I first wrote this post in March 2014. I made substantial edits to it in January 2016. These edits are primarily intended to clarify the intended meaning of the original post, which had gotten lost because most of the main point was at the end. I changed that mostly by moving the sections of the post around, though I did do other edits for clarity. This post has been linked to many times, so if you followed a link, please note that the person linking to it may not have read the most recent version
Figuring Out I Was Stone
For many years, I assumed I could not be stone because butch was not one of my genders. I didn’t have access to an identity that would have helped me understand my sexuality, because I thought it was an identity that was inherently gendered.
I have found identifying as stone to be extremely liberatory for my sexuality. Understanding and accepting myself as stone made it possible for me to explore the kinds of sex I actually desired, and has helped me to let go of trying to do sex in ways that don’t work for me.
Allowing myself to explore stone sexuality was like coming home. Finally sex made sense. Finally all the things I knew, all the things I could do, all the ways I wanted to act sexually came together. I didn’t feel like I was following arbitrary rules. I didn’t feel like I was “faking it” til I made it. I knew how to do this, I knew how to find my own pleasure in it. I knew how to take it where I wanted to go. And I knew how to manage my own bodily sensations in a way that just felt good.
Do we want to tie stone to gender?
Right now, in most queer spaces, stone is understood to be inextricably linked to gender. This leads to a slew of assumptions about who can be stone and how stone works for specific genders.
It is often assumed that the only stone folks are stone butches. So, anyone else who thinks that they might fit these descriptions often figures they cannot be stone if they are not butch. (Like I did.) Many people assume that straight folks and cisgender men cannot be stone. Many folks assume that stone is not a word that could apply to trans women.
“i spent a long time worrying about what my disinterest in being touched sexually said about me before coming out [as a trans woman]. i ran into the word “stone” at some point but thought it probably didn’t belong to me.” –pinebark
I don’t believe that stone is something only butches can be, though I used to—it was what I learned from our communities. Because of that, I did not call myself stone, until I identified as butch. I didn’t think it could apply to me.
There are also a bunch of assumptions about stone femmes. Many folks assume that stone femme means femmes that partner with stone butches. This is an extension of the common misogynist sense of femme as not quite a separate identity from butch.
“Personally, I always thought of a stone femme as someone who isn’t herself “untouchable” but who prefers to partner with butches who are–i.e. stone butches. I wonder, though, does this take us down the road of defining femme in terms of who we partner with, rather than who we are?” –Sublime Femme
Sometimes folks assume that it means femmes that are exclusively sexual bottoms (folks who only get fucked and do not want to do the fucking and/or run the fuck). People assume that femmes cannot be stone in ways that are around emotional stoicism, and not getting fucked—they think that’s what stone means only when applied to butches. And yet I have met and talked to a number of femmes who would describe themselves as stone using those meanings. (That includes cisgender femme women, femme trans women, and femme trans men, by the way.)
“I’ve always wondered, as a femme-identified person who also identifies as stone/a top, whether or not I’ll ever be understood by partners, as the predominant assumption always seems to be that only butches can be stone, and no one has ever reacted positively when I’ve tried to explain that make-up and skirts does not automatically equate wanting to be touched.” —LionessYawn
There are also a host of assumptions about stoneness and trans men. There is a common assumption that when trans men are stone, it is because of their gender dysphoria. That it is temporary, until their body/gender dysphoria is somehow “cured” by surgery and hormones. So anyone who is medically transitioning is supposed to “grow out of” being stone.
I find all of these assumptions incredibly limiting. I am interested in talking about stone in a way that does not assume it is attached to specific gender identities. I think stone identity can be useful for and accessible to a wider range of folks if we stop assuming that it is tied inextricably to specific genders. I want folks to be able to access the idea that they might be stone, because I think it can be a really helpful framework. It definitely has been for me.
Now I want to dig a bit more into the multitude of things that we mean when we say stone.
What do we mean when we call ourselves stone?
We say “stone” as if it was clear. As if it was obvious, immediately legible. As if you could read our nuances embedded in that one word, instantly. As if we all mean exactly the same thing. Most of the time, we don’t say it at all. But when we do, when we sit down with a lover and name ourselves as stone (usually a bit nervously), we often say that one word as if it could hold all the parts of us not seen. Almost as if it was magic. We don’t want to talk about it, pay attention to it, turn anyone’s gaze toward it, so we cross our fingers and hope we can boil it down to that one word, and that will be enough.
