Butch Please: Butch Seeking Butch (For Friendship)

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BUTCH PLEASE is all about a butch and her adventures in queer masculinity, with dabblings in such topics as gender roles, boy briefs, and aftershave.

Header by Rory Midhani

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A missed connection, if you will:

I was walking down the sidewalk with a lovely lady on my arm. You were walking towards us. You saw me and hunched your shoulders in your leather jacket, pulled on your five-panel, and gave a noticeable tug on the girl whose hand you were holding. You stuck your chin out and made direct eye contact, staring me down as our paths met. You looked like you were trying to make yourself about a foot wider and two feet taller. I had no idea how to respond to your body language, since I couldn’t tell if you were trying to make me cry or run me off the sidewalk. I don’t know if you were showing me that the girl you were with “belonged” to you, or that you were the “bigger butch,” or that I should “step down.”

Meanwhile, my femme girlfriend said she was making polite eye contact and smiles with the girl whose hand you were yanking on, and those two passed with a sense of community and friendliness. You nearly bodychecked me when you passed. What gives, friend?

-Sad, Non-Confrontational Butch Who Just Wants Another Butch to Be Friends With

This happened. Actually, it happens fairly often. I run into another masculine-presenting queer my age and the body language exchange feels a lot more hostile than it does friendly. Chests puff up, clothing is shrugged into place, hat brims are fondled and readjusted. Passing on the street or in any social space can feel like a short brush from a full on confrontation, and I am immediately reminded of the mating rituals of certain species of birds, with lots of flashy feathers and awkward dances of dominance. I’m not looking for a full-on hug, but it feels like butches’ introductions tend to come with some level of one-upmanship and animosity, and that’s a darn shame.

As a result of these interactions, I have developed a few fears:

  • Do I have a permanent case of Resting Bitch Face? Is my expression intimidating and nasty when I’m not paying attention? Does it appear that I am trying to steal your girlfriend, or punch you in the face, or seem cooler than thou? I just look this way, I swear! On the inside, I’m having an anxiety attack about making eye contact and whether or not I look goofy and a conversation I had two weeks ago that is still plaguing my subconscious. Does that translate as douchebag that deserves to be stared down?
  • Is there something significant about butchness that I am missing? Am I supposed to display a secret badge or know a hand signal? Do you see me as an impostor in your masculinity complex because I forgot to show you my Butch Card? Where do I get a Butch Card? Are they available on a sliding scale? I’m a broke-ass queer, but I don’t want to be left out of my own community!
  • If this turned into an actual physical altercation, could I survive a non-West Side Story street fight with another butch?

Okay, I’ll say it: I have trouble making butch friends. Actually, I have trouble feeling like I am a part of the butch community, period. Here I am, writing a column that is about my butch experience, supposedly an acting representative of the title “butch”, and I don’t feel like I belong. If masculinity is at its heart an aspirational state of being, then queer masculinity is inevitably going to be a few steps from the center, right? Maybe I’ve been chewing on gender theory for too long – and sometimes I think college will do that to you, just shove a lot of scraps in your mouth and say “Taste this, damn it! It’s smart!” – but I know that to be masculine is to never feel satisfied with your own expression, an eternal anxiety that you’re not “man enough,” that your package isn’t as impressive as that person’s package. It makes sense, then, that the taste in my mouth when I run into another butch is the sour impression that my butch is not as butch as their butch, so to speak.

I was not one of those butches who swears by the posse of guy friends she’s amassed since grade school. I’ve never actually known how to make guy friends. When I was a six year old in a Catholic school uniform, boys were foreign objects who told me I was ugly. Girls made sense. It was easy and fun and felt right to be around girls. Girls ruled and boys drooled, or so I recited on the regular while holding hands and spinning in circles with my friends. The Spice Girls told me all about girl power. Feminism was a thing I discovered at 9 and wholeheartedly embraced. Plus girls were pretty and they smelled good, and I liked being around them.

Even past the years when gender socialization seemed intentionally segregated by teachers and parents, even when I was at that adolescent point when we were supposed to be “mingling” with the opposite sex and developing crushes, I was instantly comfortable surrounded by girls. Guys made me uncomfortable because I felt like I was supposed to be interacting with them in a certain way, and I couldn’t. I was supposed to think they were cute, and I didn’t. I was supposed to flirt with them, and I didn’t. Worst of all, I wasn’t supposed to feel jealous of their ability to have pretty girls like them, and I so totally did. Something about guys made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, too, and I didn’t understand that feeling.

