  The closest to any recognition of the tie I got was a short double-take by my music stand partner.  Even the older ladies I work with to teach Bible Study showed no inkling of tie-worry. 
     I was almost disappointed!  But then I looked around and saw a friend of mine, a gay male, who was wearing a hot pink polo, jeans, and heavily gelled hair.  Oh and the skinny tall gay seminary student wearing a full length fake (obviously) leopard print stole.  Compared to all of that my tie was a pittance.  God loves me no matter what I wear and apparently so do the parishioners of my church.
     So Sunday I wore a tie to church…and no one cared.  The end. 

QBP: "Church is the only place where someone speaks to me and I do not have to answer back." -Charles de Gaulle

Monday, November 15, 2010

Butch Symposium: What is Butch?

Over at Sugarbutch, Mr. Sexsmith is starting up a symposium of butch bloggers/writers and addressing a question concerning butch and butch identity each month.  As this is the first one, we have the most fundamental question.  What exactly is butch?  I collected my own thoughts below.

     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.  
      It means always hauling the heavy stuff your roommate can’t and hiding the fact that the box is slipping from your fingers and your arms are screaming out in pain.  It’s that swelling in your chest when a female friend compliments your strength or calls you brave, sexy, handsome.  And it’s that awkward feeling when people call you pretty, beautiful, or *gasp* feminine!  It’s the feeling when someone is hassling your friend that makes you want to haul out and slug them despite any size differences or logic.  It’s knowing when to listen and knowing when you back up your girl/friends.  It’s that feeling of confidence when you wear a dapper suit or perfectly fit t-shirt.  It’s calm under pressure (almost always at least).  It’s presence and swagger.  A woman can be dressed up as the completely stereotypical feminine icon, but if she has the appropriate swagger she can be Butch. 
     Coming from a more analytical perspective it’s the masculine part of the spectrum for all genders.  A lesbian friend of mine, SL, called butch “performed masculinity”.  I disagree wholeheartedly.  Clothing is a choice. Hair is a choice.  Butch isn’t.  Embellishment might be but otherwise I believe it’s as inherent as sexual orientation.   
     I take great pride in being Butch-identified.  Butch men and women are tough, strong, dependable, giving, and chivalrous.  With such wonderful adjectives like that who wouldn't want to be or know a Butch? 






Thursday, November 11, 2010

Formal wear

     I had to buy a suit a few weeks ago.  Wanting to be hetero-normative for the interview I needed the suit for, I went to a female oriented store.  One of my Aunts offered her “advice” without my asking for it (as family does) and told me to make sure I didn’t get a blouse that was “macho”.  Okay…someone please tell me what a macho blouse looks like, because my thought is that blouses are distinctly feminine.  Even the word sounds feminine.  Well of course I bought a pantsuit; I haven't worn a skirt since junior high. The suit looks great and feel great, and that’s good enough for me.  Combine that with a button down my roommate lent me and I looked pretty fantastic. 
     However after acting more feminine than I am at my interview I wanted to try something out.  I tried on a different button down, my suit jacket, and a new skinny tie I had purchased.  After trying out first a half Windsor, and then a full Windsor I found my favored tie knot.  The combination made me look real good.  But more importantly I felt like a million bucks.  Whenever I’ve worn a dress I’ve wondered how I much longer I had to wear it.  My friends would laugh at how I looked like I was being tortured.  It was a form of torture, ranking up there with death by spider bites (Buffy reference anyone?).  As I stood in front of the mirror, I realized I didn’t want to take it off, though it looked a little weird as I was wearing my pajama pants.
     It’s strange, perhaps even queer, the powers inherent in the tie.  It’s a strip of cloth that can transform a person more so than any other accessory.  Mystical powers.
     I took a few pictures and was struck by my appearance.  I compared a photo with one of me a little less than a year ago.  Long hair, glasses, along with my tomboyish clothes.  I looked disconnected particularly when compared to the formal wear pic.  It truly is amazing how much clothes and hair can make the (wo)man.

QBP: "Be sure what you want and be sure about yourself. Fashion is not just beauty, it's about good attitude. You have to believe in yourself and be strong." -Adriana Lima

The suit I wore to the interview
The other outfit


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

For those ALC virgins out there

A short post since I posted twice (and both of them long) yesterday.

