My feet play a quick game of find and seek for my lost red heels underneath my messy desk. Shoes on feet, I get up from my chair, snatch the black Ann Klein jacket draped over the back, retrieve the red handbag from my desk draw, quickly reapply lipstick and head towards the office door. Once out of the building I thank the goddess I had grabbed my jacket, I immediately put the jacket on, taking the early chill of the fall from me. I clack! Clack! Clack! down the busy sidewalk towards my coffee destination. Chilly though it feels; it is a beautiful fall day the sun bright if a little distant, with the tree leaves showing their first hints of transformation with multitudes of slight changes in colour.

I enter the coffee house only to find myself standing in a long line. “Fuck!” I mutter under my breath. The place is a sardine can of uni students doing homework, a table of elderly men I over hear discussing world politics, a colourful group of teens with multi coloured clothes and hair to match and to my complete surprise a Butch woman scribbling intensely in a notebook pad. I have a bird’s eye view of her from where I’m standing in line; suddenly I am no longer in a hurry. I giggle to myself at the complete turn around I’ve just made. “Calm yourself Lily” I think. “It’s not as though you’ve never seen a Butch before”. Granted it has been a while since I have enjoyed the company of a Butch, but I on occasion have seen them.

As I’m standing in the coffee order line I find myself studying this Butch; her slightly graying temples betraying her age, her lined forehead, a hint of crows feet, her lost in thought brows more weary than heavy, her lips neither thin nor plump pursed as she scribbles intensely. The line moves up a bit and by a pole now obscures the Butch from my Femme gaze. “Darn!” I think. “And I was so enjoying myself”. The line shifts again and it is my turn to order. After I put in my selection and pay, I move like a trained mouse in a maze and wait behind the other lab rats for my drink. “Mmmm” from where I’m standing now, I have a much closer view of Ms Mystery Butch. She appears stocky without seeming fat, and the hint of bicep peeking from her T shirt sleeve, muscular without being blocky, in the proverbial nutshell, a fine specimen of Butch womanhood.
If she, well not her specifically, but Butch women in general weren’t the abomination to all save for us triple A Femmes, us Femmes who appreciate, adore and applaud Butch women, she would be mistakenly be described in male gendered terms as “handsome”. As I pick up my drink, sneak one last look at the mystery Butch and make for the door, I recall a past situation with a new colleague. The Butch I was dating at the time had lovingly made and brought lunch to my work place for me. I introduce her to this new co-worker while she was there. After my Butch left, trying to be friendly and complimentary, this co-worker says to me “she’s quite handsome isn’t she?” To which I angrily point blank asked her “handsome?” “Why not beautiful? She is a woman after all!” Nothing makes my Femme blood boil more than hearing “handsome” applied to a Butch woman. Handsome is like a black mark struck through the female of every Butch, whose ink stain bleeds into and blots out the lesbian in every Femme.

I collect my drink and regretfully leave Ms. Mystery Butch to her scribbling and trotted back to work.
The next week races by with an assortment of work and sleep and the occasional meal in between the two. Saturday approaches and it looks as though again I’m going to have to put in at least a full morning at work. I go into the office early in hopes of leaving around noon. Being the only person in the office today I buckle down working without distraction and finish my tasks before noon. Then instead of leaving for home to the several loads of laundry awaiting me, I fetch the Nella Larson novel I left in my car and make my way to the coffee shop for a mellow cup of tea and a little wind down reading.