I revisited that emotion when I came out as butch. Sometimes it feels like my inability to feel at home in the butch community and make butch friends has something to do with my inability to make guy friends, too. When masculinity is the dominant trait that ties a group together, it’s a very different kind of bonding experience. I’m used to the secretiveness of girlhood, the connections that are formed from whispering and huddling together in the dark and sharing hidden things that society has told us not to display. In a butch social group, it feels like I’m meant to be putting everything on display, from my sexual prowess to my good hair. We’re either peacocking together or we’re sizing each other up, or both. And when we can’t find a greater cause to identify with, we resort to shitty practices like misogyny and shoving our swagger around. Masculinity isn’t about forming community without pushing someone out of that community, so it’s not that much of a surprise that access to that community doesn’t always feel natural or okay.

Still, I want my community. I want to feel like when I say butch to identify myself, there’s a lot of other people saying it, standing next to me and keeping me from falling down. Because sometimes you say butch and the world gives you a pretty firm kick in the opposite direction, and it would be nice to know there’s a safety net ready and waiting.

How do we, as butches, form a healthier community, one that reaches out rather than puts up walls? I know and understand why those walls are there. The queer community has to be insular for its own protection, and we’re a bunch that has learned defense mechanisms the hard way. But butchness doesn’t just arise from queerness. It’s also directly influenced by hegemonic masculinity, and patriarchal notions of manhood, and what it means to share and bond and connect when these expectations for expression are in place. I’m not saying we need to wake up tomorrow and stand in a circle together and kumbuya this into existence. I’m saying that instead of expecting the worse from our fellow butches, we need to see the best. We need to support and accept, instead of attempting to one-up and establish superiority. There are many kinds of butches, and they’re all equally important and equally welcome to our community. Let’s make sure we all have a place at the table. We can be hard motherfuckers who kick the ass of the world that tries to beat us down, but we should still be able to smile at our fellow butch, and let them know we see them as friends, siblings, and fellows in the struggle.

Avatar of Kate

Hard-lovin' butch made of tears, sweat, and spit, in that order. Professional lonesome polecat. Kate is living proof that you can take the hillperson out of the mountains, but she's still probably going to run back to the mountains anyway. Kate prefers the trashy to the classy, and the tender to everything else. Full-time writer, part-time lover. Heart got so big and soggy that she had to cut off all her sleeves.

Kate has written 124 articles for us.

58 Comments

  1. Thumb up 13

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    “And when we can’t find a greater cause to identify with, we resort to shitty practices like misogyny and shoving our swagger around.” This is why I loved seeing pictures of all the Dyke Marches and their afterparties in various cities (although I wasn’t able to go myself)– the butch community seemed so open and loving towards each other during this one event. There was definitely a greater cause there and everyone seemed to have their hearts open :)
    And Kate, you and your column are one of the best parts of “the butch community” (and I won’t lie, when I want to make a new queer friend I send them to this column and they come running back with “be my friend plz thank you for introducing me to the best thing on the internet”. works every time.)

  2. Thumb up 16

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    Can I just say yes to the whole being more comfortable around girls thing? I’ve spent almost all of my 18-ish years wanting things deemed ‘masculine’, from soccer to video games to the way I dress, but interacting with guys about any of it has always felt…off. I don’t know if it’s the spending my first 8 years of education in all-girls schools, but I feel a lot more confident/safer interacting and joking with girls.

    Whenever I talk to most guys my age, I’m either on edge or engaging in what I like to call ‘douchebro culture’, like yeah I can swear as much as you, yeah I know as much sexual terms and innuendo as you, yeah I’m just as much a ‘bro’. It’s fucking toxic masculinity, of course, and I’ve managed to get away from it this year, but that’s the kind of masculinity I see in guys my age and so that’s the only kind I get to interact with.

    • Thumb up 17

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      Seconding this and adding that’s its nice to see someone talking about how for them it was the guys who were toxic and the girls accepting instead of the other way round. Because the narrative of girls as catty and evil and boys as totally cool gets thrown around so much and is both horribly misogynystic and invalidating of so many peoples childhood experiences.

      • Thumb up 3

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        And idk, girls tend to have a better reaction to my butchness in general? For example, I wore a waistcoat+tie for a school dinner last year, and the only students to side-eye were guys. All of the girls were awesome and complimentary about it, which in addition to giving me a nice ego boost, made me feel a lot more at ease.

