Sending a little Thank-You your way..
Us Butches are nothing without all you Femmes..

I know its really easy for us to act a certain way because that is what the straight world expects of us. If only they would accept us for who we all are and not make us act a certain way or be a certain person just to appease them. Absolutely butches and femmes have feelings; we all want to be accepted and loved without the fear of being rejected.

These posts are great...I have enjoyed reading them.

I went out last night and yes, I dressed to the hilt. I found a black "Jones Wear" dress at the second hand store, tags were still on it, a pair of black 3" pumps, black strapless bra, skimpy undies, black thigh hose, bangles, necklace, large hoop earrings and yes those are fake glue on nails. I had Starryeyes help me with the makeup and my hair and I went into San Diego and met up with some friends at an event. I managed to walk and stand for 3 hours last night, before I finally had enough and changed back into my real clothes....I admire the femmes for putting so much work into being femme. It was a lot of work to get myself out the door and park the car, catch the shuttle and head over to the event without guys oogling and staring at me. Walking up the long flight of stairs and not tripping was a hoot.

Would I do it again...perhaps, for me being a butch is not on the outside, but on the inside. I am a woman first and it felt good to embrace the feminine side of myself, if only just for a night.

I am sharing the link here. http://s206.photobucket.com/albums/b...gan%20picture/

Reading the last page or so of this thread made me think of the last time I wore a dress. It was at my father’s funeral. I hadn’t worn anything of the kind for many years before that. I did it to make a statement. I did it as a kind of tribute to my dad. Yet, my father would have been the last person to give a fat rat’s ass what I wore.

He was always very okay with the way I dressed and pretty much with me in general. It was because of him that I had any boy toys at all to play with growing up. He always defended me to my mother. My poor mother could never get her head around my behavior. She really couldn’t get it. She would glance my way with a puzzled expression as I rode the ends of the couch up to the saloon, swaggered in and put a crayon or a piece of dry spaghetti in my mouth as a stand in for a cigarette and drank water out of shot glasses while I played cards and got in fights. These fights consisted of punching myself and throwing myself around the room and wrestling with myself on the ground until I beat the shit out the bad guys.

Then my sister was born. She was very feminine and loved to wear my mother’s high heels and put stuff on her head and play wedding. She wore tiaras and loved being the princess. My mother was so pleased. Fast forward fifteen years and she was completely flummoxed when she brought her butch girlfriend home for a visit.

My dad seemed to be okay with whoever his kids were. When I was little he always tried to make peace in the home while not squashing who I was. When I wanted to wear my guns to church instead of freaking out about how girls shouldn’t be playing with guns like my mom did, he would explain how guns, even toy ones, didn’t belong in church. When I complained about how I had to dress to go to Mass, he would tell me how lots of real bad asses wore long coats. All the better to hide stuff in and besides he would say, it just looked cool. He taught me to fight and he was proud of how good I was at it. Keep your hands up he would say as he smacked me in the mouth to emphasize the importance. He would tell his friends what a good fighter I was. He also taught me to fish, hunt with a bow and arrow and shoot a gun. Not to mention how to throw a football, hit a baseball and pitch a wicked curve. Put some English on it he would say to me. He taught me to swim and dive and always told me I could do anything I wanted to do.

He was quite a dapper dresser. He never considered certain colors off limits. When I think of my dad I often see him in a pink shirt with a pink and purple striped tie, a very cool handkerchief in his jacket pocket and a fedora on his head. I loved to dress in his clothes as a kid.

So when I decided to wear a dress to his funeral it was a surprise to me. I don’t know why it felt right, but it did. It was something I did for him even though he never would have asked me to or even really cared if I did or not, except in that it would please my mother. So the reason I wore a dress was not to make my mother happy even though it did, it was because my mother’s happiness was important to my father and also because throughout my life he tried so hard to keep peace between us. It was for him, especially because he wouldn’t care and he wouldn’t ask.

I don't imagine I will ever do it again. Even reading this sounds like I think wearing a dress is some kind of immense sacrifice. LOL, I guess it is. It feels like it compromises who I am. It feels like I am participating in my own oppression. I'm speaking just for myself here. If you're butch and you like dresses, I mean like them on you, that's cool. I don't feel good about wearing stuff like that. It's wrapped up in all kinds of baggage for me.

I've been following this thread, and finally I will jump in.
First, when I decide to wear a dress, I look hot. This stands to reason: when I decide to wear a dress, I go all out-- it fits fabulously, my shoes and accessories are stylish, and I WORK The Dress. I have a lot of confidence, and people respond to confidence, no? As a butch, I understand that it is all about how you wear the outfit, not the outfit.

Another point to add here: Several posts here seem to refer to "drag" as a negative thing, and that is not cool. Drag queens are people who are expressing their truth. Some of my dear friends are drag queens. Also, as a feminist, i feel that drag queens make an important contribution politically by pointing out "performative" femininity in our sexist society.

I challenge butches to find another way to describe their appearance than to assume we all are snorting with derision at references to drag.

my butch partner does drag...some of the comments about wearing dresses and about drag in this thread made me wonder (in a positive way) if others ever do drag and find it a fun way to express themselves.

I never looked very good in a dress. I have had to wear women’s clothes for some jobs. I wore blouses and slacks, pant suits, some make-up now and again and jewelry. I have femmed it up a bit like that to go out occasionally for fun. But it never fails that someone will remark how I look like I’m in drag. It's better if I don't move cause once I commence walking the illusion is gone. I think it's kind of interesting and gender bending for someone who is female to do drag by dressing up as female, same if someone who is male does drag by dressing up as male. I mean it doesn't look like drag if I dress like a guy. Except for the breasts it looks like a guy, a pretty one for sure, but a guy nonetheless. So it's kind of a 21st century type of drag. Maybe. I sure don't mean any disrespect. And good on ya if you are a butch who looks good dressed in traditionally feminine clothing. I don't. I don't mind playing at dressing up in feminine attire. I just know I can't seriously pull it off.

I dress in what society-at-large considers "drag" every single day. I put myself out into the world as a woman-id'd butch who passes as a man just as often as not...and that is MY truth. Any comments here that might appear derisive toward drag seem to be directed inward at the posters who experienced awkwardness and discomfort in clothing that does NOT express their truths.

The only difference between me and a drag queen is that I don't do shows. :dance2:

It was bound to happen. It always does.

drag is the clothes you have on........

drag queens are entirely different except when they aren't........all I know is the draq queens that helped me along my butch path told me not to ever wear a dress because I looked like a horrible bad drag queen......

the last time I had on a dress....well it was a military uniform skirt, shirt, jacket...was at a WAC (women's army corps) gathering in SF in the mid-80s. I was in the color guard. The last time I wore a civilian dress/skirt was in 1970 when I graduated from high school. We could not wear pants to school, girls had to wear dress or skirt and the length was no shorter than 3inches from the middle of the knee (you had to kneel and it was measured from the floor).......

I never ever felt comfortable in a dress or skirt....except for military uniforms.....that kind of drag just is not me. I am the oldest generation in my family so I don't have to please parents grandparents aunties uncles and neither of my sisters would ever think I should wear a dress/skirt.

me too bud!!!