"can i help you, sir?"

I had to entertain an executive’s 10-year-old daughter for a portion of my day today. I was just one in a line of employees in my department who had to chat with her about what we do. Secretly, I think he just forgot he was supposed to do something with her today, so he sent her to us.

I showed her a few things I’ve worked on and asked her a few questions. The kid is pretty bright, I will say that. It wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong; I like kids, and I’m good  with them. But there’s something about having them at work that totally throws me off. It’s hard for me to switch from work mode to kid-friendly mode sometimes. But she and I had a pretty good time.

At one point, she asked me if she could ask a few ice breaker questions that she’d brought with her. Her first question was simple enough: What historical sporting event do you wish you could attend? Easy: the 1908 World Series, which is the last time the Chicago Cubs won. Her next question: If you could change your name to anything, what would it be?

Yeah, what would it be? I was stumped. I’m actually totally at peace with my given name; it feels comfortable on me. It’s not super feminine, which I think would make me uncomfortable. Balancing my masculinity with a feminine name would bother me on some level, I think. I can’t imagine being a Sarah or Vanessa or Mindy. Those names are all perfectly fine, by the way; it’s nothing against the name, I’m just glad it’s not my name. The only names that had come to mind were those that could go either way: Sam, Jesse, Shawn, you get the idea. I told her I was at a loss, but she apparently wasn’t.

“You look like a Chase to me. That would be a good one for you. Or Chandler.”

“You’re not, like, a regular girl. You look like you’d want a cool name instead of a pretty one.”*

It might seem like a little thing, but in that few minutes, I felt like this kid actually saw me. She looked at me and actually thought about what I would like. She gauged my mannerisms, looks and personality and came to a conclusion that was incredibly insightful, in my opinion. I actually really appreciated it, even though I couldn’t express to her why. And then we were off, talking about her totally weird neighbor who had a baby girl and named her Xantha.

The whole experience reminded me why I actually like kids. No judgment, no expectations, no rules. A lot of adults could learn from that.

*Wanting something cool instead of something pretty could pretty much sum up my life’s wishes. Barbie? No thank you. Pocketknife? Yes, please.

I know I write mostly about what it means to me to be butch and feel masculinity, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my feminine self. I’ve always thought of butch as an intersection of sorts between masculinity and femininity, sex and gender. I don’t think my version of butch is any different – hovering somewhere along those axes, at different points depending on the day or circumstances.

I know we all have a mix of masculine and feminine energy to some extent, but I’ve been wondering – where is my feminine side? At first I was thinking, “Well okay, there’s my body, my voice sometimes …” but then I realized I needed to make the clear distinction between what is female and what is feminine. Biology and psychology are two very different things.

Generally speaking, my traits (and by traits, I’m speaking primarily to my internal, emotional motivators versus behavior) are overwhelmingly masculine. This is based on both how I feel, as well as some reading I’ve done regarding which traits are widely considered masculine vs. feminine. Before people go freaking out, I’m not saying that a feminine woman can’t be aggressive, direct, emotionless, rough, etc; we’re all hybrids, you know? I’m simply looking to identify all of the parts of me to better be able to understand myself.

I’m not saying I’m about to walk around in my underwear in a field and sing about how I wear no pants. (I don’t even want to think about how many ticks those guys picked up in the process. Sick. Not to mention that the whole concept is just stupid.) I’m just trying to be a little more aware of my feminine side.

How do you feel about the gender mix of your traits? Can you readily identify which parts of you are masculine or feminine, outside of what may be outwardly visible?

Why can't there be more women like Erin Phillips in my league?

Sports are a funny thing. I’ve been playing ever since I could walk, maybe before, due in no small part to the fact that I have five older brothers who all played one sport or another. Some of my earliest memories include shooting hoops with my brothers in the driveway, or football out in the street. My brothers taught me how to run, shoot, throw, swing, catch, ride a bike. But more than that, they taught me how to move: how to anticipate a throw or a tag, when to accelerate or decelerate, and how to time a jump so I could block a shot.

Although I’ve played volleyball, soccer, softball and basketball teams and run track & field at various times of my life, I ended up going to college on a basketball scholarship.  I didn’t play like a girl; I played like my brothers, and I’ve heard it countless times: “You play like a dude.” I was fucking tough. I dove on the floor, I pushed people around, I hit the ball hard and far, and I wasn’t afraid of confrontation or of the physicality of it all – and I have the scars to prove it. It became part of my identity, not only because I was known for playing, but because I felt like myself when I played.

