After I wrote the post about being a queer woman, I had a really interesting discussion over IM with a friend of mine. She talked about how she periodically measures her femmeness by determining how sexy she is. I’ll be the first person to admit that I’m a little baffled by the femme experience, but the conversation got me thinking about how we apply sexual attractiveness to gender and how we measure how femme, how butch, how woman, or how man we are. How do we set ourselves up against someone else and think, this person is more (or less) butch than me? What determines the quantity of gender, and by contrast, what about the quality? Could I be measurably more butch, but less real in my presentation?
Truth be told, I think I’m pretty sexy. Any one of my ex-girlfriends, and even my current girlfriend, will attest to my substantial vanity. I look in the mirror and think, that’s a hot babe. Sometimes, I feel an urge to be extra sexy, especially when I’m going to Gaycation or any one of the other queer dance parties in Portland. The way that I satisfy the urge to be more sexy is to apply a femme technique to my outward appearance. I’ll show more skin, either by rolling up my sleeves or unbuttoning my shirt. I’ll wear eyeliner and pluck my eyebrows. I’ll find a femme edge to my butch nature, and become, what I consider to be, extra sexy.
In amongst the meandering personal tales of a baby dyke on her way to discovering her inner butch, is a story of an intense and awkward obstacle that confuses me to this day. I wasn’t yet 21 years old, excitedly exploring a new relationship with a femme girlfriend and all the wonders that entailed. I was certainly trying to be open to new ideas regarding sex (I’m a missionary man by default), and an idea my girlfriend had freaked me out so bad that I was sobbing explosively all over the place. All she wanted me to do was to put on a teddy - you know, the red and white, lacy, frilly things that don’t cover much of your body. With every encouraging word she said to try to get me to at least try it on, the more upset I became. I felt like the whole world was imploding, and I cried for a long time.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t wear something so obviously sexy, so feminine. I’ve dressed in drag a number of times, and enjoyed it, with short skirts and low cut tops and lots of makeup, but the teddy thing just sent me right over the edge. I know that it’s wrapped up in the relationship between sex and gender, but I can’t quite grasp what it means.
When I’ve dressed in drag (it’s been many, many years since the last time), I have felt very femme and very sexy. I certainly equated the amount of sexiness I felt with the amount of femmeness I felt. I suppose that’s one of those cultural constructs we have that applies a sexual value to women. I wonder how femmes feel about that.
I’ve witnessed the posturing that goes on among us butches to establish dominance and control. I remember learning of the word “posturing” in the context of butch and laughing at how perfect a word it is. Who can be tougher, stronger, colder, rougher, and more placating? Who’s more butch? I’ve certainly felt less butch than people, especially when they are dirtier and more closed than I am. Being comfortable in my gender, I haven’t really worried about it. I guess I don’t remember what it was like when I was trying to figure out my gender among a bunch of distant bullies. I probably blocked it out.
Other than all that silly posturing, I don’t know if us butches really feel all that concerned about “how butch” we are. I’m only assuming that femmes have the opposite experience. This entire post only serves to show that I really don’t understand very much about any of this, but maybe I’m edging a little closer to my truth.
