In an effort to both allocate space for and document the existence of masculine women, photographer Meg Allen created a powerful series of portraits for an exhibit at Cafe Gabriela in Oakland, Calif.
Entitled BUTCH, Allen’s series not only represents genderqueer women for a broader, heteronormative audience, but reaffirms butch identity within the queer community at a time when “butch flight,” or gender transitioning, is arguably becoming more and more commonplace. It is, as Allen says on her website, “an homage to the bull-daggers and female husbands before me, and to the young studs, gender queers and bois who continue to bloom into the present.”
These are some good looking folks
This is all I have ever wanted to see. My butch friends may sometimes get “Why don’t you just become a man?” in the same way folks would tell me “Why don’t you just be a butch lesbian?” Because masculinity and gender identity are two totally separate bubbles, that for some become a venn diagram, and for others, coexist peacefully inside of us.
Two things can exist independently, and coexist peacefully. Gender identity and masculinity/femininity/androgyny.
w h o a
keep in mind many men don’t really like women, they like the high regard afforded them by other men when seen with a certain kind of woman. they like the confirmations of their masculinity and sexual prowess when engaging physically with a woman, and they like the ego boost of being attractive to many women. but they do. not. like. women.
yeah so i slept with this dude last night and idk we were chatting a bit during the sexy time and for some reason his birthday came up and i was like “wait 25th of september? DUDE me TOO, wtf thats such a coincidence” and he was like “really? we have the same birthday? are u fuckin with me?” and i just looked down at his penis literally inside my vagina and was like “well technically yeah” and he was like haha nice one and high fived me
Joke of the day.
An Englishman, a Frenchman, a Spaniard and a German are all standing watching a street performer do some excellent juggling. The juggler notices that the four gentlemen have a very poor view, so he stands up on a large wooden box and calls out, “Can you all see me now?”
Took me about ten minutes to finally understand this
stupidest/most awesome joke ever
"There is a profound difference between (what I will refer to as) a ‘liberated woman’ and a feminist. The liberated woman doesn’t really see past herself. She wants (competes for, and often wins) equal pay for equal work, more respect and prestige in the society, more orgasms, higher status - in short, she wants to ‘make it in a man’s world’. Insofar as she appears to dominate the women’s movement the accusations of ‘middle-class!’ are justified. The feminist, however, sees herself as part of a broad movement. She understands the implications of sisterhood and marxism. She does not strive for a bigger piece of the male-defined pie, but rather towards a society where not only all women, but all people are able to define their own existences."
Judith Stein, For a Truly Feminist Art (1972)
The head-turning Game of Thrones actress Gwendoline Christie is a towering 6ft 3in tall and admits she often felt she couldn’t relate to women on the big screen because of her Amazonian frame, but is now relishing the opportunity to play a tough, fierce warrior in the medieval fantasy drama.
She said: “It’s really vitally important to me the way women are portrayed. As someone who has always felt at times pretty genderless because of my size, it interests me to challenge ideas of prejudice and femininity, and what it is to be a woman.”
The towering actress reveals that she had numerous setbacks in her career before landing a prized role as Brienne of Tarth in the hit show, adding: “I found it so frustrating, particularly at the beginning, because I would be told, ‘Sorry love, you’re too tall.’ At one stage I was like, ‘I’ll give this another six months and if this persists, ‘I’ll become a nun.’ “
For her role as warrior Brienne, Gwendoline trained how to fight with swords and ride horses and says it’s “empowering” to know she can “break a man’s nose with my elbow.”
"I do all my own stunts and come away with bruises and scratches. After one scene I was absolutely covered in bruises all down one leg and up one arm. But it’s worth it. It’s quite fun. I enjoy knocking around with the boys."
I cannot get enough of this woman. She deserves all the awards.
“'Experimental Relationship' flips the image of masculine power on its head, turning the woman into the purveyor of control through poses, gestures and interactions between two parts of a couple, all caught on film. In the photos, Moro (Liao’s boyfriend) can be seen as the submissive party — directed, managed and laid bare (quite literally) by Liao.
With captions like “You don’t have to be a boy to be my boyfriend” and the seemingly facetious “Relationships work best when each partner knows their proper place,” Liao disrupts our gendered expectations and creates a beautiful examination of passion and sexual connection along the way.”
"i’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is"
people who benefit from the way it is and do not want to change it any time soon and aren’t sorry at all (via gaymeofthrones)
ugh yes. people who justify unfair shit by saying “well life’s not fair” as if they somehow don’t have a moral obligation to try to make the world a fairer place
I am so sick of being sick of who I am."
"I think we still live in a culture that assumes that men are single by choice and women are single because no one wants them."
Sara Eckel, This is Why You’re Still Single (It’s Not Why You Think) … YES. (via live-to-the-point-of-tears)
When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a difficult and personal topic and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and identify as female in a female body, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend."
By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)