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The Art of Being Butch
Butch is a Noun
by S. Bear Bergman
(Suspect Thoughts Press, 2006)
Reviewed by Jean Roberta
S. Bear Bergman is both a youngish (Generation X) genderbending performance artist and a gentleman of the old school. In a series of elegantly-written essays, ze has explored the concept of honorable butchness (or the character of a gentleman) unconnected to maleness. This book could be read as a queer, postmodern answer to older works on How to Be a Man.
In a moving dedication, Bear addresses hir "sons:"
"We want to pass things down. We want heirs, and if I cannot have heirs of blood then I want heirs of spirit; I want you, when you are grown, when I am gone, to have parts of me. This is the first thing, the handkerchief. In its way, it is emblematic of the butch heart--it is something you carry with you at all times for the express purpose of giving it away when it is needed."
In the opening section, "I Know What Butch Is" (and the parallel with art seems deliberate), the author wrestles with slippery definitions:
"First of all, butch is a noun. And an adjective. And a verb."
In a hilarious passage, the author approaches the intersection of chivalry and feminism:
[Butches are] "Gentlemen who . . hold your umbrella over you in the rain while the water drips down their sleeves. But not gentlemen if being a gentleman means imposing on the unsuspecting their sexist modes of acting out the cultural paradigm of the helplessness of women. Except if the unsuspecting are crying and need a handkerchief, or elderly and need a seat to sit down in, then it's all right. Probably."
In a chapter named "Fire the Copyeditor, or Possibly the Author: A Few Notes on Pronouns," the author introduces the reader to the gender-neutral pronouns ze (he/she) and hir (his/her).
In "Defending Identity," the author explains hir professional performance of gender as an art form:
"My identity, my complicated butch identity, this crazy identity that requires an hour, two charts and a graph to explain, is the commodity I use to make my living. I am an identity whore."
In "Where Butch Resides," the author describes hir identity in sensuous physical terms:
"Sometimes I think it's in my hands. They're big, you know, big boy paws, big enough to hold two glasses in each when I'm carrying them back to the table. . . Other days, I think it's in my shoulders. . They're lean-on shoulders, cry-on shoulders. . . Maybe in my hips, somewhere around my thighs, not in my cock or my cunt per se, but a near neighbor, a sexual organ all its own, something desirous and desired. My butchness engorges at the approach of an object of my desire, it leads the way and I follow, bringing along my butch behaviors all fed with the strength of that blood, those muscles, that possibility of my womb."
However, Bear is careful to point out that "butch" in itself is not a sexual orientation. There are (relatively) heterosexual butches like hirself (happily married to a femme) and faggot butches: those who desire their butch brothers. In "A Note to the Reader," the author warns:
"I left all the sex in. I have a great deal of respect for the power of sex and sexuality. Not just the power it has when it exists but the power it has when it is erased. I think that all of us have been punished for or with our sexuality in one way or another, and butches tend to get an extra big helping of this--both the punishment and the silence. For that reason, I chose to write one very explicit essay, to allow others to retain their eroticism, and to include them in the book."
In a piece on butch/femme courtship named "Dancing," the author gives advice:
"Gentlemen, open your arms, hold your elbows high, invite the lady into your embrace just so, welcome her but do not grasp her or collect her, merely make a space for her in your dance. Once you have a partner, take a small step forward to make sure you're both starting on the same foot, then a small step back to confirm it. Now is the time to be sure your partner is ready to move with you, not later." Even in the context of butch/femme flirting, however, the author warns that assumptions are unjustified. In an explicit chapter, "Getting Fucked," ze explains: "Butches are not supposed to like getting fucked. . . Butch sexuality is about focusing our attention outward, remaining composed and in control, serious and searching, calculating what twist or turn might bring the next scream, might wring the next increment of shuddering delight out of our lucky partners, who are naked and writhing and openmouthed on the bed, who are tearing up our sheets and loving us for it." Ze refers to cruel gossip among butches about who might not be a "real" butch because ze lets hirself be touched, fucked, driven beyond control. Bear's response to such backbiting is: "Bullshit." Ze goes on: " We're butches no matter what we like to do in bed; butchness is not defined by who does what to whom in bed, in the backseat, over the coffee table or anyplace else. We may do all of the above-named things; I certainly have come from giving a lover pleasure, but we do any number of other things, too, other acts both sacred and sexual, which is what it is any time a butch takes you into hir bed or follows you to yours." Most of the essays in this book convey the generosity of the emblematic handkerchief which keeps reappearing between longer sections. There are charming sections on the appeal of crisp white shirts and cuff-links, on the always-appreciated butch tradition of helping friends move by carrying heavy objects up and down stairs, of the influence of a responsible Jewish father as the original mensch in the author's life, of the crucial support of an extended family of blood relatives and fellow-tribesfolk. Each essay or meditation in this book is a little gem that can be read on its own, but reading the whole collection is more fun. The only important topic which seems glaringly absent (thinking of the possibilities of the author's womb) is childraising. Even for a book which is largely aimed at a GLBT audience, this seems like an important omission in an era when a large minority of queer couples (and singles) are raising children from former relationships, male/female sex between friends or strangers, artificial insemination, or adoption. How does a gentleman butch deal with actual (not only spiritual or cultural) offspring in a time when many het bio-men are deadbeat, absentee fathers? How can the influence of a hands-on biological father (see earlier reference) be adapted by a butch parent who is not male? An interested reader would like to know. One can only hope that there will be a sequel to this book. Bear's spin on the role of a gentleman would be hard for anyone to dislike, based as it is on compassion, helpfulness, strength and style rather than force, contempt, intimidation or snobbery. As reviewer Kate Bornstein suggests, this book should be required reading in any gender studies curriculum.
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