Soft Butch (Self Portrait)

If you've been following my art for a while, you may have noticed that I don't often draw myself in a serious context. I normally shy away from self portraits, because I never really know how to represent myself, or what facet of my identity to shine light on. However, in the past year, I finally know what I am. I've embraced it with arms wide open.

I am a butch.

I love a woman. I make breakfast for her when she's in our bed with sleepy eyes and blankets up to her shoulders. Gentle words exchanged between sips of French press coffee and orange slices. I cherish the lipstick kisses she leaves on my cheek when we're walking to the car. I hold the door open for her every chance I get. She's taller than I am- even taller in her stiletto heels- and I stand on my tippy toes to meet her mouth.

Regular days, I go bare-faced and in soft denim button-ups that I took from my father's closet when I was in high school. My pants are baggy and dusted with crumbs and bits of dried paint, and my shoes are slip-ons. My silhouette is ambiguous and I'm not much to look at, but I'm me. Simple, honest me.

In formal occasions, I go all out with the clothes I fantasized about when I was younger, except back then, they seemed like an impossible dreams. I have a beautiful suit jacket with suspenders and fitted pants, and a pair of dress shoes that make me feel like the classiest of 1920's mob bosses. I can't remember ever feeling this kind of confidence in a Sunday dress, or in the dolled-up face of a girl who wasn't me. I get to stand a little taller, I keep my hand on the small of my girlfriend's back when we glidedoen the sidewalk.

Sometimes, men stare. They look like confused babies, wondering why neither of us exist to please them. Women stare too, often at me. Maybe because they can't figure out where I fit in their boxes. Maybe because I've been the first one to present them with another way to be a woman.

Allowing myself to exist this way, to embrace this title, has been the most liberating thing I have ever done for my soul. It's given me peace, relief, warmth, softness.

So here is me, dressed to the nines in a field full of sunflowers, because my girl mentioned once that sunflowers and yellow remind her of me. It's a color I see everywhere now, symbolizing the tenderness I've found in myself since embracing who I am.