Butches and Body Image - Let's Talk About It

[Turtle]

I've never fit in with the society I've observed around me.

Somehow, I know "tomboy" was probably me, but it took awhile to figure out what it meant and if it was a putdown or not because, for me, it just felt like a statement of fact. You could always find me up a tree, riding bikes, or catching frogs (and letting them go) somewhere.

I wanted "boy's underwear," black high tops, and to run around in the summer with my shirt off.

As a teenager, I wanted to cut off my breasts and cut out my uterus...and a couple of times since then...AND I have given birth to two babies and fed those babies with those breasts, which brought me to accepting my body in all of its ways of being.

I've tried having discussions (mostly because I process information better out loud or in expression) with other people about what they think about breasts/no breasts, hormones, etc....and learned that all that doesn't matter, I need to do what I need to do and others do what's best for them.

I do appreciate a good discussion though, on anything.

I have gotten used to not fitting in so neatly with the society around me. I have learned to find like folk. I have learned to say "fuck it." I have come to a place where I really love this life and I just try to share that where I can...no matter what I'm wearing, what's in my pants, or how my hair is cut. Amen.

[AlexHunter]

ScubaDyke - I identify strongly with everything you said. You summed up my sentiments perfectly.

[Novelafemme]

Originally Posted by Turtle

I've never fit in with the society I've observed around me.

Somehow, I know "tomboy" was probably me, but it took awhile to figure out what it meant and if it was a putdown or not because, for me, it just felt like a statement of fact. You could always find me up a tree, riding bikes, or catching frogs (and letting them go) somewhere.

I wanted "boy's underwear," black high tops, and to run around in the summer with my shirt off.

As a teenager, I wanted to cut off my breasts and cut out my uterus...and a couple of times since then...AND I have given birth to two babies and fed those babies with those breasts, which brought me to accepting my body in all of its ways of being.

I've tried having discussions (mostly because I process information better out loud or in expression) with other people about what they think about breasts/no breasts, hormones, etc....and learned that all that doesn't matter, I need to do what I need to do and others do what's best for them.

I do appreciate a good discussion though, on anything.

I have gotten used to not fitting in so neatly with the society around me. I have learned to find like folk. I have learned to say "fuck it." I have come to a place where I really love this life and I just try to share that where I can...no matter what I'm wearing, what's in my pants, or how my hair is cut. Amen.

Fucking, AMEN!!!! I love this post!

[charlie1]

first, let me say how much i have enjoyed these posts. a lot of common ground regarding our paths that have led to self-acceptance.

i too wanted to be a boy. from my earliest memories i was begging my parents for more masculine clothes, boy toys, to cut my hair shorter. i even wore my brother's suit for picture day in second grade. i was very fortunate to have parents that indulged my interests and was given a carpentry set and all sorts of tools, fishing / hunting equipment, bicycles, motorcycles, b-ball, etc from the age of 5. my dad would tell me if i could kiss my elbow i would turn into a boy. i struggled with that contortion.

when it comes to butch energy i believe that is spot on...alive and well. i'm androgyneous. and physically have been able to live as a butch and a femme. now note and i will say again that's physically as a femme. and i did so in my late 20s into my mid-30s because i believed it would help me assimilate more in the corporate world. i grew my hair out, i wore skirts, make-up, earrings. i attracted a lot of butches, i had men try to carry my luggage for me at the airport, etc. but i still had the swagger / mannerisms that conflicted with what people saw and what they sensed about me. if i approached a ticket agent and she had her head down to the computer, she would always say, "how my i help you, sir?" then look up and gulp. i didn't look like a man in drag. i was a beautiful woman. the butch energy just exudes from me.

1997 rolled around. i found myself living in LA with a partner that loved my dichotomy but struggled with her own sexuality and outness. i said fuck all this, shaved my head clean and headed out on my bicycle for a 6-week sabbatical. after 3 weeks i was itching to get back to work...and my head itched under my bandana because my hair was growing out. i haven't ever looked back. i keep my hair short and dress as myself in a butch corporate kind of way. no longer do i focus on being so much a success there as i concentrate on being the best me i can be. don't get me wrong, i still strive to do a great job at work. i don't identify "success" with my job as the target i'm trying to hit any longer. i want my personal happiness and acceptance to be that.

[WomenMoveMe]

"Can I help you, sir?" For so many years this question tumbled from the mouths of those who did not know me. I thought this question came only because they were looking at my height, and the substance of me, and not the whole of me. Surely it could not be that they truly thought I was a man. Yes, I was 6’ tall and lean with shoulders wider than hip. Yes, I had short hair. Yes, I wore men’s clothing and shoes. Was this all it took to be thought a male?

