S, 30

I think the goal is to be confusing...ambiguity feels affirming to me...

⏎ interviews⏎

Q: What’s your name and age?

A: I'm S, 30 years old.

Q: What are your pronouns?

A: Any pronouns, including neopronouns.

Q: How would you describe your identity in your own words?
A: I consider myself butch. I would say butch, non-binary, trans. None of that order. It doesn't really matter. I think I strongly identify with all of those. It's more shifting depending on the day.

Q: What objects, aesthetics, or everyday practices are tied to your identity?
A: I think the classics of signaling — carabiners and all the cliché things where when you see someone on a train you’re like, “Oh, they’re another gay, they’re another butch.”

Q: Do you feel affirmed when you wear anything particular besides a carabiner?
A: I think trying to look like a greaser feels really affirming. Like the leather jacket, that kind of vibe. I don’t know why, it always just makes me really happy.

Q: What first drew you to the butch identity?
A: It’s really weird. I’ve been on a really long journey with it. When I first came out as transfemme, there was this expectation to be femme, and I never really connected with it. The first year and a half of transition was a lot of therapy around “I don’t want to do this, but I feel like I should.” I also had a lot of transfemme friends and hearing about their experiences, I realized I didn’t really relate to them. At the same time, I was really attracted to masculinity and other butches. Over time I started thinking, maybe I am butch.

Q: When did that realization happen?
A: Something clicked probably like a year ago. It’s pretty recent. 

Some people call me baby butch.

Q: How do people usually perceive you?
A: Most people that meet me think I’m a trans man. It’s kind of reverse passing. Sometimes people use he/him pronouns for me and my friends have to correct them. I actually like that confusion. I think the goal is to be confusing.

Q: Were there things that held you back from identifying as butch at first?
A: Yeah. There wasn’t that much representation of transmasc butches, especially hard butches with no degree of femme presentation. Trying to figure out what that meant while also understanding I was more non-binary was challenging.

Q: Can you describe your journey with queerness more broadly?
A: I grew up Orthodox Jewish and there wasn’t a lot of queer representation there. I never even saw a gay person growing up. My first friend who came out as gay did it in 12th grade, and before that he was in conversion therapy. I had no inkling I was queer. Then as I became less religious, I met more queer people. The less religious I became, the more queer my life became too.

Q: Around what age did you start leaving religion behind?
A: Probably around 22. It was a two or three year process before I was fully out of it.

Q: When did you begin transitioning?

A: I started medically transitioning about three years ago, and I was identifying as non-binary a little before that.

Q: Have there been moments where you questioned or redefined what butch meant to you?
A: Definitely. I struggled a lot with masculinity as a trans person. Even after identifying with butch, I still questioned whether it was internalized transphobia or something else pushing me there. I don’t think it is, but it’s still something I think about.

Q: Were there aspects of butchness you were drawn toward before identifying with it?
A: I always thought butches were really hot. I kept wondering, “Do I want to be them or do I want to sleep with them?” Once I unpacked that, I realized I was really attracted to masculinity in a queer way, outside of a cis straight framework.

Q: How has living in New York shaped your identity?
A: I think the internet helped more with researching butches, but New York gave me access to queer people and community. 

I grew up in Flatbush, so I’ve always been around queer people in some way.

Q: Are you involved in queer community events?
A: Yeah. I’ve been active in queer sports and community spaces. I joined a queer kickball pickup league in Prospect Park after I started transitioning because I was struggling to find community. That’s where I met one of the most important people in my life.

Q: Do you travel differently as a queer person?

A: Not especially, but there’s definitely a safety element. In queer spaces I like being seen as butch and androgynous and confusing. Outside of those spaces, I might lean more into being read as masculine because it feels safer.

Q: Do you think your presentation changes around family or work?
A: It used to. Earlier in transition I would try to hide parts of myself more. But now I don’t really cover up my tattoos or anything. Part of it is honestly a reaction against growing up religious — like a “fuck you” to all of that.

Q: Do you think New York’s political climate affects queer people?
A: Definitely. There’s more community here, more events, more visibility, more ways to get involved. That helps make queerness feel easier to live openly.

Q: How do other people’s perceptions of you affect your self-consciousness?
A: I really like when people are confused by me. I like being androgynous and difficult to categorize. It feels affirming. I don’t necessarily internalize people’s confusion negatively — I kind of enjoy the chaos of it.

Q: Do you generally feel safe moving through the world?
A: I feel safer than a lot of my trans friends do because I present very masculine. People either don’t question me or don’t want to say anything. A lot of my friends deal with harassment in ways I don’t.

Q: How does your identity interact with queer community spaces?
A: I’m mostly butch-for-butch, so I feel really drawn to other masculine or butch people. Most people in my life are queer or non-binary in some way. Going into straight spaces always feels like a culture shock after that.

Q: Are there tensions around masculinity within queer spaces?
A: Sometimes I worry about being read as a cis guy instead of queer or butch. That can feel non-affirming. I think I still want masculinity to feel rooted in queerness and community care rather than traditional masculinity.

Q: Is there an object you’d consider symbolic of yourself besides a carabiner?
A: I don’t know if I have a good answer for that. Maybe my tattoos.