"Can I help you, sir?"

When I went to San Francisco last fall, a group of us (including FFAF) went to a tour of a local winery, which included a little mixology session that included lovely cocktails like this. The other people at our table – a couple from Kalamazoo and some women from Texas – asked how we all knew each other, and the subject of our blogs came up. Um. How to explain what I write about? I don’t remember how the exchange with our group went verbatim, but it felt like this:

G: “I write about gender.”
Them: Blink blink.
G: “I write about every day experiences of being butch.”
Them: Blink blink.
G: “Like you know, uh, female masculinity.” I was sweating by this point and wanted to chug the sparkling wine straight from the bottle.
Them: Blink blink.

I don’t even know how I wrapped it up. It was a blur. Those poor ladies from Texas; all they wanted was some booze!

It’s challenging to explain my butch identity and presentation to people who don’t discuss gender very often (I base this scientific hypothesis strictly on the fact that I’ve never heard them discuss gender). This group includes some of my closest friends. I believe that they absolutely love me for who I am, but I think the word butch would make them flinch a little. Let’s be honest, the general population doesn’t use butch in a very flattering manner when they’re referring to women. In fact, when I was doing some research about it, I came across an online dictionary that even called it an offensive term. I’m sure there are many women out there who don’t want to be seen as masculine or manly or anything of the sort, and there are others who, while they might identify as some degree of masculine, want nothing to do with the word butch for a variety of reasons. There’s nothing wrong with that, since we all determine our own identity.

I get misread for a guy and “sir”d every day. I prefer to wear men’s clothes. I get “Wrong bathroom!”ed on a semi-regular basis. I’ve always been attracted to women – not because I couldn’t get a man, but because that’s the way I’m wired. I get stared at a lot, and I get worried if someone stares a little too long. I don’t get offended if someone refers to me as anything feminine, but I do kind of double check to make sure they’re not talking to someone else. I don’t feel like I had to have these experiences to qualify as butch (we all do it differently, right?), nor do I feel like I’m only butch because of experiences like them. I took a long and winding path to arrive at this destination, and it feels like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, even on the toughest days.

So for me, the word butch isn’t offensive – it’s the spot-on truth. Butch feels synonymous with strong, sensitive, brave and protective. Even the word itself is concise and powerful. I don’t just tolerate or accept the term, I embrace it as a critical piece of me.

My parents have been pretty healthy for as long as I can remember, traveling and living a relatively active life. In the past year or so, they’ve both had some really serious health issues that gave all of us kids a wake-up call. As active as they’ve been, they’re still 81 and 75 years old. My dad had a heart episode late last summer, and he ended up getting a pacemaker. It was a dicey couple of weeks following the surgery (mostly with trying to get him to sit the hell down and take it easy), but he has recovered well and actually feels better than he has in years.

But my mom, well. She has struggled for some time now, and the myriad of doctors and specialists she’s seen can’t pinpoint the problem. It’s some kind of auto-immune issue, and it’s causing her body to basically turn on itself, one major organ or system at a time. Lungs, liver, kidneys … she’s had problems with all of them. Just when the docs stabilize it, something else goes wrong; every time something goes wrong, she has to undergo a new set of tests and treatments. She’s been rushed to the ER and admitted to the hospital multiple times. And you know how at the end of those pharmaceutical commercials, they have an endless list of potential side effects? I swear, it seems like my mom has had to deal with every one of them.

This has understandably worn her down. One night, after praying together about her health, she turned to my dad and asked, “How long do you want me to hold on?”

It’s certainly nonplussing enough to enter the generation of kids taking care of their parents, but my complicated relationship with them only muddies the emotional waters for me. I’ve mentioned before that I feel like I lost my parents when I came out. My parents’ reaction to my coming out significantly altered the dynamic between us. I assumed it would just always stay that way – them playing the role of devastated parents and me playing the pariah. But in recent years it has improved; we don’t really talk about anything substantive – small talk is our specialty – but at least it’s pleasant.

I do a pretty good job of feeling at peace with that most days. I’ve worked to accept our relationship as it is, one that is neither here nor there, close nor estranged. Even when her health started suffering, I felt like I could maintain my stoic front despite feeling kind of foggy about it. But after a conversation with my mom the other day, my emotional walls are crumbling a bit. She’s doing worse now; her lungs are under attack again, and her kidneys are staging a coup. She sounded more defeated than I’ve ever heard her before. My dad is worried enough that he now spends most of his time at or near home, so he can keep an eye on her and care for her. (Today is their 55th wedding anniversary, by the way.) It feels like a turning point, and my brothers and sisters feel the same. Continue reading

This past weekend was just what the doctor ordered. Or would’ve ordered, if I’d gone to a doctor and asked her to give me something perfect to help me relax (besides Valium).

The sun came out for REAL, the temps warmed up to the low 80s, and that meant heading off to a local tulip festival with my niece, her husband, and their girls. It was awesome! The good stuff: gazillions of flowers, not just tulips. Looking for frogs under the bridges. Some huge fountain that looked like a bunch of overflowing bathtubs. Rabbits! Big, grassy fields. Watching my great-nieces do cartwheels and then getting street cred when I did one, too. Feeding the fish. Giving piggyback rides. The best part was probably when my little niece was getting super fussy in her stroller; I joked that she just wanted me to hold her, and she stopped crying the SECOND I picked her up. Because I am awesome and am the favorite aunt/uncle, obviously.

The past several weeks (and couple of months, actually) have been wonderful and trying on a variety of levels. Just last week I felt like I was reaching my saturation point with all of the shitty stuff that is going on in our country, let alone the rest of the world. (Sidebar: I hate election years and the accompanying insanity/shitstorm.) My tolerance for asshats in my personal life and and the public eye is at an all-time low. Weekends like this are a great chance to unplug from the rest of that bullshit and revel in the incredible people in my life: B, my friends and my family. Did I mention that there were rabbits?

Last week, something happened that was both groundbreaking and heartbreaking to me: LGBT students at Brigham Young University – a private school owned by the LDS church – released an “It Gets Better” video.

I hesitated to write about this, because the conservative LDS church’s views about gays aren’t any kind of news flash. This is copied and pasted almost verbatim from one of their affiliate sites:

- Many gay Mormons wish to overcome their same-sex attraction in order to have a successful eternal marriage and gain all the blessings promised by the Lord. It is a long and difficult struggle to change one’s sexual orientation, but despite the denial of many pro-gay groups and psychologists, there are many formerly gay Mormons that have done it.  The Mormon Church will not bow to popular opinion that asserts because ‘they were born that way’, gays and lesbians should be permitted to live a homosexual lifestyle.
- The Mormon Church cannot compromise the laws of God and counsels those who wish to follow Christ but suffer from same-sex attraction to work to overcome it.
- The tendency toward homosexuality is sometimes unfairly stigmatized but in Mormon doctrine is not treated any different than adultery, fornication, or any other sinful act.

Despite being taught that they’re not permitted to live their lives authentically and that they suffer from The Gay, these students came out and represented a new generation of Mormons. That choked me up, because going public was never even a whispered possibility in all of the years I spent in that religious culture as a kid and young adult. I was honestly moved by their courage. So does it get better for them? I suppose as far as coming out and not getting banished from the school or church, yes. (Hey, that’s way better than the horrific electroshock aversion therapy BYU conducted on students who thought they might be gay back in the 70s.) But what about the rest of their lives? That part is heartbreaking to me. Continue reading