Page 35 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run

So my dick is still there, technically. It’s just in another, more palatable shape. I have an innie now, not an outie.

::laughing merrily:: No, I don’t miss it.

I never hated my dick, though. I hadda lotta joy with that thing.

It was sweet, in a vulnerable way. I loved making myself come with it.

What I hated is what it made me in the eyes of everyone else: a man.

What I’ve been learning with you is that gender is as much how people relate to you as it is what you feel, and all these people were relating to me as a man, and it was all because of this thing hanging down between my legs, so… snip snip. Happily gone.

Scratch: Do you have all female parts and do you come?

Winc: ::eyes sparkling:: Female parts? When did we become such a prude, dear heart? I have a surgically-constructed vulva, vagina, cervix, and clitoris, if that’s what you want to know. I have no internal stuff like uterus and ovaries.

But wait… what exactly are female parts? I know some terrific women with dicks, and some truly manly men with pussies. And no, you can’t ask me if female = woman and male = man. Well, you can ask me but then you’ll have to watch my brain fry. Right in front of you.

Do I come?

::softly:: Yeah, I can. I do. I have with you.

Scratch: ::blushing:: Okay, well then.

Hope these questions are okay. The more I ask my questions, the more I recognize myself. And yes, I had to learn how to act female, too, and I was born one.

Now, please ask me the questions you’ve got.

Winc: Okay, first a confession. I lied to you a little bit. I knew about butch and femme before seeing that online board. When I was first trying out my girl stuff, I would get myself dressed to the nines, what anybody in their right mind would call femme, right?

Of course right. Now I want to tell you a story.

In the early days of my transition, I would go out to lesbian bars.

It was women only, and I felt more safe there than I’d ever felt anywhere in my life.

I was too scared to try to pick anyone up, or to let someone pick me up.

But there was this one bar I used to go to and sit and have a drink, watch, study, learn.

I couldn’t really relate to all these young bar bunnies, not physically, but the *life* they had!

The exuberance! I wanted that. Alas, there I was, this tall gangly, older man/woman.

They weren’t very gentle with me. Can’t say I blame them, not in hindsight. I was awfully defensive.

Anyway, I finally got up the courage one night to go upstairs, where the bathroom was.

And the bathroom was just off a room filled with all these older women, sitting there in shirtsleeves and ties, some in T-shirts, some in muscle shirts, and always a couple of women in flannel shirts.

They were sprawled out in comfy chairs, and, hon, their eyes lit up the minute I walked into the room.

I’ll never ever forget that moment. They were all butch, and they were happy to see me.

This one sweet butch said, “Hell-l-l-lo, sugar, come have a seat.” And she stood up for me, so gallant. I sat there, and it was a dream come true. They bought me drinks, we danced, I watched them play pool, they showed me how. I choked on one of their cigars, they laughed, but not *at* me.

That was pretty much the moment I first realized I could be happy as girl, with butches.

I went back up there as frequently as I could.

Then, like most of the girl bars in the city, that one closed down, and there was nowhere else to hang out, not that I knew of, anyway.

That’s around the time that Toobe taught me about this online world—where I met my favorite butch of all time.

Scratch: Wow. Good story. Proud of butches for how they were with you.::going back into the laboratory, or is that to the drawing board::

I know that the outside world, and most lesbians nowadays, smirk at the concept of butch/femme.

They smirk at us. But they’re not looking closely, because butch/femme is…

deep and powerful. Whatever it is. Fuck what people think, if it works.

(Although obviously I’m not a classic butch, born too late and never got trained right!)

Winc: You’re surprising me again. You keep doing that, I love that about you. But I’m just going to ask you my questions and see what that leads to. ::deep breath::

Winc: Why do most lesbians have such short hair? ::gently:: Why do *you*?

Scratch: The better question might be to ask a lot of men why they *don’t* have long hair. They’ll probably tell you it’s a pain in the ass to keep up. Most straight men I know love long hair on women, so straight women grow it. Me, I don’t have to.

Winc: Are you *trying* to look mannish? Pass for “man” in the world?

