There has been a great deal of discussion around the water coolers called message boards and chat groups pertaining to Butch/Femme, roles or no roles, labels versus no labels.  Some questions and/or responses were viewed by some as acts of aggression.  Why?  Because of ignorance, judgment, intolerance and condemnation of anything different than what we know, what we were taught, or believe. 

In the Publisher’s Letter on Swirl, Nakia Roberson states:

I am always asked where did you meet the Bachelorettes? Then, do these women go out, I’ve never seen them before? My answer to this is simply travel outside of your circle, stop recycling your friends’ girlfriends, or waiting for them to bring in the new recruits.

This lifestyle will flourish when, we as women, stop playing high school games and remove ourselves from the dysfunctional pre-conditioning and judgments of Sorority life. We are all created to do the same things love, prosper, live, and die. The only difference is the roads we take. And if you arrive before your sister, you didn’t win. You made a path for her to find her way. Watch the growth of the circle.

I applaud her statement and encourage women to understand, explore, and accept every woman and her differences whether she claims herself butch, femme, neither of the above, kiki, pillow princess, whatever.  Get out of the rut that will have you believe your group, your circle, your beliefs are all there is and all that matters.  Don’t condemn or judge someone because they are different or may not believe as you do.  Many women who visit FemmeNoir may or may not be OUT, some are bisexual, others are simply exploring their feelings and there are those who are just curious. 

I am thankful for having known Christine Tripp who was patient enough with me to educate me as I was patient enough with her to educate her.  We came from two very different worlds.  I came from what I termed the Secret Society of Lesbians, the women you may never see out at the clubs, political meetings, or at gay and lesbian anything.  Christine was an out lesbian who did attend these events and meetings.  In the beginning, we were both guilty of condemning one another on our differences and fortunately, we later came to a place of understanding. 

In the beginning, Christine thought women like me were (more labels) lipstick lesbians, wannabe lesbians, closeted lesbians, etc.  Her reality created these labels for women like me and I aggressively resented the labels she presented to me.  I did not wear lipstick all of the time, I've lived most of my life by definition as a lesbian, and I wanted to be out but, I was never fully accepted in many of the OUT lesbian venues thus, I had no way of coming out of my closet by her definition.  Christine sat in a privileged position as an OUT lesbian and felt very self-righteous in her labeling women she neither knew nor understood.  What we don't understand we fear and what we fear we attack.  The fear is, by getting to know me she might find her judgment about me wrong and she may have feared being wrong.  If she embraced me, her peers may attack her for doing so and she didn’t want that so instead, she continued to attack me and others like me. 

I thought butch/femme, marriages, and other such things were nothing more than role playing in an attempt to emulate the heterosexual community.  My experience and exposure to butch women were those women who had been in and out of jails or prisons, women who pimped other women and the violent types who were always known for cutting, stabbing, or beating the women in their lives.  Then there was the misinformation, handed to me by my peers, that those who were into roles were women from low-income environments.  I sat in my privileged position as a member of the Secret Society condemning and judging women I neither knew nor understood and felt very self-righteous in my labeling.  Again, what we don't understand we fear and what we fear we attack.  The fear for me was, if I get to know these women, I may find my judgment about them wrong and I fear being wrong.  If I embrace them, my peers may attack me and I don’t want that so instead, I'll continue to attack. 

Both sides of our equation were wrong and thankfully, by breaking down our prejudices and opening the lines of communication, we got a better understanding of one another.  Neither one of us realized how deep seated our prejudices were until we started to unravel them and discuss them one by one.  We all may have had one bad experience that puts us in the once burned, twice shy column, but not everyone is like the one bad experience we had. 

Christine introduced me to a doctor who identified as butch, who was never in jail or prison, was not a pimp, and was not on drugs.  I introduced Christine to a friend of mine who is an attorney.  Christine found a woman much like herself.  My friend didn't hide the photos all over her house of her lover who died many years ago.  Christine also missed the obvious painting of Sappho and her nymphs on the wall primarily because Christine looked at my friend and assumed she was straight.  Fortunately, Christine and I shattered a number of stereotypes we developed over the years.   Hardened stereotypical beliefs are sometimes equally hard to kill.

Christine and I went to a club one evening and in walked a very attractive young woman with an equally attractive black man.  Christine and I had different assumptions about what we saw.  Neither one of us ever discovered the truth behind this man and woman but, what was most significant is our differing observations were based on our personal realities.  Christine assumed the man with the woman was her boyfriend and they were looking for another woman to include in a ménage-au-trois.  My assumption, however, was this woman came to the club, with her gay male friend, because she wanted to go to an all lesbian club/bar and asked a gay male friend to escort her.   This was my experience and something I used to do.

I used to go out with my gay male friends because they knew where certain parties were for women.  They would ask around on our behalf and take those of us who were new to the life to these establishments.  Initially, we assumed we could go to parties with our gay male friends because we escorted them and were accepted at the gay clubs.  I believe the men assumed we were fag hags and soon forgot about us and paid attention to the men instead. 