The coffee shop is sardine packed; I scout for an available seat while I wait for my drink order. No individual tables to be had, I look around to the large tables and see one with a group of three occupying it with one seat open, then look in the corner where the other large table has residence and to my utter shock and surprise I spy my Ms Mystery Butch from the previous Saturday sitting alone. Determined this time to make her acquaintance and while undoing a few buttons on my blouse for maximum Femme cleavage, I pick up my drink and head over in her direction. She is once again busy writing something or other, I place my book and drink down across from her, she looks up startled. “Mind if I sit here”? I ask. “All the other tables seem to be taken” I go on. “Umm sure” she replies shyly glancing in my general direction.
I hike myself up onto the free stool, extend my hand and introduce myself, “Hi, I’m Lily by the way” I say with a friendly smile. Giving away nothing, Ms Mystery Butch expressionlessly looks up from what she’s doing, slips her calloused hand in mine and says simply “Brittain, nice to meet you”. Intrigued by her name I maintain eye contact and ask “As in the country”? “Umm no, as in Vera Brittain the British feminist” comes her ever more interesting response as she looks back down towards her writings. Still trying to create a spark I say “Her Testament of Youth I read in college”.
She looks back up but before she answers her mobile rings. She answers it motioning to me with her index finger and whispers “one second”. “No hurry” my bright red lips mouth back with an air of flirtation while my finger tips caress the ribbons on my blouse as I draw attention to my exposed cleavage. While waiting for Brittain to finish her call I amusingly muse on the general public Butch perception which automatically cast Butch women in the “male lead” when it comes to romance and relationships. I giggle to myself at the prospect of waiting for a Butch suitor to approach me and how, were that the case, I’d surely be a 35 year old Femme virgin! Femmes are notorious for making the first, second and sometimes third move and Butches are equally notorious for letting us. But it’s a beautiful thing, and I love every minute of it.
I inspect Brittain’s muscular build in glances while waiting for her to return to our conversation. I notice her strong forearms; the kind of forearms that could fuck you for hours and hours. I smile at the prospect. At one end of her forearms I observe a pair of well-worn hands, hands that look like they have been around the block a few times, strong but delicate; a perfect combination. On the other end of her forearms I see her well built biceps half sticking out of her T shirt sleeve, and up from there a pair of quire broad shoulders, solid shoulders made for holding onto while the world disappears in your pussy and shoulders to rest your head upon when the world closes you out.
“Sorry about that” Brittain says jerking me from my private thoughts. “Oh that’s quite alright” I smile. She glances momentarily at my cleavage before catching herself. “So Testament of Youth” she says questioningly. “Yes, required reading she was, for a British feminist course I took in college I explain. We wind up having a most interesting and pleasant conversation about feminism past, present (or lack thereof we both agree) and future for the next few hours. I discover she is a writer, has had multiple short stories published and has excitingly had her first novel accepted for publication. To pay the bills she works as a computer operator for a bank, imaginative and practical. Yum! I end our conversation due to a diner engagement with my baby sister, but get her number before I depart.

I call Brittain a few days later. I wanted to call her the moment I left her at the coffee shop. We chat briefly, then make dinner plans for Friday at my favourite Thai restaurant, turns out Brittain is as crazy for quality Thai food as I am. The next few days I swear I try on every combination of clothes in my wardrobe before finding a perfect dressed-to- kill ensemble armed with cleavage to die for. I arrive home from work Friday by five and spend nearly the next two hours showering, shaving, plucking, applying and dressing. I get to the restaurant nearly 15 minutes late. Brittain is standing outside.

“Sorry I’m late, was needed at work a little longer than I expected” I fib. “Not a problem” she says, then continues “There’s a 20 minute wait anyways, I’ve got us on the wait list”.
Once seated at our table I suddenly feel a rush of quietness which is unusual for me. I can’t tell if it is a result of Brittain’s calming presence corralling the wild horse in me or actual nervousness; also unusual for me. We both make pleasing small talk using dinner to fill in the very few silences. We talk another half hour or so after we’ve finished eating; Brittain asks if she may pay while I leave the tip. We leave the restaurant and Brittain offers to walk me to my car, I accept just to spend a few more minutes with her. I’ve parked several blocks away. I follow her slow pace towards my car. Maybe she doesn’t want our first date to end yet either I think. She tells me the most hilarious story as we walk, which reaffirms what I realized at dinner, that along with smarts and a fab Butch body Brittain is wickedly funny. We get to the street where I’ve parked, I point my car out, we stop in front of it and I can’t stop laughing. We talk a few more minutes; Brittain’s face becomes very serious looking, she steps closer to me while staring into my eyes and asks “Would it be too forward of me to ask for a good evening kiss?”

I’m floored; my heart drops clean into my full belly from the sheer sweet romance of her request. Composing myself I say “Kiss away”. Brittain takes another step while maintaining our connected gaze, takes my hand in one of hers pulling my arm around her back and slides her other hand around me pulling me close enough I can feel her breasts against mine, then cocks her head slightly as she leans in to kiss me. I feel myself go under the waves once our lips meet, this first kiss is so gentle, she lingers her mouth on mine, pulls back a bit then repositions her head and kisses me again and again and again with heated passion. I am no longer just in the water, I find myself fully drowned.

