_Lately, I've been pondering the whole idea of marriage as a state creation, and the government's involvement in family structure.  First, let me be clear: I'm just trying this argument on for size; I'm not entirely convinced it's right.  But as a thought experiment, follow me down this road for a minute.  Imagine that the government was no longer in the business of sanctioning any family structure at all.

First, suppose that there was no such thing as state-sanctioned marriage.  No tax benefits for being married, no deductions, no implications for social security credits.  Instead, marriage would simply be something that people do privately to announce their commitment to their friends or their church or their family or their God.  There would be no legal implications for this, only psychological and emotional ones.

Taking the government out of our private lives would have implications for family structure, too.  There wouldn't be tax deductions for having kids, for example.  Why should the government give people a financial incentive to have a particular family structure?) 

Instead of making sure that your employer gives you leave if you have a child (biological, adopted, whatever), the government could make sure that everyone got a certain amount of leave time to do whatever they wanted.  If you want to have a kid, great.  If you want to write a novel or volunteer at the local animal shelter with that time instead, great. 

It's not that people with families would be "punished;" it's simply that family-related activities wouldn't be privileged over other activities.  Similarly, the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) could still exist, but it wouldn't just be to take care of a family member.  Instead, you could use it if you needed to take care of anyone who was sick, even a friend.

I can imagine downsides to this approach, not to mention logistical difficulties associated with a lack of default rules about various matters (e.g., who can visit you in the hospital).  Health insurance could be problematic, too (though, uh, if we gave everyone health care, this wouldn't be an issue...).  But there's no reason we couldn't find solutions to these problems.

Since, statistically speaking, most people benefit from the laws and policies and practices that endorse particular family structures (and particular activities related to the creation and maintenance of these structures), I doubt that the government is likely to disentangle itself from these anytime soon.  But when we talk about whether gay marriage is worth fighting for, I can't help but wonder if these fights are beyond the point.  As long as marriage remains a government creature, I will remain fully dedicated to marriage equality.  But maybe the real problem is that the government rewards and incentivizes particular ways of living over other ways, calling the structures it endorses "American values," and implicitly branding all others deviant.  If this is so, it is a problem that goes well beyond gay and straight.

I'll be interested to know what you think about all of this, dear readers.  Should marriage be a government creature at all?  At the very least, I think it's worth pondering.

_I'm currently in the middle of Nowheresville, New England visiting my DGF's parents, who live in a retirement home.  For health reasons, her mom is rarely able to leave the home.  And her father is legally blind, which prevents him from going anywhere on his own.

All of this is to explain the following unlikely circumstance in which I found myself on Sunday morning: in a Catholic church, helping escort my DGF's father to Mass.

I've only been to Mass once before, and that was a funeral Mass (or, as I incorrectly called it yesterday, a "death mass"), so this was a new experience for me.  I was instructed ahead of time not to take communion, because I'm not Catholic.  (I was baptized Christian, but this is, I learned, unsatisfactory in the eyes of the Catholic church.)  My DGF is not practicing, but was baptized Catholic, so according to her father, she was allowed to take Communion if she promised to go to confession within the next 30 days (which she was unwilling to promise).  That's right--not 31 days.  Not 35.  30.  (Later, we looked for this rule online and it seems that you actually have to have been to confession in the 30 days before receiving Communion, but we still aren't totally sure.)

Mass was short.  Like, way short.  Like under an hour short.  We went to the 11 am Mass and made it to breakfast by noon.  Perhaps because of the service's length, almost no one bothered to remove their coats.  My most recent churchgoing experience before that was an evangelical-type Baptist church, where the service always lasted over two hours, plus socializing afterward.  I kind of admired the Catholic efficiency. 

There were maybe 250 people attending mass, only five of whom were non-white.  Don't get me wrong--I'm fine with white people (some of my best friends are white people), but there was something disconcerting about being in a nearly all-white room.  (Yeah, I'm white, too.  But still.)  Interestingly, one of the five non-white people happened to be the priest, who I think was Latino, and spoke with a heavy accent.  It was kind of heartening that all these white people, the great majority of whom looked to be 60 or older, had someone of color as their religious leader--a trend that I've since learned is not uncommon in the Catholic church, since many young priests these days come from non-English-speaking countries, particularly Third World countries.

