I’ve already talked a little about the word queer and how I identify with it. I love being queer. It can mean anything, so long as it’s out of the ordinary, not what’s expected, not what’s supposedly “normal”. It’s open enough that it doesn’t have to put me in a box according to whom I might or might not find attractive (straight? hell no! lesbian? not entirely. bisexual? binary systems = evil. pansexual? no one knows what the hell it means) — instead I can just be me.

But the other word I love is “dyke”.

Dyke is not about what box other people can put you in. It’s not a convenient label to allow other people to tell you who you are or should be. Dyke is an attitude. Dykeness is a state of mind, a way of life, a woman who likes women and won’t take shit about it from anyone.

A dyke is a woman who knows she doesn’t need a man to be complete. A dyke is a woman who, confronted with the idea that she needs to dress, talk, act a certain way in order to land Mr. Perfect, Prince Charming, just laughs out loud and walks away. A dyke knows she doesn’t have to do anything to impress anyone, but certainly not guys. She dresses how she wants because she wants to, not because it’s supposed to make men want her. She’ll wear what makes her comfortable, whether that’s high heels and a skirt or lumberjack plaid and tennis shoes. She’ll act without restraint, sometimes in situations where such behavior might not be appropriate, because she doesn’t care if people think she’s ladylike, demure enough, good enough to find a man to marry her. She is who she is because that’s who she is, not because a man made her that way.

This isn’t to say straight women let men dictate their lives, but when they don’t necessarily need to be in the picture, it’s so much easier to laugh off their attempts at control. Why worry what any man thinks? You don’t need him. Who wants most straight men, anyway? There’s so much more to life than pleasing them. A dyke doesn’t need to make men like her, because a dyke is a woman who loves women.

That’s the other thing — a dyke loves women. Really loves. The way some straight men say they do, but they don’t mean it, they don’t understand what it’s really like to love a woman because they aren’t one. It’s not the same at all. There a very few men who can truly adore a woman the way another woman can, really understanding, really appreciating her, really taking her in, because a woman knows. A woman knows what other women’s lives are like, what we are when you tear the patriarchy down, when you take away the social conditioning and the expectations and all the other bullshit. Only a woman is capable of really beginning to know what another woman is really like, beneath it all. Oh, men can try, and it’s admirable of them really, but I don’t know if it’s really possible for them to truly empathize, no matter how supportive they are.

And that’s what “dyke” means to me. That’s why I like to call myself a dyke, even if I’m not technically just a lesbian, because I’m a woman who loves women and knows I don’t need a man and, hell, doesn’t much care about landing one. I’m queer. I’m a dyke. Everyone else can just get the hell used to it.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 25th, 2006 at 11:33 am and is filed under Gender and Sex, Queer Issues, Sexuality.