“Butch comes in many flavors. Some butches can pop the hood of your car and instantly detect a lifter tap or a worn timing belt. Some butches can knit the coolest scarves. Some butches bind their chests and are accustomed to being called “Sir”. Some butches smooth foundation on their faces after a refining masque and tap on a little mascara. Some butches are comfortable in Levis and an A-shirt. Others will grab a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. I even knew a butch who—tattooed with a cigarette perched in the corner of her lips—hopped on her Harley in heavy leather boots and a flowered sundress. Butch isn’t about looking a certain way. All that stuff is just details. Like the differences between chairs—All chairs are made for sitting, but not all chairs look the same or accept a body in the same way. Butch is a state of mind. It’s a function of personality. It’s in the heart and in the blood. It’s not about what a butch does or wears. It’s how a butch feels. It’s how a butch approaches life from a metaphysical perspective. Butch is a matter of soul. Intangible. Mysterious. Boundless. And pure.” — Britton D.
Posted on: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 05:41:06 +0000
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