Butches and Body Image - Let's Talk About It

[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!