Butch boundaries

After being heckled by a 14 year old ("It's a hermaphrodite", which I surprisingly have not heard before), I thought I'd just feel lonesome and a bit disempowered.  But there has been a surge of 'butch' media in lesbian cyber space, and the feeling was a little different.  In the past week, Autostraddle ran this:

http://www.autostraddle.com/butch-please-butch-buys-a-drink-149798/

Which I quite empathised with, and then there was this too:

http://www.afterellen.com/content/2012/11/casey-legler-our-new-favorite-woman-working-male-model

As well as another one about African American butches in another online publications (ok, I lost that link).

And I know like it's not just me out there fucking with gender, so I didn't feel lonely like I usually do.  But that's a double edged sword too, because in this regional high school four hours from my cosmopolitan lifestyle, my edgy butches comrades seemed as far away from me as .  But I still had the knowledge that they might feel the things I do and, perhaps, they elicit the same reactions from people that I have.  Sure, they do it elsewhere (on another continent, actually).  But just like I was alone in the school that day, there is a butch somewhere bracing herself to go to a public bathroom.  Or considering her clothing choice for that day and what that will mean for how her friends/strangers/colleagues will read her. Or some baby butch buying clothes from the menswear section for the first time.

So as I moved past lonesomeness I found a surprising roaring fire of rage. I was really pissed at this kid (and the one day before, and the one on the weekend), and pissed for other women in my shoes.  The OUTRAGE was kind of liberating.  And even if we're separated by distance and politeness (I wasn't going to start chatting to the cop in the street), we have a common bond.  And just knowing that, not even acting on it, well, that's pretty powerful.

Hair cut

I keep my hair short, and always have.  But I just got it cut shorter still. Parts of it are clippered and it looks awesome and feels amazing.  I can't work out what it is about a fresh, sharp haircut that makes me feel like million bucks, but it does.

It's term break here, so I won't be back in school for another two weeks, but I'll still be looking sharp.  To me.  Perhaps not to others. It's weird that (apart from seeing the odd dyke in the street) I'm the only one who loves this look.  And even though my family might not love it and kids will be weird, there is something so affirming about the clean lines on my head.

No To Homophobia

I'm pretty impressed with my home town, today.  Some pretty solid community groups, with government support, launched a national TV campaign against homophobia yesterday. I really like the ads - they are ultimately targeted at non queer folk and their complicity in homophobia, which is a necessary shift, I think.  There is an argument that these ads promote the GLBT community as 'victims', but homophobia is not a victimless crime.  

I also like that it's not trying to say lesbians and gay men blend in and you might not know someone is gay.  The dykes in the ad look like dykes and they're treated badly because of it.  I, of course, love that they have a woman being singled out for bring butch.  It's actually validating to see it on TV, even though it's a 'negative' ad.

I have no doubt it will polarise some, but you can make up your own mind:

Hiatus

Work.  I have limited excuses beyond working as to my silence.

And in that work, I again find myself confusing teenagers and now even my boss.  Well, he knows I'm female (and a dyke), but I ended up in a class with him where kids were asking if I was a boy or a girl.  I handled it with my usual smooth skills (hold your breath for that post) but it was interesting thinking about it later.  My boss is a nice guy, no dramas there.  But normally, if a conflict like that arose about anything else, he'd want to talk about it.

Not this.  How would he raise it?

'Do you know the students thought you were a man?' or perhaps

'How do you think your haircut affects your work?'  (not a good idea, HR doesn't like that kinda talk)

'How do you feel about your gender presentation at work?'.  Nope.

Even the most politically correct boss isn't going to find a good way to mention gender presentation with 'clients', even if it's just to see how you feel about it.  Of course, I could have raised it, but I have no clear answers to give and he's not going to someone who will have them.  So it would have been me exposing my lack of clarity and him feeling like he should help but being a bit out of his depth.

We've never spoken of it.  And of all the dilemmas for a butch looking dyke in education, this is a pretty mild problem.  Just not one with an answer.

Winter

I know, everyone in the northern hemisphere is all sweating and summery.  Well, except for the British, but I don't think they have summer.