The same did not hold true in the lesbian community.  Our male friends escorting us created tension.  If the man was not known or obviously gay in some way, the women behaved in accordance with Christine’s beliefs.  We were not talked to, no one asked us to dance, and we certainly didn't know what to do.  If our male friends stayed with us, they were the only ones who danced with us.  If the men walked away fearing their presence was somehow interfering, we were still left alone and often standing in the center of the floor, with a host of women around us, and no one acknowledging our presence or existence.  This is my reality and my experience. 

When Christine and I left the club that night, this woman was standing alone occupying a space no one dared enter.  Her hands were folded across the front of her body as she stood there staring at her male friend who was now outside of the club.  I'm sure she left and I'm sure he probably asked her what she did wrong.  He probably had one of those conversations with her as I had with a number of my gay friends: did anyone talk to you?  No.  What did you do?  Nothing.  Maybe you need to loosen up some.  How?  I don't know, I noticed no one else was dressed like you, maybe you need to dress it down some.  Dress it down how?  I don't know, wear pants.  Okay and then what?  Unfortunately, it becomes your fault. 

There are several ways a woman can come out, particularly after an experience like the one above.  One way is to fall upon the sword, feel worse about yourself and take on some addiction like alcohol, drugs, or some form of self hatred as you make your foray into the lesbian community.  Go places you hate to go so you can be seen everywhere so people will know you as a lesbian.  Go home so drunk or high you don't know how you got home.  Sleep with as many women as you can so you can to increase the number of knots in your lesbian score card so folks will know you're a lesbian.  Talk crap with a number of women while you're drunk or high, some of whom you would never talk to were you sober, in order to be seen as a lesbian.  This was also my reality as I tried to break from what I considered closeted lesbians to become more out.  I am a recovering alcoholic who has also experimented with a number of drugs. 

There are other ways as well.  My initial foray into the life happened because I hit the gaydar of one of those lesbians in the Secret Society who was quite bold.  The woman I met was a teacher at my school.  These women can be met at the perfume counter at your favorite store, the market where you shop, a parking lot, or sitting next to you at a stoplight or on the bus.  She will give you a glance from across the way with smiling eyes.  If you return the smile and/or glance, she'll approach and will engage you in small talk or light conversation.  For the uninitiated, her body language and glance is a dead giveaway.  Straight women know instinctively the ulterior motives of these women.  These women are relentless and will attempt to pick up a woman in plain view, in broad daylight, and they don't care who is looking.  She will attempt to get your number, you may go out for lunch or dinner, she will question you about your thoughts on lesbians, and she may invite you to a private party where you will meet other women like her who will accept you unconditionally.  They don’t need a particular club, a party, a gay pride event, to meet another woman.  They will approach you in the same way a man will approach a woman they like.  If you ain’t interested, they move on.  I joke with some of my straight friends and tell them if they’re approached, get the number and give it to me.  When it actually happens, they forget to get the number.

Other women may meet women by participating in gay and lesbian or political organizations and through their acquaintances in these organizations or activities, come out as lesbians.  They do this without stepping foot in a lesbian club or having any contact with the Secret Society.  I did not have this experience.  If there was a lesbian and gay organization at my college, it was primarily White and probably racist.  Much of what I experienced with White lesbians was overt racism.  I have since met many White lesbians who were not racists; they may have been ignorant, but not racist.  My only experience with out Black lesbians was through a rap group where I was summarily dismissed because of my suit, my permed hair, my high heels, and my stockings.  I have since learned this is not true of all out Black lesbians.  This was my reality then.  This is what I experienced and to some degree, what I continue to experience today. 

There are a number of ways a woman can come into “the life” and no one way is better than the other.  What is true of all?  We are lesbians.  We are women who love other women.  This is at the core of who we are.  If we come in through doors one, two, three or twelve, we may neither know nor understand the different languages, titles, roles and/or labels of that community.  We need tolerance, understanding and education.  We need less fear, judgment and condemnation. 

In the year since Christine’s death, I have not heard from many of her friends.  Oh, I’ve received invitations to events and parties, a few emails, but little or no conversation.  I could not or did not attend the events or parties I was invited to because I am, quite frankly, missing Christine and I relied on her presence in order to have some semblance of acceptance.  I cannot judge her friends or be angry, hurt or disappointed with them for not calling or talking to me.  When I thought about it, I realized why would they want to have anything to do with me?  Christine’s friends were either butch or femme and they proudly embrace who they are.  Why deal with someone who is still trying to understand?  My quest for understanding means I must profess my ignorance and that profession of ignorance may cause some to interpret my words as an act of aggression. 