The church program (which was printed in color, something I'm not sure Protestants would allow) didn't say what was happening when in the service, so I just tried to stand, kneel, and sit when I was supposed to.  There was a great deal of ceremony involved.  Continuing to survey the attendees, I began getting a distinct sense that this particular church was more the Santorum variety of Catholic than the Kennedy variety--an impression reinforced by the advertisement of a Planned Parenthood vigil later in the week.

When it came time to take Communion, I was pretty sure that lots of people wouldn't go, given the rules about 30 days and being baptized Catholic.  But as it turned out, my DGF and I were the only people who did not take Communion.  As the people in our row quietly filed to the front of the church, we quietly did not follow them.  This was met with disapproving glances from the other parishioners--glances which lingered for an awkwardly long time, shifting from me to my DGF and back again, and I suspect that around this time, it began occurring to said parishioners that we might be not be the nice young men we had originally appeared to be, but rather homosexual women.  (My DGF, who tends not to notice these things, insists that "no one really looked at us."  I assure you she is wrong.)

Since Lent is approaching, the sermon was largely about giving things up.  I guess one rationale for Lent is that giving something up for 40 days kind of purifies you.  I was not raised Catholic (decades ago, my grandmother was excommunicated for getting divorced, which soured our family on Catholicism long before I was born).  Nonetheless, I emerged from childhood with a near-preternatural susceptibility to guilt, and the whole idea of Lent appeals greatly to this susceptibility.  I mentally counted how many days I'd already gone without ice cream (three) and wondered if I could get retroactive credit.  

At our post-Mass brunch, I asked my DGF's father about my retroactive credit idea, but he said it didn't count.  He also squelched my idea to give something up that I don't feel a need to have anyway, such as cilantro or penises.  I asked my DGF's dad what he was giving up, and it turns out that people over 59 don't have to give anything up at all.  Immediately it became clear why the church had been packed with senior citizens--they were clamoring to take advantage of the loophole.

Personally, I'm no atheist.  My own philosophy is closer to "All steeples point to heaven" (something my excommunicated grandmother used to say).  Well, maybe not all steeples, but you get the idea.  But the whole experience of Mass made me think about how different my life might have been if I was raised in a church like this one.  So many different religions and people and subcultures trying to do what they think is right, but simultaneously certain they've cornered the market on God.

              

I recently read this story in the New York Times about a photographer who takes pictures of old animals.  I find the pictures beautiful, and they made me think about aging.  I've long thought societies that revere and cherish older people have gotten it right.  I live in the U.S., where people start saying they're "getting old" in their thirties or forties, where people love getting carded, and where it's considered insulting for someone to guess that a person (especially a woman) is older than she really is.

I'd like to think that the lesbian community is different, and that we have tons of respect for the older (by "older," I mean 60s or 70s plus) dykes among us.  But I'm not sure this is true.  More than once, I've heard people my own age (30s) talk disparagingly about older lesbians, saying that they don't "get it" with regards to boi culture, or trans culture, or some other aspect of contemporary queer life.  (And, to be fair, I've occasionally heard older lesbians say disparaging things about queer youth culture, too.)

Why does this age divide exist?  Maybe because LGBTQ history and culture have evolved so rapidly in the last 50 years.  Maybe those who came of age in the Stonewall era share less with their younger counterparts than is true for straight people.  I don't think so, though; I suspect it's a manifestation of a broader tendency to dismiss older people rather than integrating them into society and seeking their wisdom.  And why does this tendency exist?  Are we obsessed with "progress," which we conflate with youth and newness?  Does hanging out with old people scare us because we don't understand it?  Does it force us to confront our own mortality?

It's especially important for the LGBTQ community to take care of its older members, because in many ways, it's harder to be an old dyke than it is to be an old straight woman.  Here are a few reasons why:

• Lesbians have more health problems than straight women do.  (This stems in part from higher rates of obesity, smoking, and alcohol abuse among lesbians than among straight women.)  Heath problems become more severe with age.
• While many lesbians have kids, we are less likely to have them than straight women are.  Old people are often taken care of by their kids; a lot of lesbians lack this resource.
• Lesbians are more likely than straight women to be alienated from their families.  This means fewer financial resources, but also fewer social ones--leading to increased rates of depression.  
• Lesbians often have few legal resources if their partner dies.  The deceased partner's family may challenge the living partner's legal standing to keep property or other assets that previously belonged to the couple.
  