Brittain and I see quite a lot of each other between a combination of coffee dates and dinner dates the next few weeks with each date fanning the flames of my Femme desire. As much as I enjoy a good masturbation session, call me a picky Femme but nothing can replace the taste and touch of Butch pussy on my strong, hot Femme lips and tongue!

I’m making dinner for Brittain tomorrow night, I’m not sure of my plan, but determined horny Femme that I am, I decide then and there to make my move tomorrow. I don’t mind going after what I want, it’s especially rewarding if I attain it. But I’ll admit; it would be nice once in a while to have a Butch make the first move. But considering the Butch climate out there with ever threatening clouds filling our Butch skies, a Butch risking the first move is highly unlikely. Oh the joys of Femme invisibility!
I wake with a knot of nervousness right smack in the middle of my tummy. Finally a Saturday I don’t have to work, but work I must if I want tonight to go off without a hitch. I don’t bother showering, just brush my teeth, toss on a baseball cap along with jeans, a T shirt and my favourite sweater and head out. My first stop is the grocers; I check my bag making sure I have the shopping list I made last night. Tonight’s dinner is a cross between gourmet and practical. Once through with the grocers I dash over to the department store having a big sale. I’m hoping to pick up a new fall dress for this evening. I get the feeling this just might turn out to be one awesome day, between easily finding everything I needed at the grocers, to only having to try on three different dresses before finding ‘the perfect dress.’

Since I have to pick Brittain up because her car is in the shop I slide by the car wash and get the works inside and out. I make it home around lunch time, fix myself a little something to eat while mentally planning dinner, getting ready, collecting Brittain and making my Femme move. By the time I need to pick Brittain up everything seems to be going according to plan; salad is chilling in the fridge, dinner is cooling on the stove top and if I do say so myself I am a vision of Femme loveliness “or a close as I’m going to get” I laugh. I slip on my new leopard print heels then make the 15 minute drive to Brittain’s. She’s waiting for me when I arrive. She hops in and gives me the shy kiss she’s becoming famous for.

We make some small talk on the way back to my house, pull into the attached garage, closing the garage door behind us. Brittain gets out and comes around to my side of the car. I fumble trying to retrieve my purse from the back seat. Purse in hand I get out and close the car door. I don’t know exactly what was, perhaps Brittain standing in front of me looking so beautifully Butch but I can’t keep my hands to myself a moment longer. I drop my purse and reach out to Brittain, pull her close, we kiss a kiss for all time. Brittain moves both her hands down clutching my ass in each of them, then pulls my body closer into her grinding her pelvis into mine. I want her right here; right now, my Femme heat and desires will wait no longer. I maneuver her so that she has her back against my shiny black car. We continue kissing. I break our kiss so I can kiss a trail of light kisses from her lips to her cheeks, down her neck to her collarbone hiding beneath her white T shirt and shirt collar.
I go back up to her soft full Butch lips, kissing, kissing, and kissing as I undo each button of her olive green dress shirt. I pull the ends of her shirt from their tucked position in her jeans, once unbuttoned take her dress shirt off and lay it onto the floor in front of us. I kneel down locking Brittain’s eyes with mine, I undo her black belt, unzip her pants and we both let them drop to her ankles. Still holding her gaze I kiss the waistband of her boxers. Brittain runs her strong fingers through my thick hair as I move down kissing directly over her pussy ushering a small moan from her mouth. I break our gaze as I pull the middle of her boxers down far enough to reveal her Butch pussy. Her smell is divine its precious aroma captivating me for a moment till I can no longer wait to taste her. I slip my tongue into and around her already aroused clitoris. An “oh god!” escapes her.