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I’ve been thinking about this in the past couple of weeks since I started my new basketball league. It’s years later (and no, I’m telling how many) and I’m recognizing now that there is something about playing ball for me that just draws out my masculinity. I can feel it in my body as soon as I start lacing up my shoes. It’s the way my posture changes. The way my chest puffs out. Even the way I wear my shorts and t-shirt. My entire physical demeanor becomes more aggressive.   And if I have a girl watching me, or see a hot woman in the stands, don’t even get me started on how much I’ll show off. I feel like some animal from a National Geographic documentary.

An example of my energy shift is something that happened last week at my basketball game, when I took a blindsided cheap shot after the buzzer from a much bigger girl (think three inches taller and probably 30 pounds heavier – and I’m 5’11″ to begin with!) that knocked me clean off my feet and on to my back about four feet. Once I realized what happened, I got up and went after her, asking her very nicely if there was a problem. And when I say ask nicely, I mean I yelled, “What the FUCK is your PROBLEM?” My teammates stepped in, her teammates stepped in, and after running my mouth for a minute (I think I clapped for her and chanted, “M-V-P!” and told her I’d see her on the all-star team. God, I’m an ass when someone does something stupid), it was over: a 3-or 4-minute dust up, nothing more.

To me, it’s not about the argument, because I don’t often fight. It’s about the don’t-mess-with-me attitude that comes out. I feel more alive and more in my body when I’m playing a sport than any other time. It feels like my heart is pumping pure soul and adrenaline through my veins. It’s almost – no, it’s totally – sexual in nature, just the way my skin is electric and pure instinct takes over.

This got me wondering: are there things you do that just make you feel alive? Things that make you feel more yourself than anything else?

I had drinks with a couple of good friends last night. It was much needed; even though (or maybe due to the fact?) I just got back from vacation, this week has been torturous to navigate. After dinner at a local pub, we decided to head back to one friend’s nearby house. They both beat me there, but when I arrived they were both standing in the driveway.

“You know about cars, right?” my friend S said to me, giggling. My other friend D was having an issue with her car, and as the only lesbian with two straight and self-proclaimed “girly girls,” I was the obvious solution. S quipped that it just made sense to see me under the hood of a car. Five minutes later, I’d solved the problem.

Fast forward to the next situation. S mentioned that she thinks she has a dead mouse in her backyard. Again, I was called upon to go investigate while they stood timidly at the back door. [Sidebar: there was no mouse, although I did manage to provide a scare courtesy of abrown leaf.]

Fast forward again to the next situation: The sun had gone down, there was a chill in the air, but we wanted to sit on the deck to enjoy the view and one more drink. S has one of those propane-powered heat towers, but when D suggested using it, S said she had no idea how; she’d just received it as a gift from Home Depot with a different purchase. Again, both sets of eyes looked to me for the know-how on something that was completely foreign to them. I ended up switching out a couple of gas tanks until I found one that had gas in it, but damn right I got the pilot light on and the heater working within a couple of minutes. I joked to them that while they were drinking, I was working my ass off. Continue reading

Usually I’m behind the camera, but recently a friend of mine asked me to model for a shoot she was planning. I said yes because I like to support other photographers, but also because I really loved her ideas. I thought they really fit my personality, and she encouraged me to be authentic. I won’t get into the details of the theme, but it involved me shopping for an unconventional three-piece suit.

I had completely mixed feelings about this. I was thrilled because I’ve been wanting to pick up a few butch pieces for a long time, and this was the perfect occasion for that. I was a little anxious though, because while I shop exclusively in the men’s department, I haven’t shopped for ties before. Shopping was actually a breeze. A little old lady who works in the men’s department at Macy’s was amazing. She led me around, helping me figure out the right combination of pieces and getting me some great deals in the process. I was particularly happy with the Perry Ellis collection tie I picked up.

Here’s one of the photos from the shoot, the result of us playing with a high-powered fan:

That shot is without the tailored-fit khaki jacket (I’d lost it by this point in the shoot), but I’ve got the polka-dotted tie, a t-shirt, suit vest, and plaid golf shorts. I just wore flip flops since my feet weren’t going to make it into the shots.

The shoot was great. I felt completely comfortable, and I think that led to a relaxed, fun shoot. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have felt as good about it had I been in pumps, so thankfully that wasn’t part of the plan. My outfit just felt so right – the way it fit, the way I felt like it looked, and just the way it felt physically. It made up for all those times growing up when my clothes felt so wrong (some of those dresses, OY) on my body. This time around, everything felt and fit like it was made for me. Plus I got to drink, eat strawberries and whipped cream, jump on a trampoline, and mess around with a martini shaker set. If that isn’t a good day, then I don’t know what.

I appreciated the photo shoot for the fun that it was and for the inspiration to finally go out and buy my first tie. I’m thinking it will be the first of several, and I can’t wait for my next opportunity to get all dressed up with somewhere to go. I’m also so grateful to my friend who came up with the creative idea in the first place. I hope to keep people like that around in my life.