To Be Black, Intellectual and Butch

by Adrienne “Aj” Davis
Conference Co-Chair and Board Member
Butch Voices

It took me a long time to decide what to say about being a black butch woman.  A great deal has already been said, rivers of ink have flowed and countless electrons sent whizzing around the Internet, in the name of defining and illustrating what it is to be butch.  However, there’s an image of butchness that is rarely seen or even recognized:  what of the butch intellectual?  The TV host, Rachel Maddow, is really the first acknowledged butch intellectual I’ve ever seen.  Leslie Feinberg, whatever other appellations might crown her in glory, isn’t referred to as an intellectual.  Butches are known to be many things, we all carry an image of a butch in all her glory but amongst those images, I’d wager that very few of them are of a woman sitting at a desk eagerly figuring out some arcana of Linux or Apple Script or lying on a couch, some copious tome on evolutionary biology or string theory in her hands.  Yet, we do exist.  I know we do because I am one.

(A quick note on pronouns, I am a woman-identified butch and so will use the pronouns I feel comfortable with, these should not be taken as any commentary on how others identify)

I am black, I am butch, and I am an intellectual.  I use that term in the classical sense of one who lives for the life of the mind and for ideas.  I am happiest when I am either reading something that makes my brain hurt or engaging in a fast-paced discussion about politics or some arcane subject.  It took me a long time, over a decade, to become truly comfortable with this fact about myself.  In part this is because there were (and still are) precious few depictions of butch intellectuals in lesbian literature or film.  We work with our hands, we shower after work, we have callouses and steel-toe boots.  What we don’t have are jobs where we sit and do mental work all day.  For some odd reason that is supposed to be the province of femmes.  Yet, here I sit, at a desk where I don’t ever touch anything other than my keyboard and mouse.  My tools are all electronic.  The muscles I use are mostly in my head and hands.  That I am a black butch means that I am even more of a strange attractor.

Regardless of what we might think of it, much of being ‘butch’ gets framed within the context of embracing masculinity.  Unfortunately for some of us, this embrace comes along with the baggage ‘real men’ aren’t thinkers.  For whatever reasons, we have internalized the idea that to be a ‘real butch’ means that one is a body-person not a head-person.  Yet, here is something we embrace for no good reason that I see. Since we butches already transgress gender rules, we have purchased the freedom to embrace or reject whatever typical gender traits we wish.  Why, then, should we reject one  of the more pernicious myths of masculinity–namely that to be strong is to be a doer not a thinker.

Now, some of this is obviously class-based and, of course, class is a mind-field at least as fraught with peril as race.  I am not working-class nor do I come from a working-class background.  The times I have been poor in my life, it has been because of youth or bad decision making not because it was the way I grew up.  The image of butchness that most lesbians would recognize as such is working-class.  One could make a fair argument that being an intellectual or an academic is a luxury for the middle-class and that’s okay as far as it goes.  However, the truth of the statement does not change, in any substantive way, that middle-class butches do exist.  We are doctors, professors, lawyers, accountants, etc.  I cannot make an even half-decent approximation of a working-class butch and I would not insult my sisters and brothers who genuinely are from the working-class by trying to appropriate something that does not belong to me.

This leaves me with the task of being my own role model, carving out my own space.  That task can be difficult and frustrating at times but I have also experienced it as liberating.  The frustration has come from the friction of other lesbians expectations of me as a black butch and my own; I am not supposed to be from where I am from, not supposed to love the things I do nor am I supposed to aspire to be a black, butch, Carl Sagan.  Yet, here I am, with a background that I not only cannot change but wouldn’t change.  Here I stand, wanting to fill the void left when Sagan shuffled off this mortal coil.

In writing this, I am reminded of Sojourner Truth’s speech “Ain’t I a woman?” In closing, and with apologies to the sister’s memory, my question isn’t am I a woman.  Bathroom incidents not-with-standing that question is settled.  Rather, the question is ‘ain’t I a butch?’

Ain’t I a butch?  I can get out there and work with the best of them.  Work myself until my bones hurt.  Yet, in my work-a-day life all of my heavy lifting is done with my brain.  My hands are for typing or gesturing or fidgeting while I digest the contours of whatever knotty problem I am hacking on.  Ain’t I a butch?