I alternate my tongue between light and hard strokes around her clit; with each hard stroke she pushes my head into her while thrusting her hips forward. I don’t want her to come too soon, so I slow things down by sliding my tongue the length of her slit, licking and lapping up her saltiness as I go while I give her clitoris a little breathing room. I can tell by the motion of her hips she wants to come. I move back up to her clit pulsating it with more pressure. I can hear her moans catching in her throat. I glance up to see her eyes looking towards the ceiling lost in the deepest pleasure. A few more quick thrust of my tongue sends her somewhere beyond reach as she lets go of a low, loud moan while she comes. My tongue still on her I can feel the muscles from within her contracting right up through her clitoris. When the contractions stop I pull her boxers back up, then her pants. I pull her pants around her T shirt tucking it back in as I fasten her pants and belt.
I get to my feet, pick her shirt up from the garage floor and say

“Sorry about the shirt”

She kisses me grinning and says

“I’m not”.

dirt

Thousands of years of male and female roles reinforcing each other with each and every new generation (which may have began innocently enough due to different (different-not better) abilities of the majority for survival) are now believed by most to equal “natural”. As in it is natural for women to want to dress in high heels and skirts, it is natural for men to have short hair and always wear pants, it is natural for girls to play with dolls, it is natural for boys to play with toy trucks or guns, natural so much so that whenever one deviates from what is “natural” there MUST be something wrong with THEM and they MUST be FIXED!

And the fact that there is this GID (created by a man who advocated consensual pedophilia no less) illustrates the systematic pathological need of society to utilize its hetero-patriarchal medical machine to “cure” the deviates who deviate under the ruse of “curing” rather than the truth of “normalizing”. And the sad part is there are plenty of people who have let themselves be brainwashed into believing there is something wrong with them because they are not “natural” because they deviate and are all too ready willing and able to prove hetero-patriarchal society right by foaming at the fucking mouth on their fucking knees begging and pleading for the hetero-pat-medical machine to stamp and ap/prove them “normal”!

How can we argue that there is nothing wrong with male and female but the cage(roles) that tightly wraps ’round male and female like some gordian knot when there are plenty of people all too willing to prove society correct by adhering to society’s male/female prescribed ideas by means of carving themselves up through drugs and body mutilation??

It is time those who naturally deviate or those who are tired of playing at “male and female” collude our efforts to dismantle society’s snug cage before we’re all of us, are pared into the mold.

dirt

DMS5-GID Here is the link (thanks to whoever sent me it) to the current draft for the next version of the  DSM due out spring 2013. I MUST say a few words about what this current draft has listed as the criteria for diagnosing GID in young girls in 8 simple questions for parents!

My plain look didnt stop the men with leering gazes from asking me what book I was reading or how I’m liking the change in weather, all in some vain hope that the book or warm sun was going to be their vile accomplice in getting me into bed. My plain look didnt add any numbers to my weekly paycheck. My plain look didnt get the federal government to pass an equal right amendment. My plain look didnt stop men from abusing and raping women and children. My plain look didnt change me from being a woman therefore “not management” material. My plain look didnt even grant me the lesbian visibility it promised. What my plain look did do is alienate me from me and me from the Butch women I desired with my whole being. For a while at least, but just for a while.

Today as I kiss my Butch and leave the house I leave behind as I take her with me the Femme I swore long ago I would NEVER again remove. But while I do not take her off, neither is she recognized, anywhere I go. Even when I out myself to people;  “oh are you married”? ” no I’m a lesbian”, she remains unseen. Unseen because the totality of Femme is invisible even in the flesh. Example: I go to a function through work where I meet people that I do not work with. I mix, I mingle where upon at some point in the evening a man ask me “what does your husband do”? I politely reply “My girlfriend works in so and so. I’m a Femme lesbian” The man seems slightly taken aback and more than slightly interested. Before I can say another word a female co-worker of mine comes up and the man quickly says “oh is this your girlfriend”? Then I do what I always do, I open my purse, pull out my pocket book to the picture I have of my Butch and I and say “no this is my girlfriend”! The man says nothing more and walks away seemingly in confusion and disgust.

Even when declaring Femme lesbian I remain invisible, all that is visible is “lesbian”. If I strictly say “Femme”, people go blank, when I add lesbian they immediately go to girl on girl porn. This is what I mean about the totality of Femme. Younger Femmes, self hating Femmes are so quick these days to separate themselves from Butches. But Butch is a major component in MY totality of Femme. Because if she doesnt come into view then I remain invisible, the lesbian I am remains invisible. I’m not interested in being the star in the fantasies of straight men! That little “lesbian” bubble they all carry around in their brains to please their pricks quickly goes POP when they see my Butch. The “lesbian” thrill loses its appeal, then the lesbian we both are becomes invisible.

