Lesbian Stereotypes

Author Note: This is going to be an ongoing project, a collection of short fictional pieces from the perspectives of different lesbian stereotypes. Obviously no one (including lesbian females) has to conform to stereotypes - this is just a fun, fictional project for me :). Any views expressed in these stories aren't nessercerly my own - any views and opinions expressed in these stories are those of the characters, not me :). If anyone knows of any stereotypes which they'd like me to write about please let me know, I'd be happy to do so. I'll start this off with the most classic lesbian stereotype, the butch - enjoy :)!

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The Butch Lesbian

Every day when I walk through the school corridors I see them staring at me. Prissy girly girls caked with makeup and bows and all sorts of other glittery crap whisper and giggle as I walk past, not caring if I hear them because they want me to hear them. They don’t care if it’s hurtful – why should they? They’re just worried about their latest cheerleading routines or freshly manicured nails. And because I don’t fit in with them, I immediately become the centre of their gossip and insults.

“Who does that dyke think she is?”

“Careful Millie, don’t stand too close or you might catch something”.

“Urgh, her short hair looks so horrible! And what is up with that outfit?!”

They say it all in loud whispers of course, because they’re hoping I’ll hear them, feel ashamed and transform myself into a boy loving, giggly girl with mascara dripping from my eyelashes. No thanks; I’d rather dress in what makes me comfortable – jeans, tank tops, trainers which are worn from exercise. Makeup? Forget it. It’s too much trouble and not worth it.

Sometimes I think maybe the cheerleading girls are just jealous because despite the fact that I don’t conform to their stupid dress code or mannerisms, I still manage to be just as physically strong as them. I’m not trying to brag either – it’s no exaggeration that I work out hard and the results show. If I was a boy instead then all the girls would drool over my toned biceps and abs – but of course they don’t. They’re all boy crazy, and that’s the thing which separates them the most from me.

While they all giggle over boys with floppy hair and tanned skin I eye up the girls instead. Not the cheerleader girly girls – they lost my interest from day one at this school. No, I’m talking about the girls who are smart, pretty, confident and hot. Looks aren’t everything but I’ve been known to drool over many a fine figure who walks past me, leaving traces of her sweet-smelling perfume lingering in the air. I don’t mind if they’re academic or athletic – as long as they’re nice and have more of a brain than those prissy makeup-caked girls then I’m happy.

Most guys are pretty cool around me. I think they see me as one of them – some of them have tried to hit on me in the past but I always told them to cut the crap. They all knew that I could take them on easy so they didn’t push it after that. I mostly hang out with guys, usually joining in the fast paced games of rugby or touch at lunch and joining them for practice after school as well – technically I shouldn’t be on the boys’ team but the coach said I’m as strong as any of the guys so it was fine with him. Sometimes me and the guys hang out at the edge of the school field, messing about and watching the girls go by.

I’ve taken girls out before; I know how to treat them. I know that girls like all of that gentlemanly stuff – holding the door open and lending them your jacket when it’s cold – so I do my best to treat them like ladies. I’ve never really held down a relationship though; I don’t think now is really the time for that. I’d prefer to focus on rugby and school. I try not to mess around in class, but sometimes I just don’t get the stuff we learn; I’m not that much of an academic person I guess. I try to keep up though, and it seems to keep me at a level where I pass and do well enough.

My mum isn’t sure about my tomboyish attitude and attraction to girls. I think she’s secretly hoping it’s all just a phase, just part of being a teenage. But I’m 17 now and I doubt much is going to change; maybe I’ll end up dressing in smarter clothes and settle down but I’ll never feel like being girly, I’m sure of it. I’ve never been a girly girl, even when I was younger I preferred dressing up as a pirate or dinosaur and liked playing with my toy cars instead of Barbie dolls. I always used to enjoy playing sport and still do. My mum used to make me have long hair and wouldn’t let me cut it short because she thought I’d eventually like having the long, silky hair she wanted me to have, but I always hated it and felt a sense of relief when I finally hacked it all off at the age of 15.

My dad doesn’t mind as much – sometimes when he’s not busy we play rugby and watch the games on TV. I think my mum always wanted to have a little girly girl to dress in nice clothes and buy dolls for, but that just wasn’t ever me. When I came out to them my mum was really upset for a while, but now she and my dad seem to have accepted it. I try not to talk much about my orientation though because it’s something which my parents still need to get used to.

Dyke, man, ugly, weird. It all pretty much just flies over my head these days. It took a while for me to get thick-skinned, especially when people realised I was tomboyish and lesbian. Eventually I just learnt not to care; it’s my life, not theirs. As long as I’m happy with who I am, it doesn’t matter what they think.

I’m just glad that I’m comfortable in my own skin.