     I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my blog writing.  I feel like I'm figuring out what I want to address and what I want to focus on.  And now that I've found my voice I'm trying to spread the word out about this blog.  So if you're new to the blog I am an admittedly young closested lesbian.  The overarching purpose of this blog is to help show that one can be gay and be tight with the big guy in the sky.  But as is the case there are other interesting aspects to lives and I want to talk about those too.  So I complied a list of focuses (foci?).

- Bringing Gay and God together
- The journey to figure out what Butch means to me and how I can abide by that
- Questioning sexuality and what's it like when you don't know your whole life
- My love life (or more likely lack of)
- What it's like being closeted particularly as I embrace my Butch identity
- If things go according to plan, my entrance into the military and as a result DADT
- Perhaps some fiction and other forms of revelry
- And most importantly having fun and trying not to be too serious

Quotation of the Blog Post (QBP): "For a long time I thought I wanted to be a nun.  Then I realized that what I really wanted to be was a lesbian." -Mabel Maney


Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Soft butch

     Ever since I can remember and photos proving from even before I can remember I have been a tomboy (I shunned the color pink and dresses from the age of three).  Many girls are tomboys, but the difference between so many and myself is the fact that I didn’t outgrow my tomboy phase.  In fact if you looked at my room currently you’d think it belonged to a twelve year old boy.  A punching bag, pull up bar, non-descript couch, bed with blue sheets, video game posters, and plastic furniture make not for the room of a 20-something year old girl.
     Other examples of my not-girlyness include how I treat people and act.  I always hold doors for people, even men.  I jump to help others out particularly if there is heavy lifting involved.  When I helped my current roommate move out of her old apartment, I carried the heavier boxes out and when she called me a “beast” my chest swelled with pride.  I much rather take care of others than be taken care of and my natural tendency towards silence gives me that mysterious quiet thing some males have.  When I sit I hate crossing my leg over another preferring to the male resting an ankle of one leg on the thigh of the other.  I also generally slouch and take up space when I sit. 
     I’d much rather be viewed as masculine than feminine, and not because I see femininity as inferior.  In fact I am envious of those women who wield their femininity with such grace, skill and expertise.  On occasion I have tried to be feminine, but even if I looked the part I never felt it.  I always have felt powerless in dresses, which is why I own only two and zero skirts and one pair of feminine flats.  I own only about four pairs of shoes: running shoes, dress flats, a set of sandals, and a pair of everyday sneakers.
     But all in all as my lovely roommate has pointed out, I dress a lot more feminine than I act.  My typical wardrobe is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but as I have come to figure out that liking menswear wasn’t a bad thing, I have added more a few more men’s or more accurately boy’s pieces to my plastic set of drawers.  This goes along with my getting my hair cut short (not being brave enough to get a super short butch cut I got a short cut in a woman’s style) and buying wife beaters and boxers for the first time.  Lucky for me I am friends with a lesbian couple who helped me with my clothing choices.
     I love the way I feel in the apparel.  When I tried a tie on for the first time I felt powerful and slightly asphyxiated (also a bit clunky, my body type requires a skinnier tie).   I’d like to dress more masculine and cut my hair real short, but I admit I’m too scared to do so.  As I dress and look now I am perceived as slightly andro, yet still straight.  Even though subconsciously they have an inkling.  Since I’ve cut my hair men see me as their genderless buddy and the women talk about lesbians and bisexuality a lot more when I’m in their company.  Interesting. 
     When I was in second grade, a friend told me I’d wear a tuxedo to my wedding if I could.  For years I denied that, but as I grow the thought becomes more and more appealing.

     (This doesn’t stop my relatives from buying me gifts to “help me get back on track”.  A Southern Belle Aunt of mine bought me a purse, which I wasn’t excited about until I found twenty bucks inside.  When I joined a sorority this same aunt was so ecstatic she sent me a bunch of sorority apparel, even though it wasn’t her sorority.  And my mother who didn’t care about my tomboy phase until I didn’t grow out of it in college got me expensive makeup knowing I never use makeup, and I about cried over the uselessness of the gift.  Two Christmases later I got a screwdriver from her and was infinitely happier.)

QBP: "It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy."  -Lucille Ball

The quite wonderful Rachel Maddow