This is a typical day for me as a Femme, explaining, ignoring, half explaining, half ignoring all to no avail, all to remain unseen in my entirety. Most days I do not think about it, some days I think too much about it and other days I feel a weariness. I feel a burden and the weight of that burden which seems to bury me with yet another layer of invisibility, another layer my painted nails have to struggle to claw through. But when I put my key into the lock of our house, when I walk through that door and my Butch greets me with a hug and kiss I become whole once again. I’m seen. I exist. I’m loved.

dirt

Let me begin by defining Femme Invisibility as I a Butch woman understand it to be. Femme Invisibility is invisibility tripled. Femme’s experience invisibility first through the assumptions from the hetero world that because their visual brand of femininity (Femme Femininity) falls within the range of general hetero-femininity they must also be hetero, second because Femme Femininity falls within the range of the lipstick lesbian, Femme’s are assumed by lipstick lesbians to be lipstick lezbo dating material, and last because Femme Femininity falls within the range of both hetero femininity and lipstick lezbo femininity they are often invisible to the Butches they so desire.

“Passing” is one of the biggest complaints/problems Femme’s have with Femme Invisibility. Because when Femmes pass as straight woman, their lesbianism is invisible which leaves them open for male attentions they do not desire. Couple this with Butch invisibility then even when Femme’s out themselves as lesbians because hetero female on hetero female is the mainstay of hetero male porn, men’s first sick thoughts when a Femme declares she is a lesbian, is envisioning her with another Femme or lipstick lesbian and them watching. And because hetero female on hetero female is a male porn mainstay with females performing sex for men whether or not the man joins the women (and he usually does) there is an assumption that Femme lesbians are not legitimately lesbian because all the “lesbians” in male porn/fantasy are really looking for some man dick. This is why often the lesbianism within Femme/Butch couplings is suspect by heteros. It is often believed the Femme in the relationship is really straight and really wants to be with a guy because all “lesbians” in porn want/fuck men, which many hetero take as proof of the illegitimacy of Femme lesbianism because why would a Femme lesbian after all date someone who “looks like a guy” if she didnt really want to be with a guy? This barely touches upon the mind/efield Femme Invisibility endangers Femme’s to, but I think it gives one a minor idea of the kinds bullshit Femme’s deal with daily.

The Femme Invisibility Femmes face within the larger lesbian community present its own set of problems. The larger lesbian community makes plenty of their own assumptions about Femmes, like say if at a lesbian bar many lesbians assume Femmes to be interested in other Femme/inine lesbians. Often when non Femme lesbians find out Femmes are interested in Butch partners, non Femme lesbians may and do turn on Femme lesbians, viewing them as traitors of sorts, similar to how most lesbians view/treat “bisexual” women(and rightly so in those cases). I remember an ex telling me upon her moving to a new town, she began going to the local lesbian bar and was soon befriended by a lipstick lesbian type. My ex started hanging around with this lesbian knowing she said, straight off this woman was attracted to other lipstick lesbians. She enjoyed this woman’s company and they had a few things in common so who thisr friend was attracted to had nothing to do with their friendship. Some weeks into their friendship they both hit the local lezzie bar. After an hour or so there was a Butch who came in that my ex found attractive (she dated only very butch Butches). My ex said something to her friend about how hot she thought this Butch was, where upon my ex’s friend showed immediate disgust and said “thats what you’re into”? Needless to say this woman never contacted my ex again. I have heard over the years plenty of similar stories by Femme friends. Because of the type of woman (Butch) a Femme dates, her lesbianism is automatically suspect. This is why Femme Visibility and Butch Visibility are so dependent upon one another. Were Butches actually viewed and understood by the larger lesbian community as the women we are, Femme’s would be understood as the lesbians they are.