This post (and this whole blog series) attempts to talk about it. Which means it is already treading in uncomfortable places, and drawing attention to things we generally deflect from scrutiny.
I am going to attempt to lay out many of the things folks may mean when we call ourselves stone, based on my experience and knowledge. This is intended to be a jumping off place for conversation; none of these are definitive, or applicable to everyone who identifies as stone. There are likely meanings I missed, or that I described in ways that don’t sit right. Attempting to put words to that which avoids language pretty much guarantees that.
“I found claiming ‘stone’ an enormous relief, and I like that. It’s upfront, it’s on the table, it’s a positive assertion of who I am and what I will or won’t do.” –Anonymous
The reality is that when we name ourselves as stone, we mean a wide range of different things, some of which oppose each other. I have listed them in no particular order. This list does not represent how I see stone, but instead includes the range of things I’ve found that people mean when they call themselves stone.
A. Having emotional armor: being emotionally guarded, being emotionally self-protective, emotional stoicism, not sharing our emotions, not wanting our emotions recognized or discussed. Emotional armor is a range of protective strategies around emotions (showing them and feeling them), and can range in thickness and levels of stoicism.
B. Limits on touch/penetration/nakedness: common limits can include things like: I don’t get fucked; I don’t fuck my lovers; don’t touch me there, I don’t take off my clothes during sex, don’t touch me in that way. This is the most common meaning of stone.
C. Being a sexual top: the one who runs the fuck, or sometimes the one who does the fucking (often exclusively), and is not interested in being sexually receptive (getting fucked). This meaning is often tied to the prior one about limits.
D. End of the spectrum masculinity/butchness: very butch, very masculine. Commonly, this meaning of stone also refers to specific traits associated with masculinity in Western culture (like toughness, physical strength, showing little or no emotion, dominance, etc.). This meaning has fallen out of popular use, and is more commonly used among stone folks who came into stone identity in the 50s and 60s in the U.S. As I’ve said earlier, this is not something I mean when I use the word stone. I think we would all be better served by separating stone identity from gender. It is, however, a meaning I have heard other people use, and I would feel remiss to leave it out completely.
E. Body experience of violation with [certain kinds of] touch: a visceral experience of violation with certain kinds of touch, any touch at all, being touched in certain places. This is about what it feels like to be touched, and can be separate from and sometimes the opposite of our desire for touch. (For example, I might really want to have a lover rub my belly, but might have a physical reaction to that kind of touch, where I instinctively pull away or tense up or it just makes my skin crawl, because even though one part of me wants to be touched, my body experiences that touch as violation.)
F. Sexual orientation– pleasure is centered on another: this is about a primary way we get off (though we may sometimes get off in other ways), where we get pleasure from creating intense responses in our lovers, and riding the waves of their experience.
As I stated at the beginning of this post, I do not understand stoneness to be inherently gendered, but it is often used that way and comes from a history of being gendered. This impacts stone people, and is part of how stone identity is perceived in queer community. It is often also part of individual stone people’s identities, so it seems important to discuss in this post.
In U.S. queer communities, stone is often understood as something deeply (and often exclusively) tied to specific gender identities. So folks often don’t just say they are stone, but use these identity names:
- Stone Butch often refers to a butch who fits some or all of the meanings described above. It is most commonly used as shorthand for a specific set of boundaries around sex: not getting fucked, not getting naked, and sometimes areas of the body being off limits for touch.
“’Stone butch’ is a term with many connotations just as thick and craggy as their namesake. I sometimes find myself moving away from the label because those connotations can be so firm and unflinching, and because the history of the term is complicated, as social as it is sexual; strange how something can be so aptly named, since my main issue with the identity is that every time I try to fit it to myself, it’s all rough edges.” –Kate
- Stone Femme has several common understandings that are in tension with each other.
- Some folks identify as Stone Femme because they have a set of boundaries around sex: not getting fucked, wanting to be the sexual top, not wanting touch. This understanding of Stone Femme is pretty much the opposite of another common usage of Stone Femme (the next bullet point below) which can lead to considerable confusion for folks who are only familiar with one or the other meaning. These folks may also identify with some of the other meanings of stone as well (emotional armor, feeling of violation with touch, sexual orientation).
- Some folks identify as Stone Femme because they have a sexual identity and desire built around being sexually receptive; these folks often have boundaries around not being the sexual top or not fucking their lovers.