But here, it's cold.  Icy in the morning, grey during the day, miserable at night kind of cold.  There are some perks though.  The fashion, for one.  What's not to love about a good coat?  Or a cosy jumper (sweater for the Americans). Wandering the streets it's all black and slate grey with the occasional dapper looking scarf.  I can't help but feel people look classier in winter.  Maybe I feel too much flesh looks trashy, but sometimes it does.  Not such worry in winter -all those layers and even skinny jeans get covered in a coat and a good pair of boots.

And while these wonderful bundles of fabric keep me warm, there is an unintended side affect.  I inadvertently pass a lot more in winter.  No tell tale curves, lots of dark colours, limited gender cues and I think I just speak less in the cold.   And in the back of a classroom, when I'm all rugged up and trying to stealthily observe someone else teach, all the kids can see is a big coat and short hair and they wonder who that guy is in the back row.  Public toilets become more of a battleground and I find myself paying in cash, to avoid pulling out a credit card and having to manage the confusion of having SUCH A GIRLY NAME (thanks mum).

Welcome to winter.

Compliments in the strangest places

Working with someone new, who seems like a nice enough guy.  On the way to lunch, out of nowhere, the following occurs:

Colleague: Have you read any of Alison Bechdel's work?

Me: (stunned) Um, yeah..?

C: You look like her.

M: Really? (I can't refuse a well placed compliment, even though being a lean short haired dyke with glasses doesn't make me as good looking as she is).  

C: Yes.  Have you read her work?

M: Um, yeah.  I liked her last graphic novel...  Have you read her stuff?

C: Oh yes! I loved 'Fun Home'.  It was...

He proceeded to wax lyrical about 'Fun Home' and we spend the rest of the day talking about it and other books. A couple of days later we ended up at a comic book store where I bought (political) graphic novels under his guidance.  Turns out he loves the genre (I have really only read Bechdel's work and some of the Maus series) - and his enthusiasm was contagious.  

What I loved was that he compared me to a intelligent (butch?) dyke who he knew and respected.  It wasn't one of those weird "I like The Ellen Show so I am ok with lesbians" conversations. It was about common ground and it wasn't straight common ground.  It was dyke territory.  And I'm so nice when people are on my turf.

Ok, so I admit it.  I am totally susceptible to flattery.  So sue me.

Travel

There has been a break in blogging due to travel.  Admittedly, I went to the USA where they have the internet, but I was also working so didn't get a chance to come back to this corner of the web.

I was a little tentative about my journey, mainly due to both US and Australian security who generally make getting onto a plane more stressful that it already is (21 hours in transit is no picnic).  However, I got off lightly.  Only once was I frisked and even though a few people got pronouns confused, it didn't cause me to be scrutinised and analysed and generally held up.  Even those creepy scanners were fine, as was the retina and fingerprinting at US customs (really, you need all that?).

Suffice to say I arrived in all destinations safe and sound and even in travelling round, gender was not a big deal. Sure, I was in a major US city, but I still thought there might be tangles.  However, the less I freaked out, the less others did.   But when I was called sir I went with it, and if/when they corrected themselves I brushed it off.  It's easier to be self contained away from home, and much easier to be carefree with others perceptions of you. Here I am with friends/colleagues/etc when gender confusion strikes, so I need to take other people into account, and what they think and feel.  Maybe I'm saying travel can allow you to be selfish?  Or maybe it's just about the ability to reinvent yourself.

Day to day

I wonder if I didn’t take into account how I looked at all, how the world would be towards me. If I wasn’t worried about having to fend off other people’s gender confusion, would that make things easier or harder?  I wonder if it’s on me, that I worry and bring that with me?

Meanwhile the kids are still as perplexed and perplexing as ever.  “Isn’t it a dude” was a titbit last week, as well as kids genuinely asking for help calling me ‘sir’.

I have this one school and class that I go to every couple of weeks. There is this girl, she’s 13 or 14 and gets in my face every time and I really have no idea why.  She comes up to me, quite aggressively really and says “Hi Miss!’ several times. She’ll stare at me during class and sometimes point and whisper. She tracks me wherever I go and when I look up, she’s glaring at me. 