        Ugh, but outside of school settings I have a lot of nervousness about entering all-woman spaces, because I know people are gonna misgender and be like “dude, this is girls-only, get out” and then I have to explain myself which always leaves me feeling vunerable. Sigh, one of the few benefits. of.gendered school uniforms is that no one questions your gender

      • Thumb up 4

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        How, then, does one discuss one’s childhood/post-childhood/forever experiences of the guys being accepting and the girls being judgmental? (Other than, obviously, not painting an entire gender with one brush?) This is not a rhetorical question. I’m legitimately curious. Because I often (read, always) feel like I can’t even share my personal experience- even stated clearly as such- without being immediately slammed as “that girl who says she only has guy friends, coughmisogynycough, eyeroll.”

        • Thumb up 3

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          As one who has grown up having predominantly male friends due to being mistreated by the girls in my classes and from having more common interests with the guys than the girls, I would like to hear the answer to this as well.

        • Thumb up 2

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          I guess just try and describe your experience as best you can, while being aware of any prejudices that might be influencing you? I mean, I’m sure you might get criticism, but if you’ve really experienced that kind of thing you should be able to share it without being dismissed as a misogynist.

        • Thumb up 1

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          Ooh friends, I’m still in this space. As a ragingly femme queer who hangs out with only guys and now butch women, I often feel like I’m definitely in the time old “girls are…” camp, even on accident!
          I just never connected with any straight or gendernormative women until I was over 18. In fact, girls made me terribly uncomfortable, and now, even in university I am wildly fearful of gender segregated groups where I’m stuck lumped in with the girls.
          Who knows?

        • Thumb up 1

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          By not saying all girls are evil/toxic/bitches but guys are cool. Its that narrative I’m objecting to and that’s why I’m apreciative of someone being allowed to express a narrative that contradicts that because normally such narratives are shut down. By all means tell the truth about your childhood, I believe you, but don’t generalise whole genders based on it (and you said you aren’t doing that).

    • Thumb up 2

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      Yeah, I always feel like I sort of automatically slide into the “girl’s” circle of whatever group I’m joining. It’s happening again at my new job, and while I kind of appreciate being able to join that community, it also feels kind of weird because I don’t always feel like “one of the girls” on the inside. Not trying to whine here–my job is really accepting of my gender presentation and sexuality and everything–but I’m just glad to not be the only person to feel this way.

  3. Thumb up 6

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    I don’t know. As someone who lands right in between the butch/femme spectrum, I always figured that I’d end up being perfect for butches and femmes, as I’m shades of both. Not so. My gay friends are androgynous, femme or fluid femmes, the ladies I date are fairly femme, even though I’ve felt attraction to women all over the spectrum. However, I don’t make friends with butches. I don’t know why. Older butches, sure. Young butches do not like me, romantically or friendly. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. And growing up, I always had good male and female friends- a good mix. Man, I’m glad I’m not the only one.

  4. Thumb up 8

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    I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. As someone who would personally identify as male, but all but my closest friends know me as a butch female, masculinity is exhausting. My body is not a masculine one, I’m decidedly pixie-looking. All my friends are these 6 foot tall men who don’t need to prove themselves the way I do. I feel like when I’m around anyone else who is masculine, I’m working my fucking ass off to keep up with them, be they butch or otherwise. And I feel shit because its like no, this should be honest! This should be easy and natural! But its not. Its the endless performance in a body that is not set up for what you’re asking it to portray. When you’re near someone else who is masculine, it can feel like that contrast is just being amplified, and suddenly everyone can suddenly see in hi-def how badly you’re failing at this whole thing.

  5. Thumb up 2

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    arghh.. you always manage to put words to the things I’ve been feeling and been confused about for years. This column always seems to ease my mind a bit and remind me I’m not the only one. Others feel these feels too. Thanks, Kate. Keep it real.

  6. Thumb up 1

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    This also happens to me as well although I don’t necessarily identify as butch, moreso androgynous. Because of this most of my queer friends tend to be more feminine-of-center (and often mistaken as romantic partners). I’d love to meet people that were MOC to bond with. Thanks for writing this article.

  7. Thumb up 5

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    I see a lot of this peacocking when I’m out with my partner who is a fem trans* man. I think his male identity intimidates those who pride themselves in a masculine female identity.
    Honestly, we hardly go to lady-centric clubs (where I feel comfortable), as he is often faced with hateful looks or words.
    Gay clubs should be a safe space for all regardless of gender identity and expression.