- Some folks who identify as Stone Femme mean that they partner with stone butches or stone trans guys. This is a complex and contentious issue because it implies that Stone Femme is an identity based on who folks partner with. I don’t want to leave this meaning out, as I have met folks for whom it rings true. That said, many Stone Femme identified folks are offended by this meaning of Stone Femme, because of the ways it is a reflection of misogyny in queer culture, and connected to other ways femmes in general are targeted by misogyny (particularly the ways that femme identity is depicted as secondary or dependent on butch identity and partnership).
“I am stone femme because I have boundaries. It’s not really in relation to stone butches (though they are whom I partner with). I’m stone femme because I don’t go down on someone without a strap-on, because I don’t “fondle” breasts. I have zero interest in doing those things. So, to all those who say I’m not a *real* lesbian b/c I don’t eat p*ssy? F*ck you.” —laurynx
- Stone FTM and TG Stone Butch are two more common ways trans folks refer to ourselves as stone. These identities sometimes refer to any of the meanings described above, but are most often referring to similar sets of boundaries around sex and nakedness that stone butch is often shorthand for.
Stone butch and stone femme are terms that are rooted in dyke history, particularly working class dyke history. If you want to learn more about that history, I recommend Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold ( a history of lesbian community in Buffalo based on oral histories), and Stone Butch Blues (a novel).
What is stone not?
Stone does not mean having sexual/kink boundaries or limits. Everyone has those. (This has been a common source of confusion my classes on stone sexuality and identity.) Having boundaries or limits does not make you stone, whether they are temporary or ongoing. We all have things that we do not want, do not enjoy, or do not choose to do, and that does not make us stone. You don’t need stone identity to give you permission to have sexual and kink boundaries, or to have those boundaries treated with respect.
There are some folks who talk about stone as a role or skin you can put on and off. These folks often talk about sometimes being stone (e.g. when they top or take on a specific kink role), or being a “sacred stone”—someone who chooses to be stone for specific period of time for spiritual reasons, or stone as a form of spiritual asceticism, a way of giving up pleasure for themselves. Many stone-identified folks (including me) see this as co-optation. We feel like our experiences and lives as stone identified people are quite different from folks who do this sometimes as a tool (spiritual or otherwise). We wish that folks who don’t identify as stone would be more respectful of folks who do, if they decide to take up the idea of stone as a tool.
How is stoneness perceived in queer communities?
Stones and our partners often experience prejudice. There are a lot of negative ideas about stone folks in our communities. Stone is often reduced to something to pity, or something to nod sympathetically about.
ETA: Folks often assume that stoneness is rooted in trauma, especially sexual trauma, and stone folks often get nudged to go to therapy or pressured to “work on their trauma”. The idea is often about “curing” stone; folks think that if you do the personal work you’re “supposed” to do about your trauma that you will no longer be stone, so folks that are stone are understood as not having done the work they need to do.
Stone is often understood as some kind of a lack, or an absence, or a problem. Sometimes it is simplified to serving another person’s pleasure or to giving up your own pleasure.
Common negative stereotypes are often broken down by gender and are deeply intertwined with misogyny. For example, the stereotype of the Stone Butch is perceived as a sad and dysfunctional figure who lacks desire, or does not experience pleasure. In this universe of stereotypes, a Stone Butch is understood to be the perfect match for a Stone Femme who likes to get fucked, who is often derogatorily called a Pillow Queen or Do-Me Queen (falling right in line with misogynist concepts about sexuality). A Stone Femme who likes to get fucked, enjoys pleasure, and gets off on her body being the center of sex, gets depicted as selfish, greedy, needy and too sex/pleasure oriented, while the Stone Butch is perceived as withholding (and therefore paradoxically also selfish), asexual, damaged goods. These stereotypes work in tandem with the (very common) stereotype that all butches are tops and all femmes are bottoms, another set of assumptions that is rooted in misogyny and does everyone a deep disservice.
The negative images of stoneness impact how we are treated in our communities and our intimate relationships, as well as how we see ourselves. Stone folks and our partners are often treated badly for being stone. People sometimes partner with us hoping to melt our stone or “cure” us of being stone. We often internalize the idea that our stoneness is a problem, needs a cure, means something is deeply wrong with us. We sometimes start thinking of our sexual boundaries as illegitimate or hurtful to others.
