It happened a couple of summers ago, but I remember it as if standing in line at the post office today…
The next person to be called to the service desk was a tall, lanky, butch lesbian. From where I stood (three people behind her), I was able to appreciate the smooth blemishless dark chocolate complexion and enjoy her lovingly doting manner with her giggling teenage daughter. In my eyes, she was fierce and attractive as only a dual-spirited woman can be.
Others around us had a different opinion.
The two women in front of me actually hung back as the line progressed, I’m assuming so as not to “catch” anything. She had to notice but kept her head up, chatted with her child and ignored them.
Have I said how much I adore the dignity of a proud butch woman?
When she approached the desk, the postal workers snickered, including the platinum blonde down-low (as low can be–she hit on me every chance she got) boidyke that assisted her. As a matter of fact, she’s the one who started the derisive laughter in the first place!
A couple of men behind me chuckled at the obvious duality of masculine and feminine energy this woman possessed. It hurt that they mocked the self-same female masculinity that makes my shiver quiver. I’m still waiting for the ‘funny’.
As she was leaving, I made eye contact and gave her my best “I’ve got your back” smile. I wasn’t about to let her stand alone. Plus, femme lesbians are clothed in invisibility much the same way our beloved butch counterparts are visible. It may be presumptuous of me but I do believe that we understand more than anyone else. We have a hard row to tow inside and outside of the LGBT community.
As for the self-hating boidyke behind the service desk, she tried her best to chat me up as usual. I was in no mood for her vacillating self. I freely admit that I wanted to choke her with a roll of stamps. Instead, I did the solidarity thing with the classy butch, who nodded, smiled and wished me a good day.
I only wished I’d worn a rainbow sundress too.