Invisible to the general public, invisible, distrusted and disdained for who they love by lesbians, then to top it all off invisible quite often to the Butches they wish to attract, isnt Femme Invisibility grand! I have often laughed with Femme partners and Femme friends at the interesting twist dating usually takes with Femmes and Butches. Funny because there has and remains the ignorant notions that Femme/Butch is nothing more than male/female mimicry and Femme/Butch dating techniques are yet another thing that illustrates how nonsensical those notions are. Partly because most Butch women never get the chance to develop asking a girl out in school and partly because if we see a woman we find we might like we dont dare say anything to her because we’re usually not sure she’s Femme. This includes even in lesbian spaces, because she could just as easily be another lipstick dyke rather than a Femme. So what usually happens is in many instances if we were to compare Femme/Butch to male/female it is the Butches taking on the straight girl role, not the Femme like most might think. Butches are notorious for letting Femmes make the first move. What happens when we see a woman we like, do we go up and talk to her? No. We snag glance, we make ourselves available even if with a Femme friend by not doing anything that might make us look like we’re a couple, we laugh at everything as cool as we can, if at a bar setting we might find a reason to walk past her as cool and as butch as we possibly can, then like so many straight women before us, we sit back and wait and hope this Femme makes a moves. I dont believe I’m exaggerating when I say I bet 9 out of 10 Femme/Butch relationships began with the Femme making first contact with the Butch!

So growing up a feminine female, Femmes like all women grew up being conditioned to think when it came time for them to date all they would have to do is say yes or no. But because of Femme Invisibility and Butch fears, Femmes have had to completely rewrite for themselves a different dating manual, no easy feat I would wager! Just as there are things only a Femme knows about a Butch, this is something only Butches really see, get and appreciate about Femmes. This strength that creates a uniqueness in Femmes that most women do not posses, and which is hidden/unknown to all except us Butches. And make no bones about it, it is a strength, a strength of femmeness we Butches do not posses, that allows a Femme to dare against all she was raised and conditioned with to ask another woman, a Butch woman, out. Without that unique Femme strength we Butches would be some very lonely souls.

While that covers the three prime factors I brought up regarding the whys of Femme Invisibility I want to talk a bit about my experiences and observations about visibilizing Femmes. Post modernism’s bastard child “queer theory” has not simply harmed Butch women, it has also created further troubles for Femmes. Queer Theory’s you are whatever you say you are mantra has created a open field where if a straight male shoots up some dope and has enough money to cosmetically pretzelfy his cock/nutsack into a monstrosity, pays a price to the the state to legally change his M to an F on his ID he can then (he’s been lead to believe) rightfully call HIMself a “femme”! Now in and of itself, we might say “so what”, the bum on the corner of 5th and main calls himself  “jesus”, should the Christians be worried? Probably not. But because of the patriarchal systems we all unavoidably dwell, these Mtf men have entered lesbians spaces and because women through those patriarchal systems have had drummed into their/our heads since we left the safety of our mother’s womb men are the authorities of everything. So what has happened is lesbians began and continue deferring to Mtf men in their midst’s. (on a side note I find this interesting because despite how intelligent some of these Mtf men are they cannot see past their disorder to see that when lesbians do this, lesbians are not embracing them as “women/lesbians” but reinforcing that they are in fact MEN)

How does any of this hurt Femme lesbians dealing with invisibility issues? If you have ever met any man, the first most noticeable thing about him is EVERYTHING is about HIM. He may be the nicest guy in the world, but his male privilege insures that everything is about him, if not, anger/tantrum no matter the age. This is the background and nature Mtf men bring to the lesbian community. So that when they say “I have a problem with this”, actual lesbians issues become secondary or non existent. While I do not believe this is a HUGE issue to Femme Visibility yet, I do bring it up because if you are a regular reader you know just last week I was banned from a Femme Invisibility group for trying to keep the topic about Femmes, rather than the issues of the Mtf men in the group. And it was “femmes” who banned me, not the men btw. If Femmes are not the forefront of Femme Invisibility, there will NEVER be a chance for Femme Visibility.

