Stone Butch Blues

Strong to my enemies, tender to those I loved and respected. That’s what I wanted to be. Soon I would have to put these qualities to the test. But for the moment, I was happy.

Her face softened. “That’s kinda hard to explain. I guess being a good lover means respecting a femme. It means listening to her body. And even if the sex gets a little rough, or whatever, that it’s what she wants too, and inside you’re still coming from a gentle place. Does that make sense?”

After the bar closed we’d walk down the street, pretty tipsy, one of us on each of Jacqueline’s arms. She’d throw her head up to the heavens and say, “Thank you, God, for these two good-looking butches.” Al and I would lean forward and wink at each other and we’d all laugh for the sheer joy of being who we were, and being it together.

What I saw there released tears I’d held back for years: strong, burly women, wearing ties and suit coats. Their hair was slicked back in perfect DAs. They were the handsomest women I’d ever seen. Some of them were wrapped in slow motion dances with women in tight dresses and high heels who touched them tenderly. Just watching made me ache with need.

This was everything I could have hoped for in life.

I wondered why she was telling me this. “What place was that?” I asked her.

“What?” She looked sorry she had opened up the subject.

“Where’s the place where those people are?”

Gloria sighed.

“Please,” I asked her. My voice was trembling.

She looked around before she spoke. “It’s in Niagara Falls,” she dropped her voice. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “What’s the name of it?” I tried to sound real casual.

Gloria sighed deeply. “Tifka’s.” That’s all she said.

For a moment in that mirror I saw the woman I was growing up to be staring back at me. She looked scared and sad. I wondered if I was brave enough to grow up and be her.

I didn’t look like any of the girls or women I’d seen in the Sears catalog. The catalog arrived as the seasons changed. I’d be the first in the house to go through it, page by page. All the girls and women looked pretty much the same, so did all the boys and men. I couldn’t find myself among the girls. I had never seen any adult woman who looked like I thought I would when I grew up. There were no women on television like the small woman reflected in this mirror, none on the streets. I knew. I was always searching.

My father pulled our car to a stop in front of our house. “You go straight to your room, young lady. And stay there.” I was bad. I was going to be punished. My head ached with fear. I wished I could find a way to be good. Shame suffocated me.

I laughed and rolled over on my back. The sky was crayon blue. I pretended I was lying on the white cotton clouds. The earth was damp against my back. The sun was hot, the breeze was cool. I felt happy. Nature held me close and seemed to find no fault with me

The world judged me harshly and so I moved, or was pushed, toward solitude.