You know it’s ironic. My older brother is a total hetero-queen. The boots he wears have 3″ heels and he bought them because they click when he walks, he uses a hair iron, he wears ass tight jeans, he L-O-V-E-S fashion, oh, and he loves women. I know, I thought he was gay too, but au contraire. He’s just femme!

When I was in 6th grade I really wanted to play basketball with the rest of the “cool” girls in my class. But you know what my mother said? No. She was afraid that I would start walking and talking like a man…or a gay (I swear she must have known then!). So instead, I joined the cheerleading team. But I’m a cheerleader! (Pun definitely intended). Worry not, for as Alice Walker says, “you can’t keep a good woman down.” After putting in my time with the pom-poms, I ended up pursuing basketball in the 8th grade and went on to play varsity at the University of Chicago. And the cheerleaders even made up cheers for me…

I’m not so much scornful of my mother as I am a little sorry for the poor dear. According to her sweet soft simple heart, her beautiful daughter played basketball and turned gay (and she could have dated any boy she wanted!)… and the only finger her son ever lifted was “pinky-out” when holding a glass of wine. Now, what I’ve always marvelled at is that my brother’s nickname since forever has been Butch. But Butch is a Bitch? And I’m kind of a bitch too…but am I a bitch because I’m butch?

So I ask you, is butch a bitch…or is bitch the new butch?

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