Q: Can you introduce yourself?
A: Most people call me J. I use she/her pronouns. I don’t really consider myself butch or a stud — I identify more as masc presenting. People assume “stud” because I’m Black, but that label doesn’t fit me. I’ve always just been me. I was a tomboy growing up and never really grew out of it.

Q: How did your identity evolve over time?
A: My mom always tried to make me more feminine when I was younger. She’d put me in dresses, makeup — one time I literally woke up to her putting makeup on me before school because I refused to wear it. Eventually I decided to go to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, far from Memphis where I grew up, because I wanted freedom and space to figure myself out. Once I moved there, I started growing into myself more naturally.

I came out when I was 21 while I was at UTK. After college I joined the military and served for almost 11 years before being medically separated. Later my wife and I decided to move back to Knoxville because it felt familiar and safe compared to somewhere unknown.

Q: Why does the “stud” label not feel right for you?
A: To me, “stud” comes with a whole different persona and a lot of gender role expectations. I don’t want to participate in that. I don’t want to perform masculinity in a rigid way or recreate heterosexual dynamics inside queer relationships. I just want to exist as myself and dress how I dress.

Also, I don’t even think of myself as masculine enough to be a stud in the way some people define it. I’ve met people who identify as studs who are less masculine than me and vice versa, but for me personally the label just doesn’t feel accurate.

Q: What was it like being masc presenting in Tennessee?
A: There are definitely challenges. Even now, back in school doing prerequisites for physical therapy, I still get the double-takes in bathrooms — people trying to figure out if I belong there. When my wife and I travel, restroom situations are always something we think about. If I have to use the restroom somewhere unfamiliar, she’ll usually come with me so people understand I belong there instead of making assumptions.

There are places in Tennessee where I feel more cautious. If I’m in smaller towns, especially alone, I stick to public places because I don’t know how people are going to react to me. Some of that is because I’m masc presenting, and some of it is because I’m Black. You become very aware of how people look at you.

Q: Do you think Tennessee shaped your identity?
A: Honestly, not really. I think my family shaped me more than Tennessee itself. Most of my family is from Mississippi anyway, so if anything I feel “Mississippi country,” not Tennessee country. Tennessee is just the place I live.

Being Black in a majority-white area definitely shaped how I move through the world, though. You notice things. You learn to stay close to the people you trust and keep your circle small.

Q: Are there things that make you feel affirmed in your identity?
A: When I was more in shape, honestly it was my muscles. My broad shoulders. That physicality made me feel comfortable in myself. I’ve been dealing with depression lately, so I haven’t been working out the same way, but that used to be a huge part of how I felt grounded in who I was.

Q: How do you think other people perceive you?
A: At first people usually look at me like, “What is that?” Then they actually meet me and realize I’m just helpful and friendly. Everybody knows me as someone who will help if they need something. My neighbor literally brought me cookies and a thank-you card recently because I helped her out.

But I definitely know people make assumptions before they talk to me. In the military especially, I leaned into this tougher persona because women were boxed into stereotypes constantly — either a whore, a dyke, or a bitch. I became “the strong dyke,” basically. She-Hulking in the gym.

Q: How has the queer community in Knoxville changed over time for you?
A: Before the military, I was out all the time. I went to gay bars, played rugby, joined lesbian social groups. I was always around queer people. After the military, I became a lot more standoffish. Being stationed overseas trained me to be suspicious of strangers because if someone approached you, they usually wanted something.

Now I mostly stay home with my wife and our cats. I know queer people are still around in Knoxville — they absolutely are — but there’s less of a central community feeling than there used to be. There aren’t many gathering places anymore.

Q: Have politics changed the atmosphere for queer people where you live?
A: Definitely. Especially since Trump. I think queer people have become more hidden because people feel emboldened now. It’s not even just Trump himself — it’s the people who support him feeling like they can openly say hateful things without consequences.

I’ve watched people I knew completely change politically and socially. One woman I knew used to be this hardcore butch biker type and now she’s gone down this Christian nationalist path and became openly anti-trans. It’s bizarre to watch someone transform like that.

Q: How do gender expectations show up in queer relationships or interactions?
A: Some people still expect heteronormative roles — like masc people opening every door, paying for everything, acting like “the man.” I’m not into that. I’ll do nice things for my wife because I love her, not because I’m trying to perform masculinity.

That’s part of why labels like “stud” don’t work for me personally. I don’t want my relationships built around gender scripts.

Q: What do you hope younger queer people take away from seeing someone like you?
A: I want younger people to know it’s okay to just be themselves. You don’t have to force yourself into some category or expectation. The people who love you will love you for who you are. The people who don’t? Don’t keep them around.

Q: Outside of identity conversations, what’s important to you?
A: My cats. Fully. I’m team cats, not kids. We have four cats: Bernadette, Beau Alexander, Edgar DeWayne, and Zoey Michelle. Bernadette is tiny but runs the house.

My wife and I met through rugby. Technically she stalked me a little bit. She somehow learned my schedule and kept “accidentally” showing up everywhere I was — work, the gym, the library. Her rugby nickname became “Euro Creep” because she’s from the Czech Republic and absolutely committed to the bit.

We’ve been together 15 years now and married for 10. She’s my adventure partner.