Scratch: Ouch this hurts. What is mannish anyway?

I’ve been asking myself this since I was 9 and my mom told me to put on a shirt when I went outside.

So much shame followed, that what I wanted to be and act like was reduced to wanting to be “like a man.” And that was bad of course.

So it’s taken forever to simply say that I love being a woman.

There’s more ways for women to look than what’s offered in “fast-food fashion.” Sometimes I wear eyeliner because it looks cool.

When I get dressed in the morning, I’m going for comfort, power, and sometimes armor, but never to hide.

Winc: People stare at you like they stare at me. How do you deal with it?

Scratch: Lately I tell myself they stare because I look so damned good. (Okay, this works about a tenth of the time.) Why would I want to look like everyone else?

Winc: Why do lesbians insist on “women only” spaces? Isn’t it just hiding away?

Scratch: It *is* kinda like hiding away and it feels great.

Any guy can tell you how fun it is to sit in a bar with his male buds and watch TV.

It’s a breather from dealing with the “opposite” sex.

He just doesn’t have to put up a bunch of signs advertising where to do it.

My question is, as a former man, can you tell me why do men want to go into women-only spaces, or why are they offended by them?

Why do they think it has anything to do with them at all?

Winc: What do you mean by “men”?

Scratch: Right. ::laughing:: Um, like straight frat boys coming into women’s bars.

Winc: You know, I have no idea. I never wanted to do that when I was living as a man. I do know what you mean, that a lot of straight men go into those spaces. ::shrugs::

OK, this is a hard one for me to ask you. Why do women in women-only spaces refuse to admit transsexual women?

Scratch: That answer is changing even as I speak.

And this is just MY answer. You couldn’t find a more “it depends on who you ask and what space it is” question if you tried.

First of all, I’ve never “refused to admit transsexual women.” In fact it was my discomfort with the whole thing that made me actually talk to transsexual women.

I felt so protective of my new lesbian space that I thought that’s all who should be allowed.

Until I thought for a minute. Then someone tried signs that said “women only,” but there are obnoxious dykes who sure could ruin the vibe so I couldn’t really stick with that.

Before any of us actually talked to a real live transsexual woman, it was this vague fear of being overtaken by “maleness.” But also?

There are many “women-only” spaces that *do* admit transsexuals.

It’s the ones that don’t that get all the attention.

The best tip I got was from a transsexual woman who said, “why not just put ‘no transsexuals’ on your fliers?” I was all offended and then realized she was right.

By saying “women only,” we really were trying to make a policy about being exclusive.

At one event someone came up with, “if you can put your dick in a drawer, and slam that drawer, then you are welcome.” But that was directed only at transsexuals who hadn’t had surgery, which not everyone wants or can afford.

All that made me realize how stupid it was.

I mean, if you want such an exclusive club, just create a private party and invite whoever you want. Don’t plaster it all over fliers.

Winc: First good answer to that question I’ve ever gotten. Thanks.

Okay next… I know that no sexuality is pure. There are always some tickles and surges of lust for people of the “wrong gender.” What do lesbians do with their attractions to men?

Scratch: The great taboo. The younger generation’s doing better than mine on it.

I still get very attracted to men. I used to go to bed with them even though I called myself a lesbian.

But sex with men was always the same, and I never cared about them emotionally, they just don’t interest me.

Now I just enjoy my attractions but don’t act on them.

To hell with people who think that’s being attracted to the “wrong” sex.

That’s where all our struggles started, right?

Winc: What was it like for you, growing up? Were you a tomboy? Did you hang with the guys? Play sports?

Scratch: I was definitely a tomboy. Fortunately so was my mother, so I got to stay tomboy longer than most girls. But then she got freaked out and thought I’d end up being a girl who couldn’t get a guy. She started girl-ifying me.

One day at school I went out to play kickball and only the boys were there!

I looked around for the rest of the girls on the team and finally found them in the bathroom.

They were playing with makeup and showing off their newly shaved legs.

It was like some dog whistle had called them and I never heard it.