A couple of posts ago, I referred to myself, in my youth, as a stone butch. This created a controversy. Everyone has their own ideas about what a stone butch is. All negative. And they didn’t include me. Butch, no argument, but not stone. That is because I am, and aways have been, a big softy. A big hugger, a big kisser, and a big cuddler. I’m sweet and I’m considerate. With humans and with dogs. I just don’t like taking my clothes off or having my “girl” parts fiddled with.
Stone butch sounds hard and immovable. Stone butch sounds cold and rough. It isn’t. I’m not made out of bedrock. I am a butch with contradictions. I am a butch with limits. Some labels are too hard, some labels are too soft, and none of them feels just right. Not even the little bear’s. Continue reading →
I started this blog a year ago because I needed to think through whether I was butch or transgender and to get a better understanding of the interplay between my sexual identity and my gender identity. Like a truck trying to get out of the mud, I’ve spun my wheels and dug myself deeper in. That’s OK, it’s where I belong. I’m still both. I am not getting out of my rut, I am getting more comfortable in it.
If I could do it over, I would have started this process when I was twenty-five. I’d rather be twenty-five right now. If I was, I probably would be making different choices. At twenty-five, transitioning might have been the right choice. I’ll never know. In middle-age, it seems less appealing.
When I was twenty-five I had just fallen in love with Donna, and I was trying to figure out how to be in a relationship. I was a stone butch, but I didn’t want to be. I was ashamed of it. I thought I should be enjoying sex. Everybody else was. I knew something was wrong, I still wanted to be a boy, but I couldn’t admit it to anyone. Not even my therapist. I tried and I ended up quitting therapy (only to start up again with someone else I couldn’t talk to about it for a very long time). Continue reading →