Is Butch a Bad Word?

I found an article recently that reported how a poster advertising a gay and lesbian film festival in upstate New York got taken down from a public bulletin board because six employees complained that some of the titles were offensive. What was so offensive? Well, for one - Butch Jamie. The other films cited were Out at the Wedding (no idea why) and Itty Bitty Titty Committee (ah yes, titties. Gets them every time.) As one blog wrote - "it's questionable whether it was homophobia at play or just extreme lameness."

After the poster got taken down, gay activists got involved. As a result, the poster was then put back up but with certain words blacked out. It was a compromise of sorts, between freedom of speech and censorship. And I wonder - was "Butch" blacked out? No, it couldn't have been. Could it?

It's a minor incident - hardly worth getting upset over, but it's interesting to reflect on. I identify as a butch woman, many of my friends identify as butch, I make movies starring butch characters, and I probably say, read, write, or at least think about the word butch everyday. It's such a part of me and my world that I don't even think twice about it. But it didn't always used to be that way.

When I first moved to L.A. after college, I was 22 and well - it wasn't that long ago, but I was really young. The world somehow seemed new to me, and in a lot of ways it was. When you're in school, you're somehow taken care of. You have set goals, set priorities, built-in friends, teachers who are supposed to encourage and inspire you, help bring out your best and develop your abilities. You have authority figures who often strive to make everyone feel comfortable, safe, respected, and well cared for. You're given a lot of attention, and sometimes a lot of praise and recognition.

Then when you're out of school it's you who needs to start filling those roles of encouraging yourself, developing yourself, striving to make yourself feel comfortable and well cared for. You are for the first time, really on your own. No one really cares whether you're "on track" or "falling behind." Your boss doesn't care if you get enough attention or if you're growing and developing to the best of your ability. And no one really cares if you feel comfortable. Sure, there are some legal issues with sexual harassment and what not, but when it comes down to it, people generally don't consider your comfort something to be concerned with.

But for some reason, I did seem to be concerned with making other people feel comfortable. I seemed to be concerned with making other people feel comfortable with me, even though apparently, I wasn't comfortable with myself. I spent my college years being the biggest, baddest, butchest mofo that ever walked the halls (even if I did giggle like a girl). But in the first nine or so months that I was in L.A., I pretty much femmed it up. I didn't wear make-up or anything like that, but I did modify my wardrobe (and started using the word wardrobe). I worked as a receptionist for awhile at an editing facility, then as a client services representative at a post production house. I figured that especially since I worked with the public, it was somehow unacceptable for me to look butch. I was somehow unacceptable.

My clothing choices ended up not being just for work. It all started in the spirit of professionalism, but then it creeped into other areas of my life as well - when I went out to dinner, went to the movies, etc. It seemed easier to dress that way than to deal with people calling me "sir" or freaking out when they saw me in the women's restroom. So big deal, you might say. You dressed a little femme; so what? Well yeah - so what. Except I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin and in my own life. I felt I had to pretend to be somebody else in order not to offend people by my presence.

Then I worked with a butch lesbian at one of my jobs. She also worked with clients, but she dressed as her usual butch self. At first I was in awe of her - that she could wear that to work and nobody thought twice about it. But I figured - if she could do it, I could do it. So I started dressing the way I wanted to, and I started feeling more confident about who I was. And that was that.

Looking back, it reminds me of something I read in a book recently. It said "In your life, other people will see their own possibilities." It's interesting. We never really know the effect we have over the other people we meet and know in our lives, but the truth is - sometimes the simplest act of living an honest life inspires someone else to do the same.

Maybe the word "Butch" was blacked out on the poster. But it isn't in my life, in my films, and in my characters. I don't usually think about what it means for Jamie to be butch, but when I think about having that part taken away from her, I realize how important it is. That part of her - that part in all of us, whatever it may be, that needs to be embraced in order to feel comfortable with who we are. Ultimately, it's about putting our ideas about ourselves before other people's ideas about us. It's about living a life of honesty and truth where other people may be able to see their own possibilities.