Stone as a sexual orientation
“My sexuality is not only about refusal. The silence into which I coax her murmurs and cries and maybe eventually screams: that is my sexuality, too. And the hundred ways she has of stoking my desire just by how she moves herself under me. The exquisite moment when my hips fall down into hers and our movements match. And those tiny fissures—the look on my face or the change in my breathing or the thrusts I’m no longer consciously controlling—out of which my love pours onto her. Those things are also my sexuality and my sexual freedom.” –Leo McCool
In my classes on stone sexuality, I concentrate on the idea of stone as a sexual orientation where pleasure/desire is centered on another person’s body and experience. I understand stone to be a sexual orientation much like queer, straight, bisexual, asexual, boot fetishist, exhibitionist, etc. can be sexual orientations. I find this framework to be incredibly useful as a way to talk about what is present, instead of solely focusing on what is absent or not allowed.
Stone is one of my core sexual orientations (along with queer, dominant, sadist). Although many of the other understandings of stone also apply to me, when I talk about my sexuality, I don’t only want to name the things I don’t want (e.g. to get fucked, to be touched, to get naked during sex). I want to talk about how I do want to have sex. What kind of sex I like. How I express my desire. How I get off. And direct stimulation of my body is just not how I generally get off. I get off via direct and indirect stimulation of another person’s body/psyche/spirit. I get off on invoking strong responses in my lovers.
It is my experience and my firm belief that stone sexual expression can be a wonderful, transformative, glorious, positive, hot and complete experience for all involved. I’m going to talk a whole lot more about the pleasures of stone sexuality in my next blog post: Stone Dynamics: Where Pleasure Resides.
This post is part of my Stone Blog Series. You can find links to other posts in this series here.
I’m going to continue to think about this post, but two notes come immediately to mind:
1. Why would straight cis men need stone identity? I was struck by your emphasis on shedding the notion that stone is only for certain genders or sexualities and while I may understand the sentiment in theory, in practice and just now viscerally, there are certain ways in which that seems likely to open the identity up to appropriation/co-optation and an erasure of existing societal power dynamics. Societally, straight cis men are presumed, as part of heteronormativity, to be emotionally contained and non-receptive partners, for example. Anyone who currently identifies as female, or may have once been perceived as such, does not typically have any such luxury. Heteronormativity, patriarchy, and rape culture mark our bodies differently and treat our boundaries differently (up to and including wholly erasing them). When I, as a queer butch, say “I don’t want to be touched in X way” or when a queer stone femme friend says “I don’t want touch others in X way” that is pathologized, stigmatized, misinterpreted as somehow a rejection of our partners, etc. Most straight cis guys having these sorts of emotional and sexual boundaries is seen as NORMAL, typical, not even requiring speech but theorized as implicitly understood, not as aberrations to be scrutinized, negotiated away, or otherwise “corrected”. Now, if a Gay/Queer/Bi cis male wanted to pick up the term stone to mark an identity experience they have around the stone elements you describe, I could probably understand that – if they felt that within their communities and relationships certain things are expected of them just by default that fit not at all who they are or how they function.
2. You speak to the “cure” focus here, particularly for trans*-identified folks who also identify as stone, but I notice you don’t mention the similar challenges of survivors (of basically any form of violence, but especially sexual violence). Was that intentional? A pro-active attempt to make into a non-issue what so many of those who are skeptical or denigrating toward stone identities often use to explain what’s “wrong” and therefore imminently “fixable” about folks who ID as stone? Because the number of times I’ve seen and heard LGBTQ people suggest “seeking help (for past trauma)” – always as if no one thought of that before they came along – as a way of “dealing” with stone identity is actually a multiple of the number of times I’ve heard staunch social conservatives suggest the same to LGBTQ folks in general. And the fact that rape culture means that many of us do in fact have survivor experiences in our past (just like a startling proportion of the non-stone female population and the non-stone trans* population) makes it very easy to just lump anyone identifying as stone into a heap labeled “broken, may or may not be fixable, take home at your own risk.” Maybe this intro post is not the place you want to talk about this, but I think it does need to be discussed somewhere. If we, as whole human people, must perpetually be reduced to our survivor experiences, forever locked away from making meaningful assertions of self via identities like stone or queer or trans* or anything else, then rape culture wins. Again, everyone else gets to determine what we should do and who we should be. Detractors of stone identity need to understand what they’re doing when they say such things.
I’m sure my words here are imperfect, but I hope that they open space for discussion rather than close anything off.
