The Butch Mystique

I am fascinated and delighted that my description of Mary Carillo as "butch" has sparked such an interesting conversation (see Comments under the post Mary Carillo's Gems from the US Open.) Here I am, living my entire adult life in lesbian culture, thinking I know everything about who we are. And thinking that Mary Carillo is the tall gallant epitome of butch. But a few of my darling readers have said, whoa, no, not the case. They say she's more accurately described as "androgynous" or "just Mary" because she occasionally wears pastels and because we have no way of knowing if she is butch-identified. These are very good points. But I do not concede the argument.

First, I want to talk about this comment: "Butchness requires a degree of self-identification, meaning I don't think that you can assume a woman is butch based on superficial characteristics." This is interesting and, to me, a little troubling. Maybe because I came out during the Reagan administration my views on such things are outdated. (Example: I still say "transgendered person" rather than what I've noticed everyone else says, "transgender." When did the shift occur? Beats me. But keep in mind the speed-of-light changes occuring in this realm: My 1993 copy of Stone Butch Blues (purchased at Shakespeare & Co. in NYC in 1994!) uses the term "transgendered" on the back cover blurb. Judith Butler's seminal work Gender Trouble, published in 1990, includes neither "transgendered" nor "transgender.") In any case, here is what I understand about the term "butch" in lesbian culture:

It's an unfortunate and uninformed mistake to view "butch/femme" as simply limited to bedroom roles and—good grief—the heterosexual construct. If we say you can't assume a woman is butch based on superficial characteristics, we are suggesting that butch is something we can't see. Or that it's strictly a sexual behavior rather than an aesthetic. A noun rather than an adjective. It also seems to belie that reliable old chestnut: "Butch on the streets, femme in the sheets," which suggests butch presentation is often just bravado concealing an emotional trainwreck. (Come on, you know there's some truth in it.)

In contrast, I think butch is something you can express when you want to. For some of us, it's diurnal. For others, it's as infrequent as chopping wood. To me, it simply describes traditionally masculine characteristics — bold, brave, macho, robust, strong, strapping, virile — displayed by a woman. Yes, there are the anachronistic "butch/femme" pairings described in Leslie Feinberg's groundbreaking novel Stone Butch Blues, but Feinberg is describing a pre-Stonewall era. Lillian Faderman documents this bygone period thoroughly in Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers, and she even establishes that butch/femme roles in the 1950s and 1960s were exclusive to working class lesbians who had no other way of identifying their community. Faderman also points out that wealthy and middle class lesbians "generally rejected" the butch/femme roles and dress codes, which they found "aesthetically repulsive."

I have zero interest in igniting class warfare in the lesbian community. It is also my understanding that lesbian culture has evolved since the '50s and '60s. Yes, we still have our special "stone butches," but I don't think anyone would argue that the terms "butch" and "stone butch" are interchangeable. And these days, wouldn't a woman who seeks to pass as a man or who identifies as a man be described as trans rather than butch? Butch in my mind is inherently lesbian; it is implicit that the person is female. Judith Butler herself has spent her career asserting that sexuality is not linked to gender. And I assume that would include sexual roles assigned to the genderqueer, no? Being butch does not come with a required list of sexual behaviors. But it does more often than not seem to have a correlation with a thick neck.

Lesbian predators redux

Lesbians are abuzz about the recent I Kissed a Girl episode of Rizzoli & Isles—which, I concede, was remarkable in just how thoroughly it was steeped in sapphism—HOWEVER, I must offer a word of caution in the celebration. I must turn on the lights at this rowdy house party. (Fair warning to those who have not yet seen the show.)

The plot of the episode relies on the age-old portrayal of lesbians as crazed sexual predators, and it also presents a clear anti-butch theme throughout. Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles are trying to solve the murder of a lesbian, whose sexually assaulted body is discovered in an alley near a dyke bar. In the victim's wedding photo, we see her in a white dress holding hands with her butch spouse in a suit. To catch the killer, Rizzoli is urged by a giddy Isles to go undercover as a lesbian. Isles herself ultimately joins in, posing as a busty waitress at the dyke bar. To attract the killer, Isles posts Rizzoli's profile on a dating website for lesbians. While our two gals spend most of the show acting like adolescents with crushes on each other—this includes discussing what kind of lesbians they would be if they were lesbians, talking side-by-side in bed while fully clothed, trading shoves during yoga class, and reacting excitedly to the slightest hint of emotion or insult from each other. When checking the categories of the online dating form, Isles seems to think she is defending her beloved tomboy friend by insisting that Rizzoli should be classified not as a butch, but, rather, as a "sporty" lesbian. "Butch" clearly indicated a slur. In the end, of course, it turns out the victim was killed by her butch spouse, who was working in cahoots with the butch bartender. As the curtain closes, Rizzoli & Isles celebrate their confirmed heterosexuality. The butches are punished, and the straight girls stride into the future.

All this is not to say that I did not enjoy the show. (Embrace double negatives.) Yes, it was fun to see Rizzoli brush up against Isles's breasts. Yes, it is generally a thrill to watch Angie Harmon swagger around as a rangy tomboy. But the show also confirmed that the ugly stereotype of the mannish lesbian predator is alive and well in popular culture. Are we still celebrating crumbs of visibility?