I'm curious to know what you all think about this.  In general, do you think the queer community takes care of older dykes?  Should we? 

Do you ever hang out with older lesbians?  What's it like?  Tell us about your experiences: positive, negative, whatever.  And if you're a 60+ lesbian reading this blog, I'd love to hear your perspective about younger queers.

_Thus far, my 2012 has been characterized by two rounds of pancakes and four episodes of "Breaking Bad" (we're halfway through season 4).  This has  been typical of the past week (just add Bananagrams, cookies, and friends, and you'll get the picture).  And although I'm a tad embarrassed to own up to this orgy of gluttony and sloth, it's been a wonderful relief to give myself permission to take some time off.

I'm not much on New Year's resolutions.  I make resolutions all the time.  Sometimes I stick with them, sometimes not.  For example, I was once a vegetarian for a month and a vegan for a different month.  For three weeks, I wrote every day.  When my resolve peters out, I tend not to feel bad, but look at the resolutions more as experiments.  "Interesting that I no longer feel so compelled to keep vegan," I might think to myself while chowing down on a buffalo burger. 

Maybe my approach has been too forgiving.  In any case, I usually keep my resolutions to myself.  I don't want anyone bothering me about them, and to be totally honest, I don't want to be embarrassed in front of other people if I fail.  But this year, I've decided not only to make some resolutions for 2012, but to post them here.  Maybe y'all will help keep me honest (and maybe my attempt to stick to these will produce some interesting fodder for the blog).

RESOLUTION #1: Post something (basically) every day.  I love writing Butch Wonders and would love to reach more readers.  So I'm committing to writing 300 posts in 2012.  Sure, I may sometimes cop out and just post a sentence or two, but still.  300.  Big commitment.  Because I love you.

RESOLUTION #2: Finish various writing projects.  I won't bore you with the details, since it's not related to BW, but it includes some articles, a novel, and a creative nonfiction piece.  I've got my work cut out for me.

RESOLUTION #3: Support my DGF through the remaining five months of her new job's probationary period, even when it is hard and various circumstances compromise my support abilities.  My DGF had the courage to start a new career post-40 (she's a little older than me), and I really admire her for it.  Plus, she is awesome and totally worth it!

RESOLUTION #4: See my parents about once a month.  They only live two hours away from me, and I want to see them more, even if it's just to meet halfway for a quick lunch on a weekend.  My life is pretty different from theirs, and I think sometimes that makes it easier for people to grow apart.  But I'm committed to not letting that happen.

RESOLUTION #5: Lose 20 lbs, in part by trail running.  Being overweight zaps your energy and is bad for your heart.  My body hangs onto weight about as tightly as Marcus Bachmann hangs onto his heterosexuality.  Plus I'm not willing to completely give up Ben and Jerry's.  So this one will be a challenge.  I should probably lose more than 20, but it's a start.  (Also the least imaginative resolution ever.)  Trail running will help me with this goal.  It will also make my dog reeeeally happy.

Hm.  That's all I can think of now, though I'm sure there are others.  I'd like to list things that are wackier and more exciting: Climb Mt. Kilamanjaro!  Become a hand model!  Learn to play the Didgeridoo!  But I suppose this is a list of resolutions, not a bucket list, so I'm allowed to keep it pedestrian. 

Did you make any resolutions for 2012?

Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, which means that if you want to order any gifts online, you have to do so now to get them in time for the weekend.  After trying to find something good for my grandparents--and then realizing I had to order one-day shipping--it occurred to me that some of you, dear readers, might be facing last-minute online shopping challenges, too.  Here are ideas for grandparents, bosses, aunts, uncles, college roommates, and other people you love dearly but don't see often enough to know what they'd like.  I'm only including items that you can still order in time for Christmas.

