Welcome to our new web series InQueery, where we delve into the his, er, themstory of our favorite queer words. In this episode, Allison Graham of She Does Him — a fashion blog focused on menswear for women — examines the origins and history of the term “butch.” The word has a complex backstory, and the video takes us on a journey from the term’s burgeoning popularity throughout the 1940s, to its association with working class masculine-of-center lesbians in the 1970s, to its current usage. As with many LGBTQ+ terms, there are ongoing debates about who gets to use and claim the word “butch” to describe themselves. Check out the full video, and the script below, to learn more about how the word has evolved over time.
From its emergence among working-class lesbian bar culture to its resurgence in the 1990s, the word “butch” has had a hidden history. While its exact origins are unknown, “butch” is still an empowering word for many. So, how much do you really know about the history of the word “butch”?
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “butch” means a “lesbian of masculine appearance or behavior.”
At the turn of the 20th century, the word “butch” meant “tough kid” or referred to a men’s haircut.
It surfaced as a term used among women who identified as lesbians in the 1940s, but historians and scholars have struggled to identify exactly how or when it entered the queer lexicon.
Before “butch” became a term used by lesbians, there were other terms in the 1920s that described masculinity among queer women.
According to the historian Lillian Faderman,“bull dagger” and “bull dyke” came out of the Black lesbian subculture of Harlem, where there were “mama” and “papa” relationships that looked like butch-femme partnerships. Performer Gladys Bentley epitomized this style with her men’s hats, ties and jackets. Women in same-sex relationships at this time didn’t yet use the word “lesbian” to describe themselves.
Prison slang introduced the terms “daddy,” “husband,” and “top sargeant” into the working class lesbian subculture of the 1930s.
Pants became a distinctive queer style in the 1940s, with hundreds of thousands of women donning utilitarian clothing to work in factories because of the war. And with migration to the cities, bars that specifically cater to these women can thrive. It’s at this time that “butch” materialized as an underground term used by working-class women, as well as gay men to describe masculinity in their own communities.
But, more than “masculine lesbian,” what is the definition of “butch”? Writers have questioned what makes a butch woman in particular: Is it her style, what she does in bed, or who she’s attracted to? And does she have to identify as a butch to be a butch?
Looking back on this era, scholar Gayle Rubin wrote that “‘butches’ identify primarily as masculine or prefer masculine signals, personal appearance, and styles.” This identity thrived in nightlife. “Are you butch or femme?” was a question that the Lesbian Herstory Archives founder Joan Nestle recalls being asked as soon as she would walk into a bar. Everyone was a butch or a femme at the time, and if you weren’t, you were called a “kiki.”
Butches (and femmes) faced criticism from middle and upper class lesbians who felt that they replicated heterosexual relationships. The first lesbian organization, the Daughters of Bilitis, formed in 1955 and pressured butches to appear more feminine.
The queer people who didn’t want to play by middle class rules rebelled. In 1969, a handful of butch lesbians participated in the Stonewall Riots. Yet, a new generation of young, political, and college-educated lesbians developed in the years that followed.
The rise of feminism on college campuses left out working-class bar dykes — and butches were even considered “politically incorrect” by lesbian feminists in the 1970s. They were pushed to the margins.
It didn’t stay that way for long. “Butch” and “femme” made a comeback in the 1980s as sexually empowering terms, and not just for working class women. There were “butch bottoms” and “femme tops” who used the terms for their own pleasure.
In the ballroom scene, queer people of color used the term in categories that measured masculinity, like “butch realness” or “butch queen.”
Tony Kushner’s landmark 1991 play about these years, Angels In America, dubbed Joe Pitt — a closeted gay “Marlboro man” — a “mega-butch,” in contrast to the play’s femme protagonists. While butches among gay men are often seen as desirable, they were also viewed with suspicion as hiding their gay identities.
A landmark novel for butch lesbian representation was Leslie Feinberg’s Stone Butch Blues, published in 1993, about a working-class butch lesbian who comes of age in bars, faces homophobic violence, and explores the territory between butch and trans identity.
The “stone butch” was an epitome of the butch identity; a lesbian who did not let her partner touch her sexually.
Butch lesbians and trans folks alike saw a reflection of themselves in Feinberg’s work. Butch has been connected to trans identities, and some who identified as butch women went on to identify as trans men or transmasculine.
That same year, butch visibility got even louder when butch singer k.d. lang was on the cover of Vanity Fair, getting a shave by Cindy Crawford. “Dykes To Watch Out For,” “The Drag King Book,” and other publications created a culture where there is finally “proof” of butches.
The 2000s made way for more mainstream butch visibility. Ellen DeGeneres debuted her talk show after coming out on her sitcom less than a decade before. With sneakers and blazers, she was the quintessential soft butch.
The hit Netflix show Orange Is The New Black introduced a hard butch in 2013 that was (and is) perhaps the first of her kind on screen. Lea Delaria plays the role of Big Boo, with “butch” tattooed on her arm. As a hilarious and sexual character, she defies stereotypes.
With the popularity of online dating, gay men continue to have their own butch/femme dynamics and are criticized for giving “masc” guys more attention.
While “butch” remains a word that’s primarily used among lesbians, it’s also used by nonbinary and genderqueer folks. Some communities have embraced other terms for masculinity, like “stud” and “tomboy,” while “masc” is used more widely by gay men and trans people.
But, “butch” has resisted being relinquished to the past.
The 2015 musical Fun Home, based on Alison Bechdel’s memoir, is the first musical on Broadway with a butch lesbian protagonist. It’s also famous for the stirring ballad “Ring of Keys,” where a young Allison first recognizes her own identity as she notices a masculine delivery woman and her humongous ring of keys. Reflecting on the memory, Allison calls that woman an “old school butch.”
Whether old or new school, it looks like butches are here to stay.
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