I can put on my butch cock and give my lady exactly what she needs to sing for me.  Yet, I don’t identify as a guy, a Daddy, or a fella.  Ain’t I a butch?

My cycle is pedal powered, not motorized.  Ain’t I a butch?

You’re more likely to find me in the library than on the softball field.  Ain’t I a butch?

I cry whenever I see The Color Purple and it gets to the point where Shug reconciles with her father.  I weep during that scene.  Ain’t I a butch?

I live for the life of the mind.  Ain’t I a butch?

I’m as comfortable in a Brooks Brothers suit as I am in jeans and a tee-shirt.  Ain’t I a butch?

Butch Voices is Necessary because…

Just a few months ago, a lesbian was beaten and gang raped in Oakland. Jane Doe.

Khadijah Farmer was kicked out of a restaurant in NYC during Pride for using the women’s restroom because she was too masculine in appearance.

Did it matter the specific identity that Jane or Khadijah called home or the pronouns that they used?

No.

We all face the same prejudice, violence and hate for not fitting society’s definitions of masculinity, femininity, woman, man, lesbian, you name it. We’ve been shunned by various factions of even marginalized queer groups. We’ve been beaten, harassed, fired, raped, and murdered for being other. We’ve been chastised for being too masculine or not feminine enough. We are consistently put into people’s boxes that are too tight over and over again.

Butch Voices is a way for all of us to come together. To connect. To share our stories. To support each other. To learn from each other.

Feature Story

As someone who continues to explore my gender as a Genderqueer Butch, I continue to look for spaces that are inclusive to all aspects of me. Those spaces have been few and far between for me. I’m Southern born and raised, originally from the suburbs of New Orleans, or N’awlins as we say back home. I grew up a tomboy. I dated boys and later men, and then came out as a lesbian at the age of 22. So many different times over my life trying to fit in with who I thought I should be, instead of who I actually was inside. Often times pushing and pulling with various points of masculinity and femininity in my life, coming to a sense of place, a home within the past few years to where I am today. Coming into Butch hasn’t been something that happened overnight. It also continues to be a struggle and an evolution for me.

I’ve attended and presented at conferences looking to find tribe and build community. I’ve attended transgender conferences and also attended other queer conferences as an ally to others. The spaces I’m hoping to create with Butch Voices are for self identified Butches, Studs, and Aggressives.

The organization and conference are centered in the same vision, to create space to allow for shared personal experiences to mingle with theory, support, and entertainment in an effort to evolve identities beyond just being visual stereotypes.

Often times our appearances can take center stage and give way to many assumptions about our identities as well as us as individuals. Appearance can often be the gradient for dictating who or what is Butch, Stud, or AG. And often times that is not a complete representation, nor is it accurate or a fair measurement, and it can create areas of contention around who is Butch, Stud, or AG, or who is _______ enough to be welcome within these identities and spaces.

Butch Voices is looking to go beyond the superficial layers to get to issues that affect us all, regardless of our exterior presentation. The spaces at the conference will be designed for voices to be shared through workshops, networking, art, performance, media, and various other forms to connect our stories with each other.

This space is inclusive to anyone who identifies as Butch, Stud, or Aggressive, along with other closely aligned identities, as well as this community’s allies.

This space is open to all regardless of race, ethnicity, age, sexuality, sex, presentation, ability, size, religion, hair style, or class.

The primary focus will be on areas where our identities intersect, which can sometimes serve as dividing lines, and also in those areas of identity that we have in common.

I have a lot of hope for this organization and our first conference. It’s not that often that I’ve been fortunate enough to gather with a group of Butches, Studs, and Aggressives. When I have had the opportunity to do so, it has been life changing for me. I’m looking forward to creating and sharing more of these moments with others, and helping others experience this for themselves for the first time and many more times to come.

I’m excited to have the opportunity where we can have challenging conversations about privilege, share in ideas of anti-oppression, come up with ways we can be supportive of each other, and gain from the strength we create in coming together across various divides.

Joe LeBlanc
President and Conference Chair
Butch Voices