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@ D. Orchid
Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment.
The second point first: I do intend to talk about the ways that folks link survivorship to stone (and talk about cures) in the Unpacking Assumptions post, which is not next, but intended to be the third post. It’s complex and vitally important and I want to take care and time with it.
As to the first point: I want to think more about the utitlity of stone for cisgender straight men, and what that might be, along with the risks of co-optation. I admit that I have been thinking more about cisgender straight women and cisgender gay and bisexual men as finding stone useful.
Oh. I didn’t know this existed. But I think it may answer some questions about myself…or just give me more. 🤷🏻♀️
@ D, Orchid
So I’ve been thinking today about the question of how stone identity might be useful for straight cisgender men. Thanks for giving me such a nuanced thing to think about today!
I have a few thoughts on the subject.
The first is that I’ve been in conversations over the years with cisgender straight women who identify as stone or who hear about stone identity and think—yeah that’s me. Those women have resonated particularly with these understandings of stone: sexual boundaries around not getting fucked, not getting naked, and limiting the kind of touch they allow; being the sexual top; and getting off primarily on creating intense responses in lovers and focusing sex on their lover’s bodies rather than their own body. They have described having difficulty getting their cisgender straight men partners to understand that these boundaries are real for them, and needing better language to discuss their sexuality. I wonder if there are cisgender straight men out there who are stone in ways that are about having boundaries around not fucking partners (they might be a good match for these cisgender straight women), but that it’s hard to talk about or find language for that. Stone might be useful for those straight cisgender men.
I also have been thinking today about the ways that sexuality, gender and self-conception changes as we move through our lives. For example, in an earlier part of a blog post I quoted, a trans woman describes “playing the role of a straight boy” growing up; she discusses an experience of sexuality that feels (to me) like access to the idea of stone sexuality might have been a helpful thing. (Here is her post: http://pinebark.tumblr.com/post/77356865294/a-cool-thing-about-growing-up-with-a-weird) Of course, that’s my interpretation of her writing, but it did make me think in general about the ways that queers and trans folks who are stone might not always identify as queer and trans.
I think that some cisgender straight men begin to see themselves as queer and trans later on in life, and access to stone sexuality as a way to articulate those desires might be useful for those folks throughout their lives and identities.
In general, I am for all-gender access as the strategy of gender inclusion I’m interested in, as opposed to the concept of “everyone but straight cisgendered men”. I think all-gender inclusion is the only way to truly communicate welcome to folks with a wide range of genders, especially folks with trans, genderqueer and nonbinary genders. I am not interested in policing who gets to call themselves stone based on gender; gender border wars hurt me way too much to sign up for another one.
I wonder also how likely the kind of co-optation you discuss would occur. In my mind, stone identity and language around stone sexuality pretty much only has traction for folks that are working against sexual norms. Those are the folks to whom I want to say, “hey this language might be useful, might be liberatory for you”. I’m ok with risking that a wider range of folks take up the language, in order to make it accessible to folks whose sexuality doesn’t fit ideas of what sexuality should be in their communities.
I also think that the cost of attaching stone solely to specific genders is very high, and I have a deep desire to move away from that. (That likely is clear from my post, but it bears repeating.)
@ D. Orchid. I thought more about your comment re: leaving out the pressure to cure stone by curing trauma, and added a brief mention. I intend to spend more time on this issue in the third post on unpacking assumptions, but I did think it was important to reference this issue in this post, as well. Thanks for commenting on this.
The first definition you give fora stone femme is to tie it to the identity of her partner? for serious? That is so beyond offensive, I don’t even…
Thanks for offering your thoughts on the meanings I discuss for Stone Femme. I appreciate your feedback, and I am listening. Thanks for calling me on this.
After thinking about your comment, I realize that my attempts to complicate and trouble that understanding of Stone Femme were not enough, and were too late in the post, that listing it first is not ok, especially given the ways that some Stone Femme identified folks feel about that meaning. And that listing it without immediately unpacking the ways it’s a troubling definition is also not ok.
I did include that meaning, (and don’t think it should be removed entirely) because I have met folks who offer that as their own meaning for their own identity of Stone Femme.
But it now feels clear that listing it first implies that it is the primary meaning, the most common, and that is untrue, not what I intend, and also a very troubling thing to imply. One of the ways misogyny works in our queer communities is by depicting femme identity as dependent on butch identity, and this is an offensive extension of that.
