I’m afraid I might be butch

So the other day I had just about run out of clean clothes and ended up wearing what I consider a ‘grunge around the house’ outfit that was an even less feminine look than normal for me. Somehow that triggered an intense period of reflection about what kind of lesbian I see myself as being. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t think anybody has to fit themselves into any particular label. This is not about feeling obligated to label myself but it is about figuring out who I am and using the labels to assist in that process.

First off, some background information...

When I was younger, I dressed in very baggy, nondescript clothing. I had very short hair and often got mistaken for a boy. I didn’t know at the time that I was gay, but I knew I didn’t fit in with the other kids and felt very out of place. I wished I could be more girl-like, but I didn’t know how...or at least that’s what I told myself. I blamed it on not having a great mother-daughter relationship and/or not having a lot of girlfriends to do girly things with.

Others disapproved of my looks and clothing choices. It was explained to me that my baggy clothing was likely a response to some sort of shame that I felt – that I was choosing to hide my body and deny my femininity. Being a good Christian girl, I was expected (and believed I wanted) to embrace the person God supposedly made me to be – a woman. I actually remember being prayed for in a deliverance type session to be freed from whatever bondage was holding me back from fully feeling, looking, and acting like a woman (at least in acceptable Christian ways). Shortly after this session, a mother and her daughter took me on as a special project. They taught me about makeup and helped me buy clothes that fit better. I grew my hair out and started getting involved in dance classes. One could say I was a genuine Christian success story.

But changing the outside doesn’t necessarily change the inside. My clothes are casual but generally cut in a feminine fashion, however, I often feel clueless and awkward – trying to figure out shoes and accessories and mixing and matching, etc. is really hard work and I never seem to get it right. I would say that 4 out of 5 times that I leave the house, I feel uncomfortable with how I look. I’ve been blaming it on the fact that I’m overweight. I keep saying that once I’m thinner, wearing feminine clothes will be easy and everything will just fall into place. Unfortunately, the counterevidence to that conclusion is all the overweight and yet still very feminine women out there. Sigh.

Adding to the pressure I felt to adopt more womanly ways was an assumption that the only way I’d ever attract a guy would be to appear feminine. I never felt pretty enough to snag a man and the idea of all the work involved in getting and staying pretty enough just sounded exhausting to me. I was never interested enough in any particular guy to put in that kind of effort and I often wondered if I was a dud.

Then finally three years ago I walked away from the faith of my upbringing and about eight months ago was free enough from its expectations to acknowledge to myself that I was and always have been gay. I wasn’t a dud...I just wasn’t interested in guys. So for the last little while I’ve been celebrating the freedom to be myself and dreaming about being with a woman. I’ve often been asked what my ‘type’ is and have struggled to define that. I haven’t been able to decide which of the women I observe I want to be like, and which I want to be with. I find the soft butches snazzy and the pretty femmes beautiful.

Returning to my internal rumination on what kind of lesbian I am...

I’ve realized a couple of things. First of all, there are women who are attracted to butch types which means dressing more masculine does not necessarily preclude finding love (as it was more likely to do when I was assuming a heterosexual relationship). Second, I have always had a secret desire to shop in the men’s department (seriously...I can remember distinct episodes of looking at the racks longingly but denying myself). Third, I feel most comfortable in my own skin when I dress a bit more butch-like (think Ellen Degeneres and Rachel Maddow style). Fourth, despite wanting to dress a bit more masculine, I am very happy being female – and I still like my long hair.

So, given all that, you’d think that concluding that I’m at least soft butch would be a given, right? Nope, not so easy. For some reason, considering accepting that as my identity and actually allowing myself to live that way evokes a whole lot of emotion. Being that way when I was young was such a negative experience and associated with so much shame and ‘wrongness’, that I’m really afraid to re-embrace it now. It’s not rational, but it’s how I feel.

I actually browsed through the men’s section at Value Village the other day and came home with some men’s t-shirts. I’m wearing one right now and I like how I feel in it. Wearing frilly feminine clothes makes me feel vulnerable and exposed – wearing this silly t-shirt makes me feel together and composed. But the idea of going out in public like this scares the heck out of me. Strange, eh?

My first PRIDE got rained out

So last Saturday I was all excited. I was going to go to my first ever PRIDE event in Burlington. I was even going to be a volunteer. It was a full day, festival in the park type event. I got there an hour early to help set up. At that stage it was drizzling slightly. We dashed back and forth helping vendors set up tents and making signage. We had a few mishaps with water seeping through the gap between two awnings, but remained hopeful.

And then....the light drizzle suddenly escalated into a full fledge downpour. That wouldn’t have been so bad – we could have waited it out – if it hadn’t been accompanied by gusting winds and seriously shocking lighting. Wow! I have never been outside in a storm like that. Our flimsy shelters were no match for its fury. After a few pathetic attempts to hold down tents and rescue merchandise, we abandoned the field and fled to a nearby library.

A flurry of discussions over how to cancel the artists and what to do with the food ensued as we realized that our only option was to cancel the event. So disappointing.

And so my very first PRIDE ever ended in less than an hour and left me soaked to the skin.

This week is Hamilton PRIDE with lots of events hosted by a variety of different organizations. Check out this website for more info. I’ll probably check out a few. But then I think I’m gonna have to go to Toronto just for the experience of it. Will it be something I go to every year? Probably not. But it’s a rite of passage this baby dyke must undertake...just to say I did.