My Heart Is With The Rugged Butches, Who Don’t Care To Try Embodying A Dapper Persona, Baggy T-shirts

my heart is with the rugged butches, who don’t care to try embodying a dapper persona, baggy t-shirts and Hanes sports bras, basketball shorts and overgrown buzz cuts

my heart is with the trashy femmes, who wear the faux fur leopard print coat they scored at the thrift 4 years ago every day that it’s even remotely cool enough to pull off, the passenger seat of their beat up car filled with empty Red Bull cans and empty packs of newports.

my heart is with the butches who aren’t tough as nails, butches who cry at every sad movie, who love romcoms, who are afraid of a fight. The butches who protect their femmes by building them an armor of love and safety, who stand up for their fellow butches by being a calm force in a raging world. Praise be to their softness, their golden hearts so warm.

my heart is with the angry femmes, tired of being stomped on by men’s expectations of who they should want to spend their time and share their body with , femmes who are tired of being infantilized because they are beautiful and often underestimated. Praise be to the surety in their voices when they tell a man to get the fuck out of their way.

Praise be to the dykes, shaved heads, carabiners, bandannas, leather jackets. Praise be to the dykes, winged eyeliner, bright red dresses, bouncing curls, high-heeled boots, purple lipstick, rings on every finger.

my heart belongs to the femmes and the butches.