“Being butch is something I have both been my entire life and something that I have chosen.”
Butch Builds Community.
I’m a hairy short-haired sonuffabitch in plaid and denim that by that boy’s definition, and so many other definitions I’ve heard, is considered by society to be one of “those ugly lesbians”. And honestly, I ain’t even mad.
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.
What does butch style really mean? What about tomboy fashion? Four queers give you their take on where the two differ and where they collide.
Hair is a part of my queer ritual.
Is there a space within sex positivity for those of us who feel uncomfortable doing what sex positivism seems to ask of us?
Today I want to talk about how to dress for work when it’s super fucking hot outside and you don’t wear dresses.
There is something strange about the street harassment I receive as a butch in that it is often terrifying and extremely triggering, but something about it makes me feel justified. I am glad these men see me as a threat.
Camp is family, after all.
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.
Why is it that time and time again, people act like they can’t make me uncomfortable? That as a butch — as well as a queer person, a top, someone who likes to flirt and be sexual just like most human beings — it’s impossible to sexually harass me?
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.
“It’s easy for us to say that we don’t participate in the patriarchy because we are women, or because we have been women, that we have known what it’s like to be objectified, oppressed, fetishized. The thing is that we queers can perpetuate rape culture just as much as the next frat boy…”
I want to talk about shape-shifting, and clothing, and being a butch who wears things, because so much of butchness is tied up in the things we put on our body.
Buy it or sew it, fold it, tuck it into your pocket. Just please don’t blow your nose in it.
What makes “men’s” underwear exclusively for men? Is it still men’s underwear if I’m wearing it? Answers: a) absolutely nothing and b) no, sir.
“I almost passed out the first time I bought boy undies. I wish that had been easier. I expected someone to shoot at me. Probably just refuse to sell to me, or laugh, really. But still. Racing heart, whole deal.”
It’s because of the real-life women who took enormous risks to their personal safety, and who physically fought to wear whatever undies, clothing and footwear they damn well pleased that we can have underwear week at all.
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.