Butch Attitude

I’m more and more coming to the conclusion that being butch is far more about attitude than it is about appearance. In fact, I know two couples in which the more butch looking partner is actually the more feminine of the two in terms of how they think and feel – in other words, their attitude.

But just what is that attitude. I touched on it to some extent in my review of the book “Butch is a Noun” by S. ‘Bear’ Bergman, but I want to try to explore it a bit more here.

When I think of my parents, I see my dad as the visibly stronger one, both emotionally and physically. My mom struggled with depression and sometimes needed a lot of assurance. When things needed taken care of around the house or the car needed packed, that was my dad’s job. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to see that even though she appeared weaker, my mom was just as vital a force within the marriage. She balanced my dad, helped him empathize, gave him the support he needed to do his work with confidence, and of course cooked and cleaned and so on. I don’t think either of them would be who they are without the other. They are 32 years together and going strong.

Now some might criticize me for such a seemingly antiquated view of husband and wife roles...and I’d agree. In no way do I think that relationship roles have to be strictly divided as such (each has its own unique pattern of complements), but it is what I grew up with and thus the experience from which I have to draw when thinking about myself and how I will interact with my future partner(s).

Despite feminist objects to such a dichotomy, at least within heterosexual relationships, there does seem to be a sense that a butch is the broad shoulder that can be leaned upon. Bergman often spoke in hir book about being a safe place for her friends and family.  Ze described the ‘butch’ as the one who tucks the femme’s arm in hirs as they walk down the street, who carries the heavy load, and stares down the menacing onlooker. In essence, the ‘butch’ is more like my dad.

But is a femme like my mom? I don’t really know. I struggle to explain what femme is, probably because I don’t identify as one. I know that I admire their beauty and their ability to create beauty, their hospitality, their understanding of emotions, etc. (but even saying that feels like an unsatisfactory reduction of a complex and endlessly fascinating ‘essence’ into just a few phrases).

I do know that when I see heterosexual couples walking down the street, girl on the guy’s arm, and try to picture myself as that girl, I just can’t do it. But to have a girl on MY arm...oh, now that would be sweet. And it has nothing to do with who can lift more weight, make more money, or any other supposed value comparisons. Is it some sort of arrogance to be unable to see myself leaning on someone else in that way, either physically and metaphorically? I don’t know.

In many ways, thinking of ‘butch’ attitude takes me back to sermons I’ve heard on servant leadership – the most effective leaders are those that put aside their own desires and serve others, building them up and equipping them to be all they can be. The sense I got from Bergman’s book and my own reflections on how I interact with others, is that to be butch is to be a servant. Normally, a leader might be perceived as above the follower, but having a servant attitude reverses that.

I don’t view myself as above anyone. I want to bring strength to my relationships. I want to be a person on whom others can lean. But that doesn’t mean I would have or even want to have the power. In fact, it’s the other person who carries the power as their happiness becomes my goal.

I didn’t include this quote from “Butch is a Noun” earlier because I wanted to use it here. I think it captures this dynamic between butch and femme very well.

 “The truth is, you fill me with desire. Not just sexual desire, though I am certainly not immune to your exquisite charms, but also a different kind of desire, one that I have no language for. What I want more than anything with you is to make you feel as precious, as desirable, as worthy of the attention of a gentleman as you are. Like a lady...like the prettiest girl at the hop. Like a girl who wakes up and puts on lacy matching underwear because you just never know what might happen in a day. A femme once told me that I had inspired her to buy lovely matching underthings, that she had never felt like she deserved them before she knew me, and that still ranks as one of the nicest compliments I have ever received. I want for you to feel delightful and yet still real, not idealized and not put on a pedestal but still capable of bringing a butch to hir knees with desire even though ze knows about your faults and foibles” (p190-191).