But she’s 13 or 14 and I struggle to find it threatening, even though I think that’s what she’s going for.  I am reminded how glad I am, for all the difficulty one faces, that I can move through the world this way.  That I am an adult and the challenges of being a teenager are behind me.  And when I think about it like that, things aren’t so bad.

Youth of today

Today I was up the back of a year 9 class in a school I’m not too familiar with.  About five minutes in, the kids started asked questions of their teacher:

“Miss, who’s that?”

“What’s that?”

“Miss, there’s someone at the back of the class” (today’s youth.  So observant)

And there were a few others I didn’t hear.  Their tone was not polite.  The teacher quietened them down and said:

“Some of you have asked who’s up the back.  This is Ms______ and she’s from ______”

Well.  If the emphasis on the Ms didn’t give away that the kids were asking pronoun related questions, the “WOAH” when she said it sure did.

Awkward.

And a little unpleasant.

I’m temporary amusement and the kids were soon distracted away from me.  While I felt pretty crap about the whole thing, it’s not so uncommon for me to get this reaction when I’m in new schools.  What was even worse was what happened later in the class. 

When talking politics, they thought Bin Laden was from Iraq.  Turns out their education is not only deficient when it comes the breaking down the gender binary.

Moving in packs

I went out to dinner with a dozen women the other night.  Good friends, all dykes.  For a range of reasons we ended up in a pretty suburban restaurant.  It’s well known by locals and the food is pretty good.  We were seated at a big table up the back and had pretty loud conversations for a couple of hours.  The table next to us knows up better than they wanted to.  It was a good night, for the company and the fact that no one kicked me out of the women’s toilets.  Ok, so no one else was there when I was, but I take any evening without being accosted as a win.

The fun came at the end of the evening.  It’s an average sized restaurant and we had to walk the length of it to get out. Twelve women leaving at once is perhaps a little odd, as most tables were of mixed gender.  But it was the five of us that were clearly not so straight that I think drew the attention.  The rest of the group were guilty by association. And they didn’t look so straight to begin with. Needless to say, the place was pretty silent as we left. 

But it felt ok.  It wasn’t an isolating experience, where I had to second guess myself and wonder if I was imagining it, or checking if I was safe.  I was part of a pack.  And it felt pretty awesome.

Public places

A new school year here, and a chance for me to get back into other people’s classrooms and see a bunch of new teachers and new kids.  I work in high schools because that’s where I was trained, but it’s what I prefer.

Primary kids scare me.  They’re little and the world is so black and white and gender is a perfect example.  Short hair you’re a boy, long hair you’re a girl.  And while I don’t work in primary schools, I managed to run into enough kids to make me (and their parents) feel uncomfortable.  Mainly in shopping centres. And then mainly in shopping centre toilets.

Seriously, what are your options when a kid screams ‘ what he doing in the women’s toilets mummy?!?!’  

Answer - not many. I have found the last thing a mother wants is the man/butch lesbian/strange person in the toilets to talk to their kid.  They’re either embarrassed or they’re scared.  Neither ends well.  The mother generally mumbles something to their child and I beat a hasty exit.  But you carry you things with you, more than they do. 

I know it’s about me, so I have a place in it.  But I feel the damage is done when people feel under threat, and the least confrontational thing to do is back away.  Slowly.

Visibility. Again

The question of visibility raises the chestnut of assimilation or separation.  I prefer to be separate.  I like feeling like I’m part of a renegade group who push the boundaries.  I don’t really do it anywhere else but in how I look and who I live with. Apart from that, I work, pay taxes, drive on the right side of the road (which is actually the left side). But in that most obvious sense, I’m a bit on the outer of the mainstream.

My friends, however, are a different story.  Many of my dyke comrades have had kids (five couples so far, with another two in the works) and several have moved to the suburbs.  They send Christmas cards, our email updates about their families.  They appear happy, but it’s not a life I want.  They are straighter than the straight couple next door.  ‘Married’ (four of the five had commitment ceremonies), monogamous, with child/ren and conforming to all of societies expectations.  Except for the bit where they married a man.