_1. Gift baskets.  Who doesn't love receiving a little bounty of snacks?  One of my favorites under $50 is this 1950s Retro Candy Box ($34.99, pictured left), which includes Necco Wafers, Chick O' Sticks, Choward's, and other sugary blasts from the past.  And, for aunts and grandmas who love girlie stuff, check out this Victorian Lace Tea, Spa & Treats Clock Gift Chest ($64.60), which includes candles, lotion, bath gel, and more--all in a wooden chest inlaid with a working clock.

2. Tea Chests and Tea Sets.  A classy gift that's hard not to like, tea chests come in a variety of styles.  Try to get some brand of tea that isn't stocked at your local grocery store.  I recommend this Wissotzky 60 Dessert Flavored Teas in an Ebony Tea Chest ($29.99).  Tea sets are good bets, too.   I like this cool Japanese one ($68.95, pictured right).  If that's out of your price range, how about a simple infuser/mug set ($19.53)?

3. Gift Cards.  These are also kind of impersonal, but they'll do in a pinch.  Plus, don't you love receiving them? This one from Amazon features free one-day shipping.  It's even better than cash, because you feel obligated to spend it on something fun.  You can also get something more specific, like a certificate to their favorite restaurant or movie tickets. 

4. A Coffee Table Book.  These serve a bunch of purposes: showcasing great photography, impressing guests, and messing up orderly bookshelves by being wider than all the other books.  You can find these on virtually any topic, from 1960s surf photography to Andy Goldsworthy's nature-centered art (pictured left) to the history of New York City to (brace yourself) hipster puppies.  There's also a whole genre of amusing websites now available in book form, such as a compilation of hilariously wrong test answers, passive-aggressive notes, and Cake Wrecks.  Think of them as the Harold and Kumar of coffee table books.

5.  Board games are always a hit with families.  Think Apples to Apples, Bananagrams, Cranium, or a classic like Scattergories (my longtime favorite) or Pictionary. 

Okay, you have less than 15 hours left...  shop like the wind, butches!

The huge amount of responses I got to my last post made me wonder if queers are more likely to feel alienated from their families than straight people are.  I mean, if your family doesn't respect your queerness, this is pretty self-evident.  But I know a lot of queers whose family is cool with their queerness, but they still feel alienated.  Why would this be?

One reason I can think of is the kid factor.  Plenty of queers have kids, but on average, we're less likely to procreate than our heterosexual counterparts (partly because homo sex ≠ babies, and partly, I'm guessing, for a whole host of other social/cultural/maybe-even-biological reasons).  Holidays tend to center around a traditional family structure, and also tend (for good reason) to center around kids.  Sometimes we don't really fit into that.

My own family is an example of this.  I have a brother (I'll call him DB for Dear Brother) who is married and has a young daughter.  I love my niece dearly, and love DB and his wife as well.  Partly because DB has a kid, a trend has emerged: My parents and DB's wife's parents, who live 10-12 hours' drive apart, spend Christmas together.  Actually, it's more like my parents have been subsumed into DB's wife's family, since the group includes many other members of her family as well.  So DB and his wife each get to be with both sets of parents every Christmas.  This is convenient for them, and also great for my niece, since she gets to be with all four of her grandparents every year.

As you can probably figure out, this leaves me in a slightly weird place.  Do my DGF and I drive 10-12 hours to spend Christmas with DB's wife's family?  Last year, we did; we rented a car and spent some time on our own and some time with them.  This year, however, they are renting a house in a remote, snowy location and spending four nights there.  DGF and I were invited to come (though we were not invited to help decide where Christmas would happen).  DGF and I decided we would not come along this year.  Our decision was met with much sadness and consternation by my parents.

The first two years it happened, I was annoyed that my parents decided to join a new clan.  But now I am at peace with it: they want to be with their grandkid, and this way they can see her every Christmas.  I understand.  The hard part for me is the expectation that I will always join them.  My mom is upset that I am not coming this year.  And while I am sad that I will not be with my parents, DB, sister-in-law, and niece, I do not wish to drive 12 hours to spend four nights with my DB's wife's family.  They are nice people.  But I have decided I will come along some years, and not others.  This is the first year I've said no.  I'm okay with my parents' choice about how to spend their Christmas, but I wish they better understood my decision to sit this one out.  I'm not trying to prove or anything by not going, either.  I just don't feel like going again this year.