We've seen all this before. The Celluloid Closet documented it well. For most of the history of film (and television), gays and lesbians have been portrayed as something to laugh at, pity, or fear. Lesbians in particular were often seen as predators. The Rizzoli & Isles episode, with its murderous lesbians, fits this unfortunate model. The lesbians on the show reminded me of the sadistic drunk June Buckridge in The Killing of Sister George, of the doomed Martha Dobie in Lillian Hellman's The Children's Hour, of the chilling Mrs. Danvers in Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca. For the film, Hitchcock modified the masterpiece novel by Daphne du Maurier (herself a secret bisexual, as often was the case with lesbians of her generation), to amplify the creepy lesbian undertones. It's interesting to note that Mrs. Danvers was played by Oscar-nominee Judith Anderson, who also played another hated mannish woman on screen: Memnet in The Ten Commandments. I always kind of liked Memnet, but, naturally, she was thrown off the balcony.
I am reminded of another recent memorable unfeminine villainous lesbian. Regal old Dame Judi Dench pursues scrumptious Cate Blanchett in Notes on a Scandal. Both women behave very badly, but the straight woman behaves criminally. Nevertheless, be confident that the dyke is the villain. Even so, I can't take my eyes off Blanchett's performance as her character—dressed in the most beautiful knitwear—completely loses it. When things go badly, blame the dyke.

No longer hirsute under her suit?

One of my smart and gorgeous readers recently suggested a column idea on the topic of depilation: To shave or not to shave. For some of us, it's not a question. For others, it is. But what's interesting is that being unshaven does not seem to be the lesbo indicator it once was. Doesn't it seem like hairy legs and armpits were once an earthy territory traversed only by lesbians? In Armpit Hair, loud sapphist Alix Olson sings about the double standard of women needing to be hairless while men are accepted as furry (Alix raps: "I don't find that particularly pretty, so get your opinion out of my hairy pitty.") Alix's desire to have hairy pits seems a direct statement against the sexist standard of femininity imposed upon her by the patriarchy. But doesn't that stance almost seem like a throwback? All due respect to Alix Olson and the injustices of the patriarchy, of course. But these days, something else seems to be going on. Straight gals are going hairy, and lesbians are impeccably groomed. I have two pieces of empirical evidence, and by that I mean my anecdotal observations.

1. Young lesbians of today are much, much more groomed than those of a previous generation. Even the butches are plucking their eyebrows. Have you noticed this? It's true. In the last year or so I have made the acquaintance of two otherwise very butch young lesbians who have clearly put a lot of time and care into shaping their eyebrows. They wear a bit of eye makeup, even. Don't get me wrong. They look very nice. They are handsome young butches.
It's just not something you saw among the butches previously. Where did it come from? Is Shane imitating life, or is life imitating Shane? You see it even among our star butches. Rachel Maddow. Julie Goldman. It's clear these butches spend time in the salon. Unheard of a generation ago. Even the beloved Bearded Lady of Provincetown—famously unshaven—apparently is keeping her eyebrows shapely. By the way, I think you look great, Bearded Lady.

2. The second part of my argument is related to an arena I know of only through a lifetime of observation: Straight women. They seem to be going hairy. Tossing aside the customs of Betty Draper, some of them—still a minority—are hairy free spirits. Mo'Nique with her hairy legs at the Golden Globes. Julia Roberts waving a hairy underarm on the red carpet. Amanda Palmer flipping off the world with her pits. But the practice is not embraced by a mainstream that still wants its women hairless. A recent NYT article, Unshaven Women: Free Spirits or Unkempt?, said it was "brazen" to go unshaven in public. The article suggests there is a fear "that no man will want you and your hairy legs." So, despite everything, hairy female bodies are still seen as not heterosexual, and are, therefore, unwanted. Maybe Alix Olson is not such a throwback, after all.

Lesbians Lose Another Butch

Naturally, we are all for transgender rights and the freedom for everyone to express who they truly are. And in keeping with this position, the Sapphist Gazetteer applauds and celebrates Chaz Bono's decision to transition from female to male. A courageous decision which no doubt will help diminish ignorance about trans issues—considering he is inherently likable and is probably the most famous trans person since Renee Richards. But Chaz's transition has also brought to light the sotto voce conversation in the lesbian realm regarding the concern that our best butches are choosing to become male, and, hence, no longer lesbian.

While trans persons are, of course, very much a part of the larger LGBT community, there is some controversy about where female-to-male individuals fit specifically into the lesbian community. Obviously, butch lesbians who become male are no longer lesbians. Yet often their female partners are lesbian. And the community in which they initially express their otherness in gender—or, come out as trans—is almost always the lesbian community. It's a conundrum that was first discussed in the mainstream media in March 2008 in "When Girls Will Be Boys" by Alissa Quart in The New York Times Magazine. This article examined the experience of female-to-male persons—or "transmales"—at women's colleges, and whether they even belong there. The issue was also examined somewhat on the L-Word. Interestingly, the issue primarily discussed on that show was the hostility and discrimination that Max, played by Daniela Sea, faced during transition (especially when he became pregnant.) But the question of Max's membership in the lesbian community was less prominent. Yes, there was the speechifying by Jenny about how, as a lesbian, she didn't want a boyfriend. But Jenny was pretty much universally hated (except by me! How could you not love a character so arch!), and thus this interesting nugget of conversation was dismissed.

Perhaps there is an alternative. In the early 1990s, the Sapphist Gazetteer attended a talk by Leslie Feinberg at the LGBT community center in the West Village in NYC. I recall that Feinberg, author of the seminal trans work, Stone Butch Blues, advocated for a third gender. A third gender, Feinberg argued, would allow individuals who did not identify with either female or male gender roles to express themselves most authentically. It's important to distinguish here that Feinberg (according to my memory) was not asking for a third sex. (Although a third sex arguably already does exist in nature: hermaphrodites.) While I cannot speak for Feinberg today, I do believe the idea of a third gender, the social construct, would allow some among us to avoid the troublesome issue of sex assignment and, therefore, the difficulties presented by anatomy, plastic surgery, and, one could say, self-mutilation.