I have now come full circle and my friends today are some of the women I knew many years ago in the former Secret Society of Lesbians.  I say former members because of my relationship with Christine and the bridge called our backs.  They now seek to find someone like Christine in their lives.  To them, Christine has become the greatest woman who ever lived.  Why?  Because Christine turned her head in the opposite of fear and talked to me, accepted me, and embraced me.  She looked for understanding and did not criticize or judge me.  She shattered many of the stereotypical images I held hard and fast as I shattered some of hers.  If I found myself sitting and looking stupid before her or she with me, we did not revel in the other’s pain or pour salt in the other’s wounds.  Neither one of us laughed at the other’s apparent ignorance or dismiss our feelings out of hand.  If I did say or believe something she felt I did not get, she could put some words together that would cut me to the core.  Once I stepped away to adequately lick my wounds, I would return and admit my error and we would start again.  She did not dismiss or sentence me to one hundred forevers away from her because of a single misplaced or misstated word. 

God knew what he was doing when he sent me to Christine.  First, there was Mary Jo who picked me up on her gaydar.  Unfortunately, she was stifled by her own humanity and fear of saying something wrong to a Black woman and then fearful still she might be wrong about me.  She did take me around to meet her lesbian friends, old and young and she introduced me to different books in an attempt to see if I’d have some reservations about them.  Finally, as we neared the end of our time together, she pushed and encouraged me by telling me “life is too short, be yourself, and don’t worry about what others say about you.”  Her words never addressed a particular subject, I only knew her words had some hidden meaning and were meant for me to simply hear them.  First, Mary Jo taught me all White lesbians are not racists.  Second, Mary Jo put me on the path of final acceptance of who I am.  Third, Mary Jo prepared the way for meeting Christine who then took me to school. 

I now know God will pierce the world with his finger, if no one else is available, to set things in motion to bring about the understanding needed to know how much you are loved.  It does not matter who you love, just that you love.  I cannot be mad at Christine’s friends because they very well may have been bound and gagged this past year by God, in order for me to return to square one, the place where I began, to make my own decisions now, or maybe, to educate some of my old friends whom I converse with now. 

During these months of Black Gay pride, watch that your pride does not lead you down the slippery slope of prejudice.  Large numbers of men and women attend Pride events; many of these will not attend the Black Gay & Lesbian Leadership Forum’s conference or did not attend Zuna’s National Black Lesbian Conference.  I will assume, because I’ve been there done that myself, there will be more than a few folks standing off with others and talking about some of the folks at the Black Pride events.  “I thought we were over that by now.”  “Why does she want to look like a man?”  “What are two femmes doing together?”  “They both look butch to me.”  “She ain’t no lesbian, she’s just out here to get her freak on.”  Watch that your pride does not lead you down the path of prejudice.  As Don Miquel Ruiz says in “The Four Agreements” assume nothing, take nothing personally, be impeccable with your word and always strive to be the best you can be.  I have had to eat a lot of humble pie.  It doesn’t hurt, it tastes pretty good and I’m a better person for having done so.

Unconditional love requires that I love you no matter what.  I love everything about you.  Most importantly, I accept everything that is you.  For this is the essence of you and I don’t want to think about changing anything because then it would not be you.

Forgive me if I have caused you pain and suffering in this relationship.  I had no intent to cause you pain or heartache.  I only want the best for you.  As I want the best for myself.  That’s why I felt so much love for you, because you have the ethics, the morals, the standards of life that I admire and try to live for myself.  I have learned a lot from you over the years.  Your age has nothing to do with anything.  We can learn from a child – even Destiny.  Your thoughts have stimulated my mind and caused me to think about things in a different way. You have been a reflection for me to look at.

I love your thirst for knowledge.  The way you research and research to get a real good understanding of the subject matter for which you want to learn about.

I hope I have not rambled too much writing this to you.  I needed to say all that was on my mind and clear the pain I feel in my heart and throat, all over my body for that fact.  I hope that we can keep the level of friendship that we have developed over the few years that we have known each other.  I hope that this friendship grows more and more.

Thanks for giving me you to experience and love.

This is part of Christine’s last letter to me written January 14, 2000.  She never sent it and I didn’t see it until two weeks after her death in June 2002.  She wrote it two weeks or so after New Year’s when I turned to her and asked “when are you going to talk to me?”   And the weekend after she and I attended an event where some friends of mine were in attendance.  After the event, while on the elevator to the car, one of my friends turned to me and started talking.  Christine interjected something and the woman looked at Christine, became visibly uncomfortable, started talking in code and ended the conversation.  We got off the elevator, walked in silence to the car and when we got in Christine asked “do I look like a lesbian to you?”  I told her if she was talking about my friend, “I think she’s seen you somewhere or knows you from somewhere.”  She went on to say “I now know how you feel when you’re with my friends.”   Christine had to be in the position of outsider before she could understand what I had been feeling all along.  That day marked the beginning of understanding for both of us.  I can’t say too little too late; no, it happened precisely when it was supposed to happen.