  8. Thumb up 2

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    “Even past the years when gender socialization seemed intentionally segregated by teachers and parents, even when I was at that adolescent point when we were supposed to be “mingling” with the opposite sex and developing crushes, I was instantly comfortable surrounded by girls. Guys made me uncomfortable because I felt like I was supposed to be interacting with them in a certain way, and I couldn’t. I was supposed to think they were cute, and I didn’t. I was supposed to flirt with them, and I didn’t. Worst of all, I wasn’t supposed to feel jealous of their ability to have pretty girls like them, and I so totally did. Something about guys made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, too, and I didn’t understand that feeling.”

    Biggest Amen ever.

  9. Thumb up 5

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    I too have been looking for more butch or masculine of center queer friends. When I lived in the Bay Area, I joined a Bulldagger group, and they did welcome me and make me feel comfortable and I learned a lot. They were all older than me so I think we were at different stages of our lives, which made some conversations a bit more difficult for me to relate to. The best butch friendships I have now are all online, checking in via group video chats and texts throughout the week. They are really great people and I’m so glad to know them. I would fucking LOVE a younger butch hangout in person though. Minneapolis butches! Where are you? Let’s be friends! haha

  10. Thumb up 2

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    This kind of thing happens less and less as you get older, at least in my experience. I have a group of mostly MOC friends and I don’t feel any kind of competition like you described.
    What I get instead is that I feel like I tend to get put in the “friend zone” (to use a hated term but one that kind of fits here)by MOC folks I meet, because I look MOC but am super attracted to boyish girls, something that seems to be not as common in the queer community.

    I also feel you on being more comfortable around women than men. I find it very hard to make conversation with men and in general try to pretend that they don’t exist.

  11. Thumb up 8

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    “I run into another masculine-presenting queer my age and the body language exchange feels a lot more hostile than it does friendly.”

    For serious? That’s absurd. Hat brims fondled into place to demonstrate superior butchness? Where are these people so I can laugh at them until they stop being giant douchebags??

  12. Thumb up 14

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    I don’t know, really. It could be a location thing? Or a race thing? Or an age thing? (Geez, this is getting ridiculous) Anyway, I guess with most butches I come in contact with there is a general level of respect. To be fair, lines are easily crossed and its far too easy to ruffle feathers, but on the whole it’s always been a “stay in your lane” matter.

    There was a time when most of my friends were guys, but I’m in the military and men are the majority, you can’t get around that. Also, I’ve always had a “men are friends, not food” mentality that’s probably been there since Finding Nemo first came out. I think more lesbians should be friends with men, but instead of perpetuating bro culture, change it into something better. I’ve noticed it with my guy friends. They take your advice, they listen, eventually you have one less group of guys to worry about harassing young women.

    • Thumb up 4

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      I don’t really think it’s on lesbians to be anti-misogyny missionaries to straight men who harass women. Why should I make myself be friends with people who do things I find blatantly offensive? I answer questions when put politely, I do my part to educate people and correct misguided remarks and support the causes I believe in, but to say who I should be friends with and how I should handle those friends (the same ones involved in bro culture and street harassment are going to listen and take my advice? Really?) bothers me. I’m sorry if I misread your tone or your meaning, and I don’t mean to attack you (or the men you are friends with) but that thought rubs me the wrong way.

      • Thumb up 5

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        Nobody’s saying you have to go out and make all kinds of male type friends and make the world a better place. I’m just saying that it’s possible. I noticed that the general consensus around the comments here were around feeling awkward and out of place amongst men and that’s perfectly fine. I think my point is that it doesn’t have to be that way and I gave my own experience as an example.

        • Thumb up 2

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          Understood! I do appreciate the point you made about not perpetuating bro culture; there was a previous butch please post about the tendency among MOC queers to do this that I really liked, and I’m glad it’s something people keep in mind when making male friends. (Also the finding nemo reference; love that movie)

    • Thumb up 1

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      Agreed. I think it’s easier to change some cultures from within, and by a lack of hostility and a want to promote understanding. I’m really femme, but have almost exclusively male friends (not because of trying to change them, it’s just what happened), and I see that once masculinity and femininity get together, people realize their not so alien or mutually exclusive. I think that does most of the work.

  13. Thumb up 1

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    i’ve encountered this a lot. also why do butches have the most excruciating friend-break-ups ever? sorry, that is not helping. material for your sequel in six months! haha.

    g’luck xo.

