The Narrative Really Chewed Him Up And Spit Bro Out

Back on my bullshit (in bed napping with my plushies and dreaming of my butch)

compulsive heterosexuality is truly one of the worst things you could ever experience not only as a lesbian, but also as a feminine woman. i have been a christian for as long as i have been existing in this planet—raised with catholic knowledge, scriptures, grew up with religious family—therefore, i always thought that women are only meant to be with a man as they are meant to be with a woman. women are meant to submit, to be whoever i am today, while men are meant to protect; to which i do not mind because being feminine is amazing, being feminine is special! it makes me unique, it makes me powerful. i wouldn’t mind being clingy to you, i wouldn’t mind cleaning the dishes for you, i wouldn’t mind being left alone at home for you to come back home with our children, but i always find myself in tears whenever i try to envision myself with a man.

you know this by now but it’s been a year since i assembled the puzzle pieces of my identity and finally figured things out like yes, i am lesbian and i have never been so happier to finally call myself one! i am sending all of my love to all the bisexual people; it is a label that i was once comfortable identifying myself with until i have felt that i know i could be something more than that. most of the time, i am super confident in my skin. sometimes, i feel like throwing up.

the moment i find a man attractive, i get so confused that i start to despise myself ruthlessly. a part of me is terrified, deeply terrified.

will i ever be happy with the decisions i make in my life if i keep on swaying back and forth like what i’m doing today? do i really like girls? am i just playing with their feelings the whole time? are they an experiment all along? am i an experiment? am i actually a lesbian when i end up finding certain men pretty? what if my sacrifices for being bold boils down to the drain and at the end of the day, i’ll settle down with a man? will i actually burn just because i am being who i really am? will i be that kind of a lesbian who will be despised for having this compulsion? maybe i do really like men? will all of this boil back down to me being a christian? will my parents tell me that they told me so and i’ll find myself crying, telling myself that they were right all along? am i meant to suffer from the constant loop that repeats all of these questions again? the moment i find a man attractive and try to envision myself leaning my head against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his; i can never see the same sparkle in my eyes when i love a woman. what am i? who am i, truly? does it ever get better?

this is my biggest fear. you could bring me cockroaches; the insects i always despised since i was a kid, you could take me to the tallest building since i am terrified of heights, but to constantly doubt who i really am and realize that i still haven’t figured it out yet is what would kill me.

an even less exhaustive list of femme literature

since a made of a list of butch lit, I thought it would be nice to make a list of femme writing by (mostly) femme authors as well. books I've read myself in bold; take the rest with a grain of salt. I'd really appreciate additions, especially of fiction!

fiction:

dykette by jenny fran davis

perfume and pain by anna dorn

trash by dorothy allison

all the pretty girls by chandra mayor

femme confidential by nairne holtz

bottle rocket hearts by zoe whittall

nonfiction:

brazen femme: queering feminity ed chloe brushwood rose and anna camilleri

femme: feminists, lesbians, and bad girls ed laura harris and elizabeth crocker

the femme mystique ed leslea newman

out of the closet and nothing to wear by leslea newman

fierce femmes and notorious liars by kai cheng thom

dirty river by leah lakshmi piepzna-samarasinha

s/he by minnie bruce pratt

naked in the promised land by lillian faderman

a restricted country by joan nestle

rust belt femme by raechel anne jolie

my dangerous desires by amber hollibaugh

odd girls and twilight lovers by lillian faderman

another mother tongue by judy grahn

boots of leather, slippers of gold by elizabeth lapovsky and madeline davis

the persistent desire ed joan nestle

persistence: all way butch and femme ed ivan coyote and zena sharman

articles/essays:

our own words by rosza daniel lang/levitsky in e-flux

high femme camp antics by jenny fran davis in la review of books

with gratitude and struggle by nan alamilla boyd in autostraddle

that time I went on a lesbian cruise and blew up my life by shannon keating in buzzfeed

femme-inism by paula austin in colonize this!

there’s something so refreshing dancing along to some songs, especially the ones that openly speak about how much they love women. it’s been two years since i found out that i’m a lesbian all along thanks to my sweet butch and my life has never felt so good—a confusion that is finally understood. i’ve talked to a couple of girls who thinks my sexuality is something that can only exist for pleasure or to replace men who broke their hearts. some of them has also used it for their past time, leaving me thinking that my worth only lies beneath their feet.

it feels so freeing; like a puzzle piece that you have been struggling to find all over the box. it could also be your favorite jewelry that you just couldn’t remember where you placed it. i have been looking for this comfort all along in being a woman and i’m so glad i get to claim this sweet moment by also being a lesbian! i’m so glad such talented and brave artists are also out there today, making silly little lesbian songs for me to sing along and maybe make out with my butch someday. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

only lesbians will ever find the courage to continuously flirt with another woman but NEVER the courage to admit abt their feelings (or in this case, her identity) and it’s so funny (and real.... and real.)

thinking about how the best case scenario that elphaba can imagine in the wizard and i is that finally someone will come along who will be able to change everything about her. even in her wildest dreams, she views that as her best option.

and then.

along comes galinda. who - after spending an entire night attempting to give her a makeover - settles on: ‘actually, you’re perfect just the way you are. i wouldn’t change a thing. except maybe to tuck a little piece of myself in with you, just there.’

and i just think that’s neat.

If love is what you need, a soldier I will be

are you allowed to love? i thought that was forbidden for a jedi

hello, tumblr! it’s nice to meet you. 💜

i am mary, i am currently 21 years old, i go with she/her, i’m asian, a neurodivergent femme lesbian, a libra, 5’3, and a femme4butch.

i deeply like spider-man and star wars, i like anything pastel—especially orange and baby pink, wearing converse, summer dresses, some adorable trinkets to put on my heart-shaped carabiner, and a couple of video games!

if there’s anything you’d like to know about me; i am always trying to grow my hair out because i keep on cutting it short and i swear that i will succeed this time! i wear prescription glasses like harry potter’s, i’m taken by the prettiest butch, and i’m currently reading ‘the last night at the telegraph club’ by malinda lo. 📖 there will be nsfw in this blog from time to time, please be wary before interacting. mentions, asks, and dms are very much welcome, let’s be friends!

── .✦

do not interact if:

minor, cishet men, racist, ableist, transphobic, xenophobic, a bigot, or if you’re a complete weirdo.