If I had kids, things would probably be different.  Either my parents would switch off between my brother and I for Christmas, or I guess I would go along so the cousins could be together.  But I don't have kids, and I don't foresee having them in the near future.  And so as a result, Christmas is as I've described above.  And it just leaves me feeling weird and sad.  Am I being selfish?  Independent?  Petulant?  Self-actualizing?  I don't know.  I wish Christmas wasn't loaded with so many weird emotions. 

I'm hoping that this year, the DGF and I can start some traditions of our own.  Last night, we lit a candle for Hanukkah (we're not Jewish) and I gave her all of her Christmas presents.  It was wonderful and unexpected and romantic.  On Christmas, we're planning to spend some time with our friend M, and some time with our friends C&D (C is my butch buddy; D is her awesome wife).  Maybe we'll think of some other traditions to incorporate.  Will we bake cookies together?  Go to church?  Eat Chinese food with Jewish friends on Christmas eve?  Who knows.  But despite my weird guild/sadness/confusion about family stuff this year, I'm looking forward to creating some traditions that are mine and my DGF's. 

How about you guys?  Any sticky family situations you're avoiding?  Any cool new holiday tradition ideas that you and your DGF share?

If you grew up celebrating Christmas, the holiday that used to bring you unbridled joy may now bring a big ol' dollop of mixed emotions.  When we were kids, Christmas was less complicated.  After all, what can top the idea of a benevolent, costumed, bearded man leaving gifts while you sleep?  (Hmm, come to think of it, that sounds like something a gay man dreamed up.)  But if you're like me, somewhere along the way, Christmas stopped being so easy.  Note: if you're totally stoked about the holidays this year, this entry doesn't apply to you: go have a cup of eggnog or something.

My own mixed feelings about Christmas have to do with divorce, with people I miss, and with various types of guilt.  For others of you, it has to do with a falling out with your parents, or with the death of someone you love, or with the frustration of having to pretend to be someone you're not.  These aren't exactly thoughts you can bring up at the office holiday party.  Instead, they're the kind of things that hit you when you're in line at the drugstore at 9:30 pm with a box of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of zin in the other (just hypothetically, of course), and "The Little Drummer Boy" starts blaring from the store speakers, and--BOOM--a wave of Holiday Depression.

The first thing to know about Holiday Depression is that you're not alone.  Lots of people deal with it; they just don't talk about it.  The second thing to know about Holiday Depression is that it passes.  Don't let yourself think that your unhappiness during the holidays is somehow symbolic of the shortcomings of your life more generally.  Because this is not true.  Holidays are the time of year when the highest number of people report feeling depressed.  You will feel a hell of a lot better in January.  I promise. 

A few quick fixes for dealing with a sudden wallop of Holiday Depression:
-    Lay on the couch.  Put your headphones on and listen to the least holiday-ish music you can think of.  Angry, not sad.  I recommend Tool, Rage Against the Machine, or whatever the current equivalent of that stuff is.
-    Open up Pandora and create a "Suzanne Westenhoefer" station.  Listen.
-    Start planning a trip for somewhere you're going to go in 2012.
-    Write to me.  Ask me anything.  Or tell me something you don't feel like telling anyone else.
-    Do a project that involves plants or animals.  Personally, I love paperwhites, and they're only about $1 each for the bulbs.  You can grow them in anything and it's mesmerizing. 
-    Buy yourself a new watch, or some other stylish thing that you will look awesome in.  My DGF (and others) call this "shopping therapy." 
-    Clean your whole house.  Rearrange stuff that's been bothering you.  It will distract you, let your mind wander, and make you feel like you accomplished something.
-    Go for a walk or a run--anything that gets you outdoors.  Don't come back until you're exhausted.  Then take a nice hot shower.

These are only temporary fixes, but sometimes a quick fix is all we need to get us over the hump.  So let's hear from you: Do you ever get hit with Holiday Depression?  And what do you do about it?

Whether we're 15 or 50, it's hard to shake the need for our parents' acceptance.  For the non-gender-conforming among us, that can be a long (and sometimes hopeless) road.

