I thought, “Hey New York, just cause you wear these cool designer bridges across your rivers and you’ve got some graffiti on your interesting architecture, doesn’t mean I have to like you, okay?” But I do like New York in spite of myself.

I have every faith in you, baby butch. I know you will be careful with this word and its legacy. It looks like a badge but it feels like a battleaxe, and I need you to know that it’s five times as difficult to earn and ten million times more dangerous.

An open letter to all the male icons I have consciously (or subconsciously) based my butchness upon over the years.