I am a law-abiding American. As a rule follower, I know I have nothing to fear, but still private rooms in airports have always scared me. They seem like places -- at least in the movies -- where you go in, bad things happen to you, and you stay a long time without any family or counsel.
It's not that I'm interested in being a guy, or taking on a romantic role other than my own, but Travolta is part of my adolescent history. He's really the only male actor I've imitated with any regularity -- and I became Travolta across a range of characters.
What I find fascinating is that I went from bi invisibility due to my long hair and "straight" appearance to bi invisibility due to my short hair and "gay" appearance. I had no idea that so many people would feel so strongly about my appearance and my head of hair.
She is a successful and talented jewelry designer. She is charitable. And, did I mention the smoking hot part? Well, after I talked to her I also learned that she is very smart, an extremely hard worker, passionate about giving back, grounded.
We had talked about language not long after we got engaged, but hadn't come to any conclusions. I didn't like referring to myself as the "bride" because that has very girly/feminine connotations to it for me.
I didn't really realize how amazing it would be to be in a room full of butches -- let me repeat: a whole room full of butches -- to look around and see butches everywhere. I was giddy with excitement to... belong. To be a part of the crowd. To fit in. I'd never really fit it before.
How would unsuspecting passersby answer the question, "What do you think a lesbian looks like?" The on-the-spot question: "Can you name three lesbians in the media or popular-culture?" Some people's answers may surprise you.
The question is driven in part by nostalgia and in part by a discomfort with what seems to have been a shift in the way that young lesbians think about gender. And the first question often leads to others: Why are all the butches becoming men?
Most people who spew such nonsense expect me to delight in their backhanded praise, but believing that there is a point at which a woman is too attractive to be gay is based on the assumption that heterosexual women are inherently better-looking, and that's homophobic.
I know that you may be so delighted, so intrigued with my life experiences that you want to know how you, too, can be butch. If only there were an instruction manual. Wait just a tick! I have found such a manual -- which I have written! Read on for a step-by-step guide to being a proper butch.
Last weekend I went to the Dinah, as we lesbians call it. For those of you who don't know, the Dinah Shore Weekend in Palm Springs is the biggest lesbian party of the year -- our spring break, if you will -- and this year I was single! Here are my highlights, in no particular order.
I usually don't have to come out. When I walk into a room, people know I'm a dyke -- unless they mistake me for a dude. Whatev. But recently I had to decide whether to come out. Again. This happened when a reader of my anonymous blog was kind enough to send a post of mine to HuffPost.
I am filing a complaint with the TSA. They need to know what this feels like. They need to make some changes. There should be another way to do this, another way to handle those of us who don't conform to gender stereotypes, so that we don't feel less than human.
Once upon a time, I tried not to date anyone shorter then me, not because I think any less of shorter women, but as a femme, I had it stuck in my head that my partner should and would be taller and bigger than me.
Does knowing you're gay early in life affect what type of lesbian you're going to end up being? Or is a butch a butch and a femme a femme no matter when the proverbial lightbulb goes off that says "Oh, I'm so gay!"?