When I first started to come out--what, five years ago or so?--it was not easy.  Here are a few highlights:

• I come out to my mom when we are eating lunch at PF Chang's.  But I can't make myself say it out loud and I begin bawling in the middle of the restaurant.  Later that day, my mom suggests that maybe it's just that my DXH isn't the right guy for me.
  
• My parents visit for the day.  I come out to my dad while he and I are walking my dog.  He says nothing for the rest of the walk.  We get back and he still says nothing.  My parents leave immediately, though we'd been planning to have dessert together.  My dad calls the next day and talks stiltedly for an hour about the Red Sox.
  
• My mom tells me on the phone that my girlfriend is not invited to Thanksgiving.  She calls back two hours later and tells me she's sorry, and that my girlfriend can come.  I bring said girlfriend.  Awkward dinner ensues.
• My mom asks if, even if I am a lesbian, do I have to look like one?
• I come out to my grandmother, who promptly tells me she is very sad that I will probably die of AIDS.
  

While I don't think it's healthy for us to dwell on our family's acceptance of our sexual orientation or gender presentation, it can feel lousy when they don't "get it," and great when they do.  A few things have happened in the past few months that have really cemented my (very conservative) family's acceptance of me:

• My DGF comes to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' house.  We stay three nights.  My mom sets up a bed for us.  It is not awkward.  My one-year-old niece calls us both "auntie."
• My parents watch "Project Runway."  My mom says jokingly, "I dunno, your father likes Tim Gunn an awful lot..."  My dad replies cheerfully, "Hey, maybe I'm a 25-percenter!"
• My grandmother says it's "great" that my DGF and I have moved in together.
• My parents visit for the day and bring a bottle of wine to congratulate my DGF on her new job (this is after my mom regularly looked for jobs online that would be suitable for my DGF and emailed them to me to pass along to her). 
  
• When I jokingly tell my mom that a particular butch lesbian is "flaunting her homosexuality," my mom replies, "Well, I think that some of those gals in Playboy are flaunting their straightness!"

I don't mean to give the impression that we agree on everything now, or that I never feel like a weird outlier, or that everything's hunky-dory all the time.  But I feel pretty dang accepted, and five years ago, I would have never guessed that my relationship with my family would be this good. 

Our progress, I think, is attributable to: (1) unconditional love; (2) a willingness to talk about things that bother us (even if "talking" means arguing); and most of all, (3) a sense of humor.  I'm incredibly grateful for the steps my family members (particularly my parents) have taken to understand me, and I hope that in turn, I've tried to "get" them. 

What signs of acceptance have you received from your family that you wouldn't have thought possible two or five or ten or twenty years ago?

Hey, I was on the radio yesterday!  Here's a link to the show.

The interview improves as it goes along.  I was slightly shaken by talking about my divorce right at the start, but I told Emily Cherin, who hosts "All Things Gay," as long as my anonymity was maintained, anything was fair game, so good for her for cutting right to the chase!  In any case, it was fabulously fun.   I'm just glad no one's said I have a "great face for radio."

One of the things we talked about was when to deviate from deviance.  (I'm using "deviant" only in the technical sense: different from the norm.)  Many butches deviate from average female gender presentation daily.  But should we ever feel compelled to "femme it up" a little?  Here are some possibilities, along with my recommendations.

Situation: You're going somewhere where appearing butch might open you to the possibility of physical harm. 
Verdict: Femme it up.
Reasoning: For me, safety comes before psychic or physical comfort.  If you think you might be in danger somewhere, dress accordingly.  And don't bind.  Heck, don't even wear a sports bra if you have a choice.  That's a dead giveaway.  (I know butches who pass as male when they travel.  If you want to try that, fine, but this can become very risky if someone figures it out.)

Situation: You're asked to be a bridesmaid at a traditional wedding, and your friend really wants you to wear what the other bridesmaids are wearing.
Verdict: Toss-up.
Reasoning: Maybe if it means more to your friend than anything in the world, it's worth it to suck it up and put on the satin yellow thing she's trying to foist on you.  Then again, if she's truly a friend, wouldn't she understand that you'd be more at home in a tux and nice vest?  Try reasoning with her, offering to wear what the groomsmen are wearing.  If this fails, offer to take another role, like usher.  This is a sticky situation, and ultimately, it's your call.  If you decide to go for it, I recommend surrendering fashion decisions to the other bridesmaids, closing your eyes, and thinking of England.