Quickly hunching over in effort to pull my breasts into me, dropping my voice down as many octaves as possible, I attempted to become the man my addresser thought me to be. Without making eye contact, I would hurry to the sanctity of the exit, as I muttered, “just looking". More often than not, they stood staring at me, confused, before apologizing and falling all over themselves to correct their mistake. This only made it worse. I hated myself, as well as the angst and confusion being me, seemingly caused others.

I knew were I to open my mouth to speak, were I to look them squarely in the eye, they would see the error of their way. I knew it would be uncomfortable for them. Why did I care if this person, whom I did not know, was made to feel uncomfortable? It was not my issue after all. It would fall on their shoulders right? They were the ones that did not “see” me. Did not take the time to “see” the woman that stood before them. So many years I blamed others. It took me so very long to understand that they DID “see” me. It was I who did not “see” myself. It was I that was uncomfortable. It saddens me to admit, I performed this on the spot transformation, because I was ashamed and embarrassed. I did this because I did not know then, that is was not only alright to be me, but that being me was something special, and rare.

I can not blame my struggle with my “butchitude” (as I would come to call it) on not knowing any other like me. I can not blame it on the ignorance of others. The struggle was mine. I did not trust that being who and what I was, was alright. It was not until I met, what I was to learn was a “femme”, that I came to know the dynamic I needed in order to realize complete love and acceptance. It was enlightening and life-altering. My person, and my ability to express it, became part of me, and I reveled in it. I felt the personal freedom to no longer hide the masculine essence that was so much a part of me. I embraced it, and it changed my world.

She was the one that helped me understand that not only was I worthy of being loved just as I am, but because of it. And to think, I almost walked away from her because I felt being with me might cause her public embarrassment. My struggle might have lingered, had this beautiful woman not seen me, had not said to me “Listen, you idiot, get over yourself and do it right now! I knew when I got with you people would know I was queer, and for the first time in my life, I don’t care and you shouldn‘t either”.

That statement alone, allowed me to accept who and what I was. It afforded me the ability and the understanding to just be. It gifted me with the confidence to revel in my masculine energy. It gave me happiness and self-acceptance.

Gone are the days of sucking in my chest, of speaking in some distorted voice in effort to appease the comfort levels of others. Butch did not mean I had to be, or was, a man, It did not mean I was not meant to be in my body. I am a butch woman and masculine energy pours forth from within me. It is palpable, and truthfully, it kinda makes me feel desirable. It seems so easy now, being butch. I spent a lot of years struggling internally, but here I sit today, proudly proclaiming, I am butch…I am me.

[Turtle]

Thank you all for sharing yourselves here.

Every time I take a gender test I score androgynous. I certainly had a long time of rejecting my femaleness and I am very thankful for having had my children - not just for the amazing experience of parenting children into adults, but for growing me into a fuller human being and for coming into accepting and liking my femaleness. Being pregnant and breastfeeding is amazing.

And yes, there were times when I struggled with society's perceptions, parameters, and projections. Yes, I worked seriously on the idea of "looking better" with make-up on my face....and getting to the place of "No, I don't want to do that" and what it means for me (please do not read any judgement of what others may do).

And yes, at this point I love it when someone in a store calls me "sir" - then realizes and apologizes - and I say "It's all right - REALLY" in hopes of readjusting the paradigm just a bit.

Sometimes being unique is difficult, but it gets easier - it's one of the good parts about getting older...much of this stuff gets to a more "settled" place...and these kinds of discussions and sharings are part of how I got here. Thank you.

[ArkansasPiscesGrrl]

Originally Posted by WomenMoveMe

"Can I help you, sir?" For so many years this question tumbled from the mouths of those who did not know me. I thought this question came only because they were looking at my height, and the substance of me, and not the whole of me. Surely it could not be that they truly thought I was a man. Yes, I was 6’ tall and lean with shoulders wider than hip. Yes, I had short hair. Yes, I wore men’s clothing and shoes. Was this all it took to be thought a male?

Quickly hunching over in effort to pull my breasts into me, dropping my voice down as many octaves as possible, I attempted to become the man my addresser thought me to be. Without making eye contact, I would hurry to the sanctity of the exit, as I muttered, “just looking". More often than not, they stood staring at me, confused, before apologizing and falling all over themselves to correct their mistake. This only made it worse. I hated myself, as well as the angst and confusion being me, seemingly caused others.

I knew were I to open my mouth to speak, were I to look them squarely in the eye, they would see the error of their way. I knew it would be uncomfortable for them. Why did I care if this person, whom I did not know, was made to feel uncomfortable? It was not my issue after all. It would fall on their shoulders right? They were the ones that did not “see” me. Did not take the time to “see” the woman that stood before them. So many years I blamed others. It took me so very long to understand that they DID “see” me. It was I who did not “see” myself. It was I that was uncomfortable. It saddens me to admit, I performed this on the spot transformation, because I was ashamed and embarrassed. I did this because I did not know then, that is was not only alright to be me, but that being me was something special, and rare.

