Page 130 of Nearly Roadkill
So my dick is still there, technically. It’s just in another, more palatable shape. I have an innie now, not an outie.
::laughing merrily:: No, I don’t miss it. I never hated my dick, though. I hadda lotta joy with that thing. It was sweet, in a vulnerable way. I loved making myself come with it. What I hated is what it made me in the eyes of everyone else: a man. What I’ve been learning with you is that gender is as much how people relate to you as it is what you feel, and all these people were relating to me as a man, and it was all because of this thing hanging down between my legs, so… snip snip. Happily gone.
Scratch:Do you have all female parts and do you come?
Winc:::eyes sparkling:: Female parts? When did we become such a prude, dear heart? I have a surgically-constructed vulva, vagina, cervix, and clitoris, if that’s what you want to know. I have no internal stuff like uterus and ovaries.
But wait… what exactly are female parts? I know some terrific women with dicks, and some truly manly men with pussies. And no, you can’t ask me if female = woman and male = man. Well, you can ask me but then you’ll have to watch my brain fry. Right in front of you.
Do I come?
::softly:: Yeah, I can. I do. I have with you.
Scratch:::blushing:: Okay, well then.
Hope these questions are okay. The more I ask my questions, the more I recognize myself. And yes, I had to learn how to act female, too, and I was born one.
Now, please ask me the questions you’ve got.
Winc:Okay, first a confession. I lied to you a little bit. I knew about butch and femme before seeing that online board. When I was first trying out my girl stuff, I would get myself dressed to the nines, what anybody in their right mind would call femme, right?
Of course right. Now I want to tell you a story.
In the early days of my transition, I would go out to lesbian bars. It was women only, and I felt more safe there than I’d ever felt anywhere in my life. I was too scared to try to pick anyone up, or to let someone pick me up. But there was this one bar I used to go to and sit and have a drink, watch, study, learn. I couldn’t really relate to all these young bar bunnies, not physically, but the *life* they had! The exuberance! I wanted that. Alas, there I was, this tall gangly, older man/woman. They weren’t very gentle with me. Can’t say I blame them, not in hindsight. I was awfully defensive.
Anyway, I finally got up the courage one night to go upstairs, where the bathroom was. And the bathroom was just off a room filled with all these older women, sitting there in shirtsleeves and ties, some in T-shirts, some in muscle shirts, and always a couple of women in flannel shirts. They were sprawled out in comfy chairs, and, hon, their eyes lit up the minute I walked into the room. I’ll never ever forget that moment. They were all butch, and they were happy to see me.
This one sweet butch said, “Hell-l-l-lo, sugar, come have a seat.” And she stood up for me, so gallant. I sat there, and it was a dream cometrue. They bought me drinks, we danced, I watched them play pool, they showed me how. I choked on one of their cigars, they laughed, but not *at* me.
That was pretty much the moment I first realized I could be happy as girl, with butches. I went back up there as frequently as I could. Then, like most of the girl bars in the city, that one closed down, and there was nowhere else to hang out, not that I knew of, anyway. That’s around the time that Toobe taught me about this online world—where I met my favorite butch of all time.
Scratch:Wow. Good story. Proud of butches for how they were with you.::going back into the laboratory, or is that to the drawing board::
I know that the outside world, and most lesbians nowadays, smirk at the concept of butch/femme. They smirk at us. But they’re not looking closely, because butch/femme is… deep and powerful. Whatever it is. Fuck what people think, if it works. (Although obviously I’m not a classic butch, born too late and never got trained right!)
Winc:You’re surprising me again. You keep doing that, I love that about you. But I’m just going to ask you my questions and see what that leads to. ::deep breath::
Winc:Why do most lesbians have such short hair? ::gently:: Why do *you*?
Scratch:The better question might be to ask a lot of men why they *don’t* have long hair. They’ll probably tell you it’s a pain in the ass to keep up. Most straight men I know love long hair on women, so straight women grow it. Me, I don’t have to.
Winc:Are you *trying* to look mannish? Pass for “man” in the world?
Scratch:Ouch this hurts. What is mannish anyway? I’ve been asking myself this since I was 9 and my mom told me to put on a shirt when I went outside. So much shame followed, that what I wanted to be and act like was reduced to wanting to be “like a man.” And that was bad of course. So it’s taken forever to simply say that I love being a woman. There’s more ways for women to look than what’s offered in “fast-food fashion.” Sometimes I wear eyeliner because it looks cool. When I getdressed in the morning, I’m going for comfort, power, and sometimes armor, but never to hide.
Winc:People stare at you like they stare at me. How do you deal with it?
Scratch:Lately I tell myself they stare because I look so damned good. (Okay, this works about a tenth of the time.) Why would I want to look like everyone else?
Winc:Why do lesbians insist on “women only” spaces? Isn’t it just hiding away?
Scratch:It *is* kinda like hiding away and it feels great. Any guy can tell you how fun it is to sit in a bar with his male buds and watch TV. It’s a breather from dealing with the “opposite” sex. He just doesn’t have to put up a bunch of signs advertising where to do it. My question is, as a former man, can you tell me why do men want to go into women-only spaces, or why are they offended by them? Why do they think it has anything to do with them at all?
Winc:What do you mean by “men”?
Scratch:Right. ::laughing:: Um, like straight frat boys coming into women’s bars.
Winc:You know, I have no idea. I never wanted to do that when I was living as a man. I do know what you mean, that a lot of straight men go into those spaces. ::shrugs::
