She looked me up and down, shook her head like she was clearing her ears, and then turned to check the sign on the door. Ah, I thought.

Anxiety on a butch is no different than anxiety on anyone else, but somehow I feel an immense shame as a result of the two’s interactions.

It’s that tie-straightening and sunglass removal feeling.

“I just don’t see why a woman would want to aspire to masculinity when she doesn’t like men.”

“I’ve seen some queer people who insist on holding doors, and other queers who use their stilettos to step on the feet of the men who do the same. I love them both, but I’m not sure if I can call sides in a concept of gentlemanly behavior that’s much older than any of us.”