I can not blame my struggle with my “butchitude” (as I would come to call it) on not knowing any other like me. I can not blame it on the ignorance of others. The struggle was mine. I did not trust that being who and what I was, was alright. It was not until I met, what I was to learn was a “femme”, that I came to know the dynamic I needed in order to realize complete love and acceptance. It was enlightening and life-altering. My person, and my ability to express it, became part of me, and I reveled in it. I felt the personal freedom to no longer hide the masculine essence that was so much a part of me. I embraced it, and it changed my world.

She was the one that helped me understand that not only was I worthy of being loved just as I am, but because of it. And to think, I almost walked away from her because I felt being with me might cause her public embarrassment. My struggle might have lingered, had this beautiful woman not seen me, had not said to me “Listen, you idiot, get over yourself and do it right now! I knew when I got with you people would know I was queer, and for the first time in my life, I don’t care and you shouldn‘t either”.

That statement alone, allowed me to accept who and what I was. It afforded me the ability and the understanding to just be. It gifted me with the confidence to revel in my masculine energy. It gave me happiness and self-acceptance.

Gone are the days of sucking in my chest, of speaking in some distorted voice in effort to appease the comfort levels of others. Butch did not mean I had to be, or was, a man, It did not mean I was not meant to be in my body. I am a butch woman and masculine energy pours forth from within me. It is palpable, and truthfully, it kinda makes me feel desirable. It seems so easy now, being butch. I spent a lot of years struggling internally, but here I sit today, proudly proclaiming, I am butch…I am me.

this almost brought me to tears. so beautiful and powerful and fierce.... the truth! thank you!

[Scuba]

Originally Posted by WomenMoveMe

"Can I help you, sir?" For so many years this question tumbled from the mouths of those who did not know me. I thought this question came only because they were looking at my height, and the substance of me, and not the whole of me. Surely it could not be that they truly thought I was a man. Yes, I was 6’ tall and lean with shoulders wider than hip. Yes, I had short hair. Yes, I wore men’s clothing and shoes. Was this all it took to be thought a male?

Quickly hunching over in effort to pull my breasts into me, dropping my voice down as many octaves as possible, I attempted to become the man my addresser thought me to be. Without making eye contact, I would hurry to the sanctity of the exit, as I muttered, “just looking". More often than not, they stood staring at me, confused, before apologizing and falling all over themselves to correct their mistake. This only made it worse. I hated myself, as well as the angst and confusion being me, seemingly caused others.

I knew were I to open my mouth to speak, were I to look them squarely in the eye, they would see the error of their way. I knew it would be uncomfortable for them. Why did I care if this person, whom I did not know, was made to feel uncomfortable? It was not my issue after all. It would fall on their shoulders right? They were the ones that did not “see” me. Did not take the time to “see” the woman that stood before them. So many years I blamed others. It took me so very long to understand that they DID “see” me. It was I who did not “see” myself. It was I that was uncomfortable. It saddens me to admit, I performed this on the spot transformation, because I was ashamed and embarrassed. I did this because I did not know then, that is was not only alright to be me, but that being me was something special, and rare.

I can not blame my struggle with my “butchitude” (as I would come to call it) on not knowing any other like me. I can not blame it on the ignorance of others. The struggle was mine. I did not trust that being who and what I was, was alright. It was not until I met, what I was to learn was a “femme”, that I came to know the dynamic I needed in order to realize complete love and acceptance. It was enlightening and life-altering. My person, and my ability to express it, became part of me, and I reveled in it. I felt the personal freedom to no longer hide the masculine essence that was so much a part of me. I embraced it, and it changed my world.

She was the one that helped me understand that not only was I worthy of being loved just as I am, but because of it. And to think, I almost walked away from her because I felt being with me might cause her public embarrassment. My struggle might have lingered, had this beautiful woman not seen me, had not said to me “Listen, you idiot, get over yourself and do it right now! I knew when I got with you people would know I was queer, and for the first time in my life, I don’t care and you shouldn‘t either”.

That statement alone, allowed me to accept who and what I was. It afforded me the ability and the understanding to just be. It gifted me with the confidence to revel in my masculine energy. It gave me happiness and self-acceptance.

Gone are the days of sucking in my chest, of speaking in some distorted voice in effort to appease the comfort levels of others. Butch did not mean I had to be, or was, a man, It did not mean I was not meant to be in my body. I am a butch woman and masculine energy pours forth from within me. It is palpable, and truthfully, it kinda makes me feel desirable. It seems so easy now, being butch. I spent a lot of years struggling internally, but here I sit today, proudly proclaiming, I am butch…I am me.

Well said!!! Although not 6 foot tall, this was my experience as well!