    #comeatmebro

  14. Thumb up 3

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    Happens to me every time I am in a queer space. I feel like I am being sized up. . . which is funny to me b/c I am like 5’3 on my most confident day. Don’t get it. Don’t like it. Kinda spoils going “out” out. I had to explain to my partner that in fact I was not being “checked out” as she put it.
    The last straw for me was last semester when I was getting this from one of my grad students in class. In public I can ignore it, but its tricky to ignore it in front of a room full of students. Seriously?

  15. Thumb up 6

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    As someone who has found herself unfortunately engaging in this sort of behavior, I would like to add my voice to the discussion. I don’t always puff up around other moc people. When I do, it’s because I feel like the person is more moc than I am and I feel threatened. I’m still working on figuring out why exactly that is. This even happens when I see a moc person that I find attractive. I’m torn between wanting to talk to them and being like this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DU4xW79ASsg. Ultimately, in my case at least, I think it comes down the insecurity. I don’t have anything against them personally. I don’t even know them. I just see someone who I feel is more moc or is doing a “better job” at presenting as moc, and then become insecure which leads to feeling threatened/not good enough which leads to mental territorial displays which probably physically manifests as what my friends call my “killab*tch” face. XD

    To me, puffing up at some other moc ladies is like being one of those small dogs that barks at everything/one to make up for its lack of size. Unlike said dog, for me it’s all an insecure/fearful show. I’m not actually going to bite anyone, lol. Please don’t assume that everyone who does that is automatically a douche. I’m one of the nicest (often to the point of almost constantly being taken advantage of) people around. Like I said, this reaction even happens when I see a moc lady that I find attractive. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you (hypothetical moc/butch lady) or that I’ll react in a negative manner if approached. It just means you’re probably badass and I’m intimidated by you.

  16. Thumb up 3

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    I’m a femme and I have the opposite problem :(

    Before I came out I had exclusively female friends and couldn’t communicate with guys at all.

    After I came out all of a sudden I found it so much easier to get along with guys rather than girls, and the few female friends I have are super butch.

    Meanwhile, all femme girls (straight or otherwise) seem to hate me :(
    What went wrong…?!

    • Thumb up 1

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      Though I never really had a “before I came out, I had exclusively female” anything stage, I feel like sometimes I have this trouble too!
      Maybe you feel more comfortable in a group of MOC people because being in a group of straight feminine/femme women is difficult for the same reason some butches have difficulty with their community.
      My friends here also call me out on being a “Highlander Femme” in which the phrase “there can be only one” comes to mind.
      Check your subconscious behavior around femininity, and maybe you’ll find the key. Or, in the case that you are very put together/pretty/styled/other desirable femme quality (which I’m sure is the case), the “maybe they’re jealous/intimidated” thought also comes to mind. I know my few feminine acquaintances mentioned it to me as the reason they were stand-offish at first.
      Just be friendly, and check in with yourself.
      Also, have no shame: be friends with who you want. You do you.

  17. Thumb up 2

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    I know that I personally have no idea what to do with my face when I see another butch. I’m used to not making eye contact with anyone on the street, so when I see someone looking at me in a non-threatening way, my brain goes haywire and I totally freeze up. I would love to be more relaxed when I meet people randomly.

  18. Thumb up 2

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    ‘When masculinity is the dominant trait that ties a group together, it’s a very different kind of bonding experience.’

    You hit the nail on the head. I am the only woman in my office and let me tell you, the ‘sudden silence when someone walks into the room’ (the someone being me) has happened to me more times than I can count. Because I have no idea how to relate to these straight guys I mainly just retreat into my shell. It feels like I’m in a completely different world when I’m there and I just want to run back to the love and kindness of my female best friends… I have no idea how to navigate masculine spaces.

    Thank you for this article, Kate :) I look forward to your column every week!

  19. Thumb up 1

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    As you touched upon in your post, in our culture (and I mean the larger overall culture), masculinity is wrapped in insecurities. Its just how we’re taught. If you’re moc you’re supposed to constantly prove that you’re worthy of this “privilege”, that you belong. One of the ways to do this is push people down to raise yourself up, make yourself feel better, tougher, more worthy. And that’s really sad, frankly. Confidence (not cockiness, which is often too much ego or just another cover up for insecurity) is much more attractive, both romantically and friend-wise, than insecurity.

    I’ve never experienced the “puffed up” thing, at least that I’ve noticed. And frankly there is a good chance I wouldn’t notice because I really don’t care. But, I’d probably get a chuckle out of it if I saw it. Grow up, would be my feeling. I’m not butch, more “hard andro” (though I know I present as butch a lot), but I feel no need to prove myself one way or another. I do get The Nod a lot though, and its always nice to just get a little friendly recognition of Family.

