Alison Tyler's delicious little “Flash Fuck Me” contestlings are a good example of inspiration that I use regularly. Today, I'm looking somewhere a bit different.
If you haven't heard of the amazing Sinclair Sexsmith of the Sugarbush Chronicles fame, then I suggest you remedy that situation. She is an amazing writer, educator, activist, and editor and she's got a new project. It's unnamed so far and the title is a secret, but what's not a secret is her first call in the project: Symposium #1 ~ What is butch? How do you define butch? What do you love about it? What does it mean to you?
I am not stereotypically butch. I am, even while quite overweight, shaped like a friggin' hourglass with extra curves to spare. I'm easily identifiable as female, even when I'm wearing a suit and my hair is 1” long. I have a lot of butch tendencies, though. My partner has been known to say on several occasions, in response to people who can't figure me out that “you just have to understand that she thinks like a man.” Despite my lack of outward masculinity, I have a love affair with the term butch. I think that every person alive has a masculine and a feminine side, and I'm incredibly turned on by people who ride that line between either extreme, be they femme men, butch women, genderqueers, androgynes, or anything else in that lovely big wide stripe of rainbow colour in the middle of the gender spectrum. Butches, though, are the ones most guaranteed to make me melt with their deliciousness.
I especially love it when butch is an expression of sexual abandon. Let's face it, there are a lot of genetically female people out there who don't fit the only two common labels for sexually free women: slut or whore. But damn are they ever cads, Romeos, Dun Juans, lotharios, Casanovas, or philanderers. Of course, butches are often charming, courteous gentlemen, it's just that I'm magnetically attracted to the rogues.
To me, a butch is anyone who lets the masculine side of their personality out to play, and I hope that some of them come out to play with me. And thank the gods for the butches who make me smile every time I see them walk down the street, reminding us all that gender isn't dichotomous, and it sure as hell isn't defined by the random luck of the draw that configured our chromosomes to be shaped a certain way.
In celebration of butches, and of the eloquent Mr Sexsmith's new project, this week's Microfiction's objet d'amour is deliciously butch. I hope you enjoy it!