Toss Salads and Scrambled Eggs

What is a butch to do?

So here’s the deal. I’ve been looking for the right type of masculine person to compare myself to, in order to describe my type of butch-ness and the best I can do is this…I am Frasier Crane.

Yep. I watch it in re-runs when I’m sick and realised some stuff, I like snobby/intellectual things and to be comfortable.

I don’t much enjoy beers and sports except for the occasional stella artois and rugby.

If I could buy cool art and eat at expensive restaurants all the time, I would.

And I’m training to work in the mental health field.



Frasier (in reference to his gay boss): …I can’t understand how he would think that. We only talked about the theatre and fashion…Oh Dear God!


So does this now make me a gay man in a female body who likes women?

I am now so much more confused than when I started this post.

Freud would have a field day!


Is It Hot In Here?….Or Is It Just Me?

So B. has decided, since she’s gone back to work, that apparently, she can now take over the world.

She has started working out and has decided her next goal in life aside from going back to school is to become a body builder.

B and I have kind of a butch (me) / femme (her) thing going on.

She’s a little shorter than me but definitely curvier and can put muscle on like no one I’ve ever seen.

When B was in cooking school, the chefs would make her whip things by hand…in our first year of dating, her hands were like steel and her arms were sinewy, veiny, tattooed hotness.

It’s weird how gender and sexuality move in such a weirdly fluid way sometimes.

Sometimes I can’t help but get creeped out at how I melt when she, being a diverse and multi-faceted person, makes jokes like a frat boy while wearing a dress and heels….

…Or how she can fix things around the house when really, I’m mostly good for brute strength and grunt work…ditch digging, lifting couches…that sorta thing.

Anyway, when B exhibits her female masculinity, I turn my head like a dog and perk my hears like I heard something only audible to canines…”huh? wow…your hot!”

I like that B can make me surprise myself by finding something sexy that normal doesn’t do anything….

Also neat is that she’s possessive without being creepy/abusive.

When someone ‘notices’ me, B. notices them back, with another dog like behaviour…MINE!!

While I don’t endorse jealous behaviour, sometimes it’s nice to know your partner gets their feathers ruffled when someone shows you flirty attention.

Here’s a sexy quote for your pleasure:

“ When authorities warn you of the sinfulness of sex, there is an important lesson to be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities. ” –Matt Groening

Building Rome, A Day at a Time

I was not always this person. Well duh monkiss, you’re thinking, we’re all in constant evolution.

My dear reader, I’m sitting in the basement suite I share with my gorgeous wife and feeling a sense of peace and empowerment in my life and that is what I want for you.

Knowing my gender identity and my sexuality was not something that clicked for me one morning; it was a painful and long journey.

I didn’t think I deserved to be the person I am now.

There were out lesbians all around me, some were feminine and lipstick wearing, some androgynous and others more masculine, like me. And I couldn’t look them in the eye.

There was a paralysis that took place when I saw them on the bus or seated in my women’s studies class across from me in the circle where we talked about Germaine Greer or Gloria Steinem or Ellen’s coming-out episode on her sitcom in the 90’s.

I hated them because they weren’t afraid to be who they were and I hated them because I was afraid to listen to the voice inside me that said, yes…this is your tribe and these are your people.

They don’t call it the love that dare not speak it’s name for nothing.

A search for pieces of myself took me through a terminal illness and the wreckage and rebuilding of my body.

I left a 7 year relationship with a man who tolerated someone who had no desire for him, who didn’t burn for him the way I feel for my wife. I don’t know why he did that to himself. That part is not mine to feel guilty about.

After learning how to walk again, he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. That was my moment, my moment to say I can’t choose this life anymore.

For me, being thousands of miles from my family and having little money and no one to talk to was like jumping out of a plane with my eyes closed and no parachute and no knowledge of how badly the landing was going to hurt or if I would come through another risk with my life.

After rising from the ashes, the painfulness of rebuilding, the growing and the work that came from that gave me the strength and the courage to make the next leap.

Leaving that man was brutality, he assassinated my character, he took everything we built together and I let it happen.

Even though I had nothing, I pulled myself up, forced myself into the world anew and reminded myself that as long as I was alive, I was a success, I could change.

My friends, my grandmother and extended family saved my life during those dark and painful days.

By the time B came into my life, I felt indestructible.

I accepted my sexuality and was proud of who I am, I shrugged off the negative stereotypes of being a masculine presenting female and allowed that identity to continue to evolve. I still have days.

We are not what happens to us, we are ourselves and the collection of lessons we take away from the slings and arrows life hurls at us.

I had taken many falls, survived so much damage and pulled myself to a place of success and strength.

The universe had rewarded my work.

B. was the woman in my life who changed everything.

With her, for the first time, I felt things I’ve never had in my life.

I felt what it’s like to want someone, to desire them…body, soul and spirit.
The power of desire cannot be underestimated.

When you are in the minority as a gender identity, sexuality in the way you present yourself to the world, it’s a very lonely and isolating place.

B. was and still is, my everything.

We’ve been together three years and I still don’t know what it’s like to not want her. I may never know.

When I wrap my arms around her each morning, I am home, when I kiss her goodnight, I rest in complete peace, when I come home to her after a day at work, I melt into her arms and smell her hair and know I have arrived.

It took me 30 years dear reader to feel this for the first time. This true love, this true peace.

Building an empire of truth is the only way to live.

I wish you peace dear readers. I wish you love and I wish you success in building your empire.


You’re So Butch

…she purred these 3 words at me, part flirting and part poking me, knowing I didn’t take too kindly to the word.
I was 17 and she was 20. She was my first girlfriend and I owe her a lot of my early learning wherever she is now.

She recognised my species right away, clever girl.

Sixteen years later, I’ve come to wear the identifier as a badge of honour and courage. She’d be impressed.

It’s taken me since then to realise a few fundamental things about the word butch and myself.

I cannot help who I am or how I feel comfortable and I’ve been butch since I was five years old. In kindergarten, I was not interested in barbie dolls and instead got in trouble for leaving school grounds to go fishing.

I was forever getting turpentine and grass stains on knees and elbows climbing trees and begging my parents to let me cut my hair.

My mother and father weren’t without criticism:

“Why don’t you dress like a girl?!”
“If you shave your head, you’re not welcome in this house.”
“Wear a dress for god’s sake.”

Their attitudes and hostility kept me in the closet until I moved away at 20 and even then, kept me from coming out to them until I was 27.

I’m still an interloper in the women’s bathroom and my wife is always there applying her lipstick and keeping me safe.

I try not to make eye contact with other women coming and going and children asking moms why “that man” is in the women’s bathroom. Trust me, we’re not in there to check you out, we’re there cause we gotta go!

My favourite comment from a child was “look mommy! a man with boobies!” It was pretty great.

Me and the little one shared a giggle while the mom ushered her pre-schooler out of the frozen food aisle in the grocery store. I buy frozen pizza just like you lady, is what I wanted to say, but why bother?

Props to her for having a cute little kid I say.

It’s been easier the older I get realising I have millions of peers and compatriots: writers, trades people, retail folks, university profs, other support workers, it’s pretty awesome.

There’s nothing more gratifying than finding a kindred, someone else who felt like a fraud putting on a dress or applying make up. There’s an excellent chance you’ll see them around and when you do, I hope you think of this article and know they’re definitely going through the same thing in life.

As hard as it is to be stared at, occasionally ostracised, yelled ‘dyke’ at, or to be mistaken for a man, on the daily, it is far more difficult to go through life denying who you are.