  20. Thumb up 3

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    I have this experience all the time, but usually it’s not that we’re posing or posturing – I just don’t feel like I know how to engage with other MOC people. For starters, “what are your pronouns and what do you call yourself” isn’t exactly an appropriate conversation-starter, though I feel like it should be – it would get a lot of awkward out of the way. And while butch seems okay as a catchall term here, on this website, in this column, I know a lot of MOC people who aren’t comfortable with the term – they feel like they just can’t claim it, or don’t want to because it feels antiquated, or a variety of things. So I’m reluctant to give them the Nod, or secret handshake, or whatever, because I don’t want to call them something they don’t want to be called.

    But then there’s the fact that I had a similar experience to Kate’s – growing up, nearly all my friends were girls. They related to me, probably because of my height, as the older brother they never had, or maybe the safe guy friend who wasn’t going to try to kiss them when they weren’t expecting it. I liked that role. It made sense to me, even before I figured out why I liked it so much. It still does. But I had a fraught relationship with the guys – my height, and the fact that I wasn’t willing to laugh at dumb jokes or make myself superficially agreeable, made me threatening. I often wanted to be friends with them, but there seemed like an uncrossable gulf between us.

    Oftentimes I feel the same with other butches. There’s so much I want to talk to them about – how we came to be butch, how it is to be butch now, the problematic romances that we have with the term – but usually the only thing that can make that come out is way, way too much alcohol. I wonder if maybe there’s something we’ve internalized, a sort of reticence or reluctance to talk about it that feels masculine to us, because talking it out is “girl stuff.” I dunno, and I don’t really know how to surmount it. Thoughts (that don’t involve further damage to my liver)?

  21. Thumb up 1

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    I have had many encounters much like this and also was reminded of territorial animal behavior. I want to amass more lesbian friends but I feel approaching lesbians some times I either get the situation as mentioned above or the assumed idea that i approach them for romantic intentions. I have however met some awesome masculine of center lesbians that i call my lesbros through friends of friends. I feel the club/bar scene you see more frequently this sort of weird posturing.

  22. Thumb up 1

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    I only really have one butch friend but it is really great cus we both share the same interpretation of masculinity and it’s really validating. Having said that I could totally imagine being sized up in a club by another butch and it would be a toss up as to whether my better nature would appeal and I’d reject the terms of their masculinity, or whether I’d give in and try and ‘compete’ on their terms.

    I think it can be hard when you feel like someone is actively challenging your masculinity to not respond in a douchebag way, even when you know that playing their game is validating that approach. I guess cus I’m so used to feeling like I can never ‘win’ against dudes it’s almost easier to have a ‘masculinity challenge’ where you both start off on equal footing and really tempting to ‘prove’ yourself.

    Maybe cus there are so few times in normal society when butch gender identity is explicitly recognised, let alone respected for it.

  23. Thumb up 1

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    Yes. Yes. Yes.
    This happened to me very recently, and I couldn’t understand it. As my cutesy straight roommate and I passed a couple women in the hardware store, the more boyish one gave me the once-over in a manner that was none too friendly.

  24. Thumb up 3

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    Here’s my ad:

    Tomboyish dyke, that has been called “to lean to be butch”, 22 yrs, from Germany is looking for queer m.o.c. friends
    to discuss the importance of finding the perfect white T-shirt/ pair of jeans/ buttondown shirt, social issues and pop culture.
    I am not action hero kinda m.o.c., but the early 80s new wave kinda m.o.c.. Aaand you should be fine with that. :)
    I wont respond to letters that are written by mysogynists.

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    I actually get some of that tension from other males? I want to be treated like one of the guys but I think they can’t get over that I have no physical phallus to speak of. Other butches I see as brethren. I have no butch friends as masculine as me, but that’s because we didn’t click, I don’t think it was our gender identity.

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    This is fantastic. My fiance is butch, and has somewhat recently (within the last 5 or 6 years, I guess) embraced that role and, to some extent, that identity. She attempted femme (or at least, neutral) for a long time with very uncomfortable and dishonest results. She’s expressed, a few times, that she finally feels comfortable and like she can be herself. That said, she has also expressed fear of being seen as phony and of not wanting to use the word “butch” too much because there are others who are so much more ‘butch” than her. I might point her toward this article. I’m willing to wager that part of the experience of being butch is not feeling quite butch enough.

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