I have been over the years attacked by so called “femmes” for even trying to discuss Femme Invisibility because I’m a Butch. I have tried time and again to bring about discussions/think tanks on what Femmes can do to visibilize themselves and each and every time attacked/banned, by so called “femmes”. In Femme/Butch spaces everywhere there seems to be this fear of REALLY talking about Femme Invisibility. Why? In these same spaces “femmes” talk regularly about how difficult invisibility is, yet try talking about it or discuss ways to potentially change it and you’ll get your head bitten off. I find these women to be pickled in queer theory nonsense, who will do anything in their power to keep their world flat, even if that flatness is killing them and other Femmes. Its sad and sickening to me. It reminds me of women 60 years ago who refused to fight for feminism because while they would like to get a job and have equal rights, their b/fs might stop opening their doors or buying them candy and flowers on Saturday nights!

Personally I am as interested and as invested in Femme Visibility as I am Butch Visibility, as I said earlier they’re both dependent upon one another. I am also interested and invested because I care about Femmes and their deserved happiness’s and life simplicities. One shouldnt have to struggle so hard for something as simple as being seen. I fully understand what needs to take place for Butch Visibility, though that is no small task it is at least definable. The answers for Femme Visibility are more difficult to nail down, made worse as I said before because so often one gets cut off at the knees for trying. Obviously regularly coming out (in safe places) is a given. I have been fortunate in that past Femme partners ALWAYS proudly outed themselves whenever and where ever they could.

I think for both the good of both Femmes and Butch women within lesbian spaces Femmes need to be more vocal about their lesbian desires. I think this would help non Femme/Butch lesbians to see Femme lesbians are just as lesbian because they too want a woman’s body sexually-only difference being that woman’s body is in a Butch package with Butch energy behind it. I think Femme sexuality has taken a back seat in a similar way straight women’s sexuality gets diminished because its all about the “menz” and “the cock”. Check out any B-F forum and under sexuality most of it reads pretty hetero based/Butch based. There is a great shame in Butch sexuality and Femme’s will mask their own desires publicly by downplaying or not mentioning that their desire goes past being fucked by a Butch or giving Butch “blow jobs”. And thats not to take away any pleasure both Femmes and Butches gain from those experiences, but we all know behind close doors there’s a little more to Femme sexuality than that. Besides Femme Femininity it is lesbianism that is the prime factor in Femme. This is something that Femmes need to reclaim and reassert if they are ever to be truly visible, and we Butches need let them as well as encourage them, for them, but for us also. To take away the shame once and for all rather than letting our Femmes mask it for us, which in the end only hurts us both. In soooo many Femme/Butch spaces both RT and online it has almost become shameful for a Femme to admit she enjoys a Butch’s breast/pussy. And if she does admit it all too often she must slip into some insane orwellian doublespeak of “chest” for breast and “cock” for clit. I say shame on any Butch who has EVER put her Femme in that position out of their own shame and sexual insecurities. (sidenote-I’m not talking about playing around in bed-I’m talking legitimate sexual discussions)

I realize I have given only a few examples in the way in which we can begin fighting Femme Invisibility, but I want any Femme (or Butch for that matter) to know if you would like to seriously start brainstorming on this issue, this blog is a safe space and you can if afraid comment anonymously. Also my email is always open.

That being said, clearly there is a multitude of Femme Invisibility factors Femmes face every day, each an arrow cutting through the heart of every Femme. If there is a Butch woman reading this and your Femme is anywhere near you, pull your Femme to you and hug her with the biggest sweetest kindest hug you could ever muster. She deserves.

dirt

One of two emails I recently received. I’ll deal with this one first.

A beautiful comment made to an older post of mine from a Femme last night. I often write of the value of Femmes, my value of Femmes but I sometimes forget their need to be validated, validated as subject instead of hetero object, their need to be validated as legitimate lesbians, their need for lesbian visibility, their need to have the fucking shame wiped from their bodies and minds, their need for Butch kindness and Butch love.

I will make more of an effort to write about Femme issues, because as a Butch we are in this together,  because without each other, neither of us really exist. Your eye, my eye equals us.

dirt

A picture perfect example of your run of the mill Mtf. Straight, white, married, middle aged and completely ignorant regarding women and lesbians. What ignorant assumptions!

These Mtf’s make up the majority of men who seek trannification. While it is impossible due to the pathological lying of all “trans” people, based on many many years of occupying “trans” spaces of all kinds I wager they number somewhere in the high 90 percentile with gay men comprising the other few percent.