Given all of this, I have edited the description of Stone Femme and included a bit of discussion of how that meaning is contentious and many Stone Femme identified folks are offended at the idea that their identities are dependent on partners. (Especially since that is a way that misogyny operates in general regarding femme identity.)
Thanks again for calling me on this. I really appreciate it.
Although it is great that you fixed it, I find it highly problematic that it did not occur to you that it was problematic to begin with. For someone who claims to be an educator, you seriously have a lot to learn about showing respect for femmes. We are not here to be an accessory to your existence and the fact that someone who puts them self out there the way you do and promotes them self as an authority on these topics would blatantly and unironically perpetuate the kind of bias that dismissed femme identity as secondary to butch existence is highly problematic.
Yep, I fucked up here and do not take that lightly. I agree that it is highly problematic, particularly because I do community education on this subject, and is a sign of my internalized misogyny and femmephobia, which I clearly need (and intend) to continue to work on. I’m certain that I have a lot to learn, and it is my intention to continue to seek avenues for learning and challenge on this subject.
Thank you for taking the time and energy to call me on this. I would guess that the last place you would want to see this kind of internalized misogyny and femmephobia is in a post about stone identity and sexuality, especially since so few people are writing publicly about stone.
I apologize, both for contributing to the invisibility and dismissal of femmes in queer communities from a position of authority, and for the hurt I likely have caused by doing so.
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“For example, the stereotype of the Stone Butch is perceived as a sad and dysfunctional figure who lacks desire, or does not experience pleasure. ”
Sounds like a lot of the negative stereotypes about stone people come from the same place as the negative stereotypes about asexual people and nonlibidoists.
Something I’ve long wondered about but never really found a good place to ask: how does penetration as part of masturbation intersect with a stone identity? Is stone about not liking penetration or about not liking being penetrated by someone else? Penetration is very enjoyable to me on my own but I don’t generally want or enjoy anyone else penetrating me in a sexual context. Is that within the realm of stone? Is that unusual for stone-identified people?
I’m not sexual with other people very much right now but some parts of stone identity have been resonating with me, and I’m not really sure where masturbation fits in.
That makes sense to me, that the stereotypes might come from similar places, in reaction to folks violating social norms about sex and relationships. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on this, if you were willing to share them.
Thanks for commenting, and asking this question.
I don’t think there is one answer about how stone folks do solo sex, and whether our boundaries are different in solo sex than they are with partners. There’s probably a range of ways stone folks do boundaries around solo sex. There are a range of boundaries amongst stone folks in general, and some of us do penetration some of the time in partnered sex, so I would imagine that would also apply to solo sex.
It sounds like you are wondering if you might be stone. No one else can determine that for you. I would say that if some of these things resonate, stone might be worth exploring as a way to talk and think about your sexuality, even if some of the things associated with stone sexuality may not fit. It’s not an either/or thing, I think. If some fits, and stone seems like it might help you understand yourself or communicate about your sexuality, it might be worth it to use the word stone. Whatever you decide, if some of the language I used to describe stone sexuality works for you, I would encourage you to consider using it, even if you decide that you do not wish to use the word stone to describe yourself.
I will be talking more about stone sexuality and where pleasure resides. I am going to be thinking about your question for myself and what I might have to say about my own stone identity and solo sex, in the next post in this series. Thanks for giving me something important to think about.
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Reblogged this on MainelyButch: Butch Lesbian Perspectives and commented:
this is the BEST blog on Stone Butch existence and sexuality that I have read to date. Could not have written this better myself…BRAVO!
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Very interesting! I particularly like the quote from Laurynx. Opened my mind right up. I’m straight up femme and I’m attracted to soft butches because I love their masculinity but I’d have serious problems with limits via touching. Still, I can get how Laurynx can want only stone butches. It’s so easy to ask why she wouldn’t just date a man then…but men will never be women. And even the stoniest butch could never be male. And I guess in Laurynx’s world, that’s all the difference 🙂 I get it.
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Excellent post, and excellent discussion in the comments. Much of what you write resonates with me. I wish I could write a clearly about my stone Butch-ness. I struggle with explaining stone to anyone who doesn’t really “get” it. You’ve done a superb job here in my opinion. ~MB
Thank you for your kind words. So glad to hear that it resonates. Explaining stone is a challenge, for sure. It feels slippery, like it doesn’t want to be explained.
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