The effects of feminism on butch-femme lesbian culture have been complex and transformative over the course of history.
At times the two have been in direct opposition of each other — a connection marred by hostility and scorn. At others, they have been each others’ lifeblood — incapable of existing to their full potential independent of the other.
Thanks to an ever-changing social landscape, butch-femme lesbian subculture has metamorphosed over time.
Given the risks associated with officially documenting queer history, many accounts of our culture have been committed to the minds and memories of those who lived it on the front line. The gaps in our historical tapestry are filled by oral storytelling.
So, I — a 33-year old femme who exclusively dates butch or masculine women — wanted to share my experience of a dynamic that is still largely misunderstood both from within and outside the LGBTQ+ community.
At best, it’ll foster greater understanding. It might help a parent understand their daughter and her lover better, or it might undo some (harmful) preconceived ideas that need to be done away with. At worst, it’ll just be my little contribution to a history that means so much to me and others like me.
Either way, I’m happy.
So let’s get to it, shall we?
Butch-femme dynamics first emerged visibly around the 1920s and 1930s.
Gender nonconformity was deeply stigmatised at the time, and, while they appeared to mimic heteronormative gender roles, butch-femmes were radical in their assertion of same-sex attraction, and their rebellion against the mainstream expectations associated with womanhood.
After WWII, they gained more visibility, particularly in working-class lesbian bar culture in the US’s more populated cities. They also found themselves not just socially but legally persecuted for their rejection of traditional social values.
During the second wave of feminism (1960s–1980s), many radical feminists became deeply critical of butch-femme dynamics. They saw these roles as mimicking heterosexual relationships and, therefore, perpetuating patriarchal norms.
The core critique was that butch-femme roles seemed to replicate traditional male-female dynamics, which many feminists believed reinforced oppressive gender hierarchies.
While we’ve come a considerable way since then, the vestiges of this time period can still be felt to this day.
Case in point: the title of this article.
If I had a dollar for every time I have been asked that question, I’d have, like, 60-something dollars. Not enough for a down payment on a duplex, of course, but certainly enough for the question to become annoying. Especially in the 21st century.
But that’s the thing, butch-femme couples also fall victim to the preconceptions that plague heterosexuals.
The idea that masculine = man, feminine = woman
As a femme, people’s general assumption upon meeting me is that I’m either:
straight
trying to pass as such
Despite these misconceptions, being femme is not about trying to ‘pass’ as straight. Far from it, actually. The femininity I embody is inherently non-conforming because it’s for the gaze of other women, not men.
Existing as a femme in today’s society affords me a certain security when compared to my butch counterparts, but only the type of security offered to heterosexual women in a patriarchy. In other words, not worth getting one’s hopes up for.
I’m free and even encouraged to flourish in my womanhood because it’s the palatable kind, but butch women cannot say the same.
Why?
Because butch women are constantly compared to men.
In fact, I’m willing to bet there isn’t a butch alive who hasn’t been compared to a man at least once in her lifetime.
Aesthetically-speaking, butches and men typically share a fair few commonalities — short haircuts, style of dress, a notable lack of makeup…
Some butches sport visible body hair and lower voices. Some bind their chests or wear minimising bras.
But even with these image-based similarities, there are still notable differences. For instance, a man in a suit and a woman in a suit project two very different energies.
Both may exude masculinity, sure, but female masculinity is a completely separate entity from the male.
A woman’s masculinity is subversive. It doesn’t need to be dominant in order to be respected, and it is overall much less threatening.
Where male masculinity denotes aggression and brawn, female masculinity offers security and comfort.
It’s where power and strength meet consideration, limitation, and careful curation. It’s where femininity is respected and not considered something which needs to be conquered or taken over.
Existing in a patriarchy allows masculine women the freedom to shape their masculinity to their liking and not model it off the oppressor.
In many cases, female masculinity offers protection from male masculinity.
To equate butches with men is to apply rigid parameters to the spectrum of womanhood. It denies women the freedom to exist in a way that stretches the binary.
Womanhood doesn’t stop being what it is just because it’s not shrouded in pink bows and frills.