I don’t want to disrespect them.  Like I said, they seem happy. But it’s no longer the radicalism that has been the hallmark of the queer community for over fifty years.  Perhaps it’s easy to say now that we have legal rights and don’t get routinely bashed/arrested/shunned for being LGBT. Maybe I am being arrogant and self entitled.  But I look at my married friends and have less and less in common with them.  I have begun to hang out with straight couples without kids and other less traditional queer folk.

The second part of this argument seems to point to the importance currently placed on gay marriage.  Which, really, is a topic for another time.

Armour

I worked with a guy once, he was nice enough, for a PE teacher.  Anyway, I swear he had no armour. He just came in as he was.  You know what I mean, normally you put your game face on, especially when going to work, even if it's somewhere you like.  You prepare yourself, you have a facade of some sort.  He just didn't do that.  He was a bit annoying, but it was all him.  Work didn't tire him, because he didn't waste energy projecting what he thought people should see.  I didn't particularly like or dislike him, but I really envied his ability not to put on a front.  It wasn't conscious, I don't think.  Being a straight white guy he didn't need to do anything more to fit in and not have people question him. But for me, someone who is so conscious of what people expect and the performance of the everyday, he was quite refreshing.  Almost enviable.

Queer colleagues

After my last post and comment, I got to thinking about working in schools with other queer staff, and I remembered something that happened about five years ago.

I started at this new school, got to know the staff etc.  Remember, I'm pretty readable as queer and I was out to whomever it came up with. There was one out dyke on staff, but she was pretty quiet and we didn't have a lot to do with each other, simply due to the nature of our different subjects etc.  After about six months I find out two of the female staff I worked with have been together for a few year.

Huh?

I had clocked one of them (A), but the other (B) I had no idea about.  Not only that, a lot of staff knew about it - they'd gotten together while they'd worked at the school and now lived together.  Sometimes they socialised with other  staff as a couple.  Awesome, right?

Not so.  They were in this limbo land of being out, but not really.  Like I said, a lot of people knew they were together, but they pretended really hard they weren't.  (Just to clarify, none of use were out to students, so when  I say out, I mean to other staff).  Eventually, I got to know them a little better.  This meant I started lending them copies of The L Word, because they had never heard of it (?!).  In this transactional/ gossipy exchange about now mutual friends (the cast) I noticed something strange.

Dyke A was embarrassed to be seen talking to me.  I had clocked her from the start, she was kinda out, but she was awkward about being seen talking me with me - a more visible dyke.  I thought perhaps she didn't like me, but she was fine when there was no one else round.  Nope, it was being associated with a higher level of dyke-ness.  And when we spoke about The L Word, we weren't screaming about it or anything.  Just a nice chat at the water cooler.

Suffice to say, the traffic in L Word stopped (they had caught up to my supply anyway) and conversation with A slowed.  Apart from a bizarre conversation with B about what Shane was doing by the pool in an episode, we had less and less to do with each other until they left the school (together.  To work at another school.  Together). It was kind of disappointing.  But what was really sad to me was them.  They were out, but not.  They were so scared and weird about it.  I'm by no means advocating being in or out of the closet here.  But they were both so uncomfortable the whole time, other people ended up feeling uncomfortable when they were near them.

Others

So, I ran my anti-homophobia session.  It went fine.What was strange was how one queer understood it.  I spoke to a woman about it, and she basically said she was sick of being the only queer in the room.  She’s seen as a lesbian, but she doesn’t identify as one, and all this talk of gay stuff is somewhat irritating to her.

Really?

Yep.  She, on a personal level, is sick of hearing about it and isn’t worried about being a queer teacher.What I got from this was interesting.  I ran the session for all teachers, of course.  But I did consider the gay/lesbian teachers and their 'situation'.  And I wanted to reach out to them.  I love finding community in odd places and banding together. I get a kick out of seeing other queer teachers in schools, and know that we represent in the oddest corners of the straightest places. And I guess I assumed they all felt this way.  That even without acknowledging it, we understood each other. Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe I’m the only one who seeks out my brethren in this way. Perhaps I focus too much on it, perhaps it’s too important to me.  But I really like that idea. Almost like there is a secret treasure in every new place, a sibling you have yet to find. Sometimes they’re hidden and others times they’re visible across a football field.  As one of the latter, I look for support/safety and comradeship where ever I end up.