These are the men who think because they rub their cocks while wearing clothes patriarchy deems female, they can simply default to a “lesbian” status after they have taken their fetish as far as they can through trannification. These are also the men who are legally fighting to have the legal right (regardless of what stage of trannification-not that it matters really) to enter freely into womens bathrooms, womens locker rooms, showers, dressing areas etc.

These are not the tiny percent of queenish gay men who through pathological homophobia convinced themselves they are “women trapped in mens bodies” in order to escape their internalized homophobia. These men never felt and never feel “trapped in the wrong body”. These men (men btw running the “trans machine”) developed a fetish through the familial while pre-teen usually, then combined with misogyny/male privilege later convince themselves they are “true transsexuals”(as if there were such a thing). The pathology behind these men is not in BEING women, but in OWNING women. They seek through self creation to create a “female” image they can control and sexually ab/use whenever they feel the need. And as in the example here, note the “female” image is the image patriarchy deems “female/feminine”. An image for the male gaze strictly for masturbatory purposes, these men are both at once gazed and gazer.

Interestingly between having their cocks mutilated into a monstrosity that no/longer properly functions and years of being on faux cancer causing female hormones, many will begin taking synthetic male hormones because they cannot get aroused in order to enjoy the rape fantasies of the “female” self they went all out to create! But even that in no way measures up to the fantasy, because of the extreme pain involved in penetrating the body cavity their testes descended from. This penetration is on going, like the faux cancer causing female hormones for the rest of their lives or else their cavity will close up like the wound their male body understands it to be, this is call “dilation“. (a graphic pic of a mutilated penis/scrotum that doesnt even resemble an actually pussy-dont get me started on the weird/scary pubes in that pic or the hole being in the wrong spot!)

The short of it, (pun intended) is straight white middle/upper middle class married men are the majority of (trans)men seeking legal recourse (right now) to get into women’s (girls) most intimate private places by defaulting to a “female” status. An illegitimate status PAID for with MONEY, NOT in actually BEING women. In typical male fashion these men believe “woman” is something for sale, something a man can purchase, something a man can own, in effect a “whore”. These men believe there is nothing more to “woman” than a cosmetic hole and a good pair of heelz.

Janet Frame ends her short story Snowman Snowman with these observations made by the snowman about man based on himself: “man is indeed simplicity, coal, brass, cloth, wood-I never dreamed”…

dirt

Someone sent this little ditty to me this morning. If you recall earlier in the week I reported that butchfemmedance.com being sold due to the continued falling number of members there(they didnt have much to begin with).

I dont know who brought this up there (BFD), but obviously I wasnt the only one who saw the site was being sold. Looks like someone questioned the siteowner and she’s (BIG SHOCKER) denying it…lol

dirt

See heres the thing with the TG disorder, in much the same as other disorders its sufferers replace their ID with the disorder. So then when something threatens that disorder (even in the form of help) it is viewed by the sufferer as a colossal attack on their identity(rather than the disorder).

A diseased ego still has the capacity for self preservation. No disorder=no self=no life=death.

Which is why once a TG/GID  ”diagnosis” is a attached the sufferer feels relief and for a shortperiod of time and an artificial sense happiness. This occurs when the replacing of the self with disorder takes place. This artificial happiness and moments of high is why therapists are deceived into believing the current “treatment” for the TG disorder is “helping”, because they (the therapists) witness an “improved” state of being in the sufferer.

What they (the therapists) dont see is what takes place when the TG sufferer leaves the office. Between every juncture of change the TG sufferer spirals downward into depression and feelings of suicide. 

Our personality may be forged at a few years of age but our ego, our consciousness is a growing mechanism whose pleasures and potential for pleasures is based on new experiences. When that ego/consciousness is replaced with the TG disorder instead of a growing/evolving consciousness, the TG disorder mimics its host (the ego) so in order to experience pleasure/future pleasures the disorder grows and along with that internal growth a pathological desire for an external seeable growth emerges. In the TG case that seeable growth consists of cosmetic mutilation in the form of drugs and “surgery”.

But what happens when the disorder/ego can no longer grow? When drugs have reached their farthest seeable conclusion? When cosmetic mutilation is stretched to its utmost feasibility? Death of the ego is a death of the self, what then is the death of that which has replaced the ego?

dirt
NRLFF