Butch women don’t want to be men
Being butch isn’t a woman’s attempt at being a man or replacing a man in a relationship with a woman. It’s about navigating life as someone whose identity directly rejects society’s idea of what a woman should be.
My masculine girlfriend does not want to be a man. She never has. She was born a woman, she lives as one, and she has every intention of dying one, too.
She wears her womanhood as confidently and as spiritedly as any woman can.
This sometimes surprises those who first meet her, but it really shouldn’t. Her identity isn’t tethered to gender-coded clothing or the perceptions of others, but rather to just being a woman. As plain and as simple as that.
Does she have short hair? She sure does. She can wash, condition, and dry it in under 5 minutes whereas mine takes 3 working days and 5 Hail Marys just to detangle.
Does she shop in the men’s section? Almost exclusively. Some items can be a struggle thanks to the curvature of her body, but there’s nothing a little tailoring can’t fix.
Is she the breadwinner in our relationship? Yes, sir. Her income is roughly double mine, thanks to the USA and Spain occupying opposite ends of the salarial spectrum.
But does she believe in masculine/feminine domestic duties? No. She cooks, cleans, and looks after Fenix (my cat.) She enjoys grilling in the summer, weeps over the deaths of her favourite fictional characters, and is moved by the kindness of humanity.
She wears triangle bikinis to the pool and uses my body lotion sometimes. She shops for slacks and button downs and only uses a barber, but goes on shopping trips with her girly friends and loves a strawberry daiquiri.
Being with her is nothing like being with a man.
Because, when a woman dates a man, there’s an inherent gender-related blueprint already in place. Of course, it’s possible for straight couples to deviate from the norm, but it’s largely uncommon — after all, thousands of years’ worth of social conditioning are hard to shake.
And, when a butch-femme couple are spotted together, we also fall victim to these same assumptions:
The butch brings home the bacon thanks to an honest, blue-collar job — thatching cottage roofs or farming salmon, perhaps — while the femme stays home pruning her rose garden in a frilly apron and making pie crust from scratch.
In some cases, this is accurate. But it’s based less on heteronormative expectation and more on natural aptitude and affinity.
Put it this way: if it were up to me to chop firewood to heat our home, scientists would discover our perfectly-preserved bodies frozen to our armchairs 100 years from now.
So, luckily I have my love for tasks like that.
As feminism continued evolving in the 1980s and 1990s, particularly with the advent of queer theory and intersectionality, the feminist critique of butch-femme culture started to shift. New understandings of gender, power, and identity led to a reevaluation of butch-femme dynamics, focusing on their potential to be empowering rather than merely imitative of heterosexual roles.
Scholars like Judith Butler introduced the concept of gender as a performative construct implemented through repeated action.
…people are, consciously or not, citing conventions of gender when they claim to be expressing their own interior reality or even when they say they are creating themselves anew…
When we are “girled”, we are entered into a realm of girldom that has been built up over a long time — a series of conventions, sometimes conflicting, that establish girlness within society.
Perspectives such as this allowed for a reevaluation of butch-femme dynamics as deliberate performances that challenge binary gender norms, as opposed to reinforcing them. Thus, butch and femme identities were seen as displays of queer resistance to societal expectations of female self-expression.
The butch-femme dynamic will always be innately non-conforming because it’s composed of two women. So, no matter how much outward appearances may cloud the judgement of those speculating, it’s very likely that things look wildly different from people’s preconceptions behind closed doors.
While our identity has gone through the feminist wringer over the years, it feels good to be back on the right side of the fight for women’s freedom.
We femmes are as integral a part of women’s liberation as any other woman. Butches are to men what hot dogs are to sandwiches — comparable to a degree, but, at the end of the day, not the same thing.
After all, a dress shirt and Old Spice do not a man make any more than a purse and a skirt make a woman.
Just ask a Scotsman if you don’t believe me.
Thank you very much for reading! If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to leave them below.
If you enjoyed this read and are feeling generous, please consider buying me a coffee as a token of your appreciation. I will send you positive vibes with every single sip. ☕🌸
© 2025 Natalie S. Ohio. All rights reserved.
Share this post