So many of us Butches grew up with a similar struggle, and it wasnt till I met the Dyke Witches, and among them.a Butch Witch or two, who taught me to have PRIDE in my Female body, honor my menses, and in being a Dyke!!

Madam Nomad

A new essay from Anonymous Sister:

butch_fb.jpgSHAMING THE BUTCHES

If I hadn’t been shamed and judged by the following people, I wouldn’t have wasted any time hating myself for being butch: parents, peers, friends, teachers, therapists, siblings, aunts, grandmothers, cousins, neighbours, co-workers, androgynous lesbians, coaches, physicians.

I think the war with my parents began at 2 years of age. I crawled into my father’s closet and came out in one of his po’boy hats then tried to grab his size 11 shoes and fit my feet into them. I wanted his briefcase, too. I’d crawl around and drag it with me until my exasperated mother would retrieve it and place it out of my reach. I was defining my butch style even then. But they’d have none of it. Years later, my father on his deathbed said to me, “you weren’t like the other little girls. You had crushes on…

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