Situation: You're visiting your grandparents and your parents ask you to not to wear something masculine. 
Verdict: Play nice, but don't femme it up.
Reasoning: Your family loves you no matter what...  but sometimes they need to be nudged into accepting gender nonconformity.  It's amazing what people can get used to (and sometimes we don't give them enough credit).  But if you never push them, they'll never change.  That said, maybe you don't need to wear a tie to Thanksgiving.  How about khakis and a sweater?  You're not compromising your identity, nor will you give Grandma a coronary.

Situation: You're interviewing for a job in a conservative industry.
Verdict: Don't femme it up.
Reasoning: Unless you plan to femme it up every day on the job, don't do it in the interview.  A nice dark suit--men's or women's--is fine.  (I recommend matching the gender of your suit to the gender of your shoes; your look will be more coherent.)  You'll interview better if you're physically comfortable.  My interview go-to outfit is a dark grey men's suit, black Ecco men's shoes, and a lavender or light green men's dress shirt (tie optional).  Would you really want to work for an employer who balks at hiring a butch?

What's the toughest decision YOU'VE ever had to make re: whether to femme it up?  What did you do?

Dear Mom,

It's only been about 12 hours since I sent you the url of this blog.  During that time, I've checked my email about 20 times to see if you've written back.  Boy, was it hard to send that.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe I'm afraid you won't like my writing, or that you won't like the topics, or that the whole "butch" thing will weird you out.  I mentioned this to a friend, who suggested I write a letter to you on the blog.  I thought it was an awesome idea, so here I am. 

I hope you weren't upset about that last post (or any of the others).  Reading over it, it occurred to me that sometimes we like to talk about the challenging parts of our upbringing.  Being (semi-)confident adults, it's interesting to look back and ponder the ways we didn't fit in as a kid.  I think it helps us make sense of who we are, and how we got here.  But sometimes the negative or neutral stuff is so elucidating that we don't focus as much on the positive stuff.  I've been thinking about that positive stuff a lot today, and wanted to thank you for a bunch of things, including the following:

1. Thank you for never telling me that baseball cards--or anything else--were just for boys.
2. Thank you for encouraging my writing, and for teaching me that you don't get to choose whether or not you're a writer.
3. Thank you for telling me, "We are always in a state of becoming."  I think back to that all the time.  It helps give me the courage to change.
4. Thank you for telling me that you loved me no matter what when I came out to you tearfully in the middle of a very crowded Chinese restaurant four years ago.
5. Thank you for being such a great role model, and showing me that women can be incredibly strong.
6. Thank you for talking to me on the phone when I'm having a crappy day and I call you in a lousy mood.  Somehow, I always feel better after we talk.  
7. Thank you for making my high school prom dress, which was so much more awesome than all the other prom dresses, and made me feel comfortable because it wasn't ridiculously low cut.
8. Thank you for indulging and encouraging my intellectual interests, whether I was a first-grader obsessed with stegosauruses or a grad student obsessed with Haruki Murakami.
9. Thank you for being so welcoming and loving to my DGF, and being so supportive of our relationship.
10. Thank you for instilling the confidence to figure out who I am.  I would not have had the courage to come out, or to start this blog, or anything else, if it wasn't for you.
    

There's more, of course, but lists should always have a nice round number of items.  What if I'd written a list with 6 items?  Or worse, 13?  Preposterous.

Anyhow, Mom, this Butch Wonders thing is going pretty well.  It's been up for only a few months, and I'm getting at least 300 readers every day, and growing.  Yesterday was 642.  Kate Clinton (a famous lesbian comedian) recently endorsed me on her Facebook page, and I also got an invitation to do a radio interview in October.  Not bad, eh?  I'm really enjoying it.  I get to hear from readers (gay, straight, male, female) from all over the place.  The best part is when I learn that something I wrote affected them: helped them come out to their parents, resolve a conflict with their girlfriend, or even figure out what to wear to a wedding.  It's really amazing to feel like I'm making a difference (especially since my day job can, as you know, be pretty abstract). 

I hope to hear back from you soon, and I hope you don't mind hundreds of strangers reading my note to you.

Love,
"BW"