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"I was a Jewish femme, following in the paths of Joan Nestle and my mother. With my curly black hair and unmistakably femme hourglass figure, I was coming out loud and proud. Despite my newfound sense of joy and exuberance as a Jewish femme, I heard a fair amount of anti-femme sentiment from lots of dykes. As a femme, I am often invisible as a lesbian. I love wearing lipstick and lingerie. I am not passing. Passing implies choice, the intent to be invisible. Butch lesbians are on the front lines of gay culture as out queers, challenging traditional notions of gender and desire. Butches are victims of homophobia and sexism on a daily basis. They are wrongfully accused of looking like, acting like, or wanting to be men. They are harassed and ostracized, especially if they are also members of other oppressed groups. Femmes bear the brunt of homophobia and sexism in a different way. We are bombarded with straight men's sexual harassment and violence. We are made invisible by others, including other lesbians. For both femmes and butches, our strength has helped us survive."

"I am a femme. I pined for women for more than a decade following that visit to New Orleans, agonizing for months at a time until finally I would write in my journal, "I think I'm a L-E-S...," only to begin the cycle again, and again. Some of my fears were the usual what-does-it-mean-to-be-a-lesbian kind, generated by a homophobic society. I also had another kind of fear, which was that being a lesbian meant giving up my flamboyance and my love of changing myself through makeup and costume. I was afraid that I would have to wear army surplus pants for the rest of my life. And I knew fucking was important to me. If tribadism was controversial (as it was in the seventies), would I ever have wild, passionate sex again? That was quite a conflict. All my fantasies were about women, but it seemed as though being with women meant leaving my passions behind. It was made clear to me by the lesbian community that my conventionally pretty features and hourglass figure were not considered lesbian enough (being pretty wasn't politically correct). And society told me I was too pretty to be a lesbian. So was I judged, based on the same societal norms, by both groups. Being femme isn't about what I'm wearing, although it can be. I don't understand why being a lesbian who wears a three-piece suit is considered a social radical, while a lesbian who wears a dress, her sexuality up-front yet unavailable to the heterosexual norm, is not. Why is that only men get to be flamboyant in order to be considered socially radical? From my perspective that is letting men have all the fun again."

"Today, I am wearing my hair long and permed into full curls around my face, tying it up in sheer, silken scarves. I often choose to be late for a date rather than go out feeling "unfinished," which some days means a little powder and Chap Stick and other days means a total makeover. I wear long silk shirts and fluffy sweaters when I want, and regard the word pretty as a compliment again. Still, I know I am regarded as a failure and even a traitor by many in this [lesbian] club because I suffer occasional self-recrimination for being a size sixteen instead of a size six, because I enjoy wearing miniskirts and stockings, because I apparently care about and conform to the opinions of the "wrong" people (people in that other world who label us unacceptable or unfit). They say I am selling out, catering to patriarchy, being codependent on my mother and her opinions. Choose your descriptors, choose your chains. Too often, the saleswomen of the so-called freedom are more like the neo-conservatives and fundamentalists of the world, who say, "Do it our way or don't expect any privileges." They are not selling us the right to be who we want to be, they are selling us the right to be what they believe we should want to be. Sometimes, those rights are the same thing. More often, they are not. And when they are not, worlds may collide in a firestorm of indignation, embarrassment, and rage. I want that freedom they sold me. I want the freedom to love women, passionately and overwhelmingly. I want the freedom to love them the way I want, whether I wear a lace dress or jeans, whether I wear press-on nails or no lipstick. I want the freedom to feel sexy at 170 pounds. I want to do aerobics without resorting to stealth maneuvers. And I want the freedom to be who I am, without embarrassment or fear. I want no exceptions, no contingencies, no caveats. And if our community cannot--or will not--grant that freedom, I, and those like me, the rebel-conformists if you will, will take it. We will even steal it if we must. They'll be surprised at how fast we can run in those tight skirts and pumps."

"Amy Warner Candela, October 23, 1993"

"A Butch in Femme Clothing: A Portrait of Kitty Tsui" by Jill Posener

"Lipstick and Lace" by Mary Vazquez

"Tristan and Audrey" by Jeminie Shell

"Workout" by Morgan Gwenwald

"Femme Bracelet" by Morgan Gwenwald

"Creamy Femme: Portrait of Constance Clare" by Theresa C. Thadani

"High Femme" from the collection of Debra Bercuvitz and Kris Knutson

"My Shayneh Maideleh: Portrait of Lesléa Newman" by Mary Vazquez