Leslie Feinberg

Stone Butch Blues

Published in 1993, this brave, original novel is considered to be the finest account ever written of the complexities of a transgendered existence.Woman or man? Thats the question that rages like a storm around Jess Goldberg, clouding her life and her identity. Growing up differently gendered in a blue--collar town in the 1950s, coming out as a butch in the bars and factories of the prefeminist 60s, deciding to pass as a man in order to survive when she is left without work or a community in the early 70s. This powerful, provocative and deeply moving novel sees Jess coming full circle, she learns to accept the complexities of being a transgendered person in a world demanding simple explanations: a he-she emerging whole, weathering the turbulence.

archie

I needed my own words-butch words to talk about butch feelings.

I shrugged. "I don't want another label either. I just wish we had words so pretty we'd go out of our way to say them out loud."

💌

“Do you know what it takes to change the world, Jess?” I shook my head. “You have to figure out what you really believe in and then find other people who feel the same way. The only thing you have to do alone is to decide what’s important to you.”

Jacqueline touched my cheek. “Al’s right, really. It’s selfish of us girls, I guess. We want you to be strong enough to survive the shit you take. We love how strong you are. But butches get the shit kicked out of their hearts too. And I guess we just sometimes wish there was a way to protect your hearts and keep you all tender for us, you know?”

I smoked with one hand and touched her back with the other. She began to tremble. I put my arms around her. Her body softened against me. She was hurt. The parent had become the child for this moment. I felt strong. There was comfort to be found in my arms.

It taught me that humility was exactly the correct emotion when seeking to unleash the power of a woman’s passion.

Strong to my enemies, tender to those I loved and respected. That’s what I wanted to be. Soon I would have to put these qualities to the test. But for the moment, I was happy.

The other femmes—male and female—looked at me differently. As the world beat the stuffing out of us, they tried in every way to protect and nurture our tenderness. My capacity for tenderness was what they’d seen.

I never ground my thigh into her pelvis. I knew she had been wounded there. Even as a young butch that was the place I protected myself. I felt her pain, she knew mine. I felt her desire, she aroused mine.

Then I felt her body move closer and we kind of melted together. I discovered all the sweet surprises a femme can give a butch: her hand on the back of my neck, open on my shoulder, or balled up like a fist. The feel of her belly and thighs against mine. Her lips almost touching my ear.

But I knew it was the urgency Al felt to prepare me for such a difficult life that gave her lessons a sharp edge. She never meant to cut me. She nurtured my butch strength the best way she knew how. And, she reminded me frequently, no one had ever done that when she was a baby butch, and she had survived. That was strangely reassuring.

A handshake like that is a challenge. It seeks out power through incremental encouragement. At the point of maximum strength, once equity is established, then you have really met.

What I saw there released tears I’d held back for years: strong burly women, wearing ties and suit coats. Their hair was slicked back in perfect DAs. They were the handsomest women I’d ever seen. Some of them were wrapped in slow motion dances with women in tight dresses and high heels who touched them tenderly. Just watching made me ache with need.

This was everything I could have hoped for in life.

And I discovered Norton’s anthology of poetry in the patients’ library—it changed my life. I read the poems over and over again before I began to grasp their meanings. It wasn’t just that the words were musical notes my eyes could sing. It was the discovery that women and men, long dead, had left me messages about their feelings, emotions I could compare to my own. I had finally found others who were as lonely as I was. In an odd way, that knowledge comforted me.

I never could have survived this long if I’d never known your love. Yet still I ache with missing you and need you so.

And I’m wondering: did it hurt you the times I couldn’t let you touch me? I hope it didn’t. You never showed if it did. I think you knew it wasn’t you I was keeping myself safe from. You treated my stone self as a wound that needed loving healing.

Later, in bed, you held me gently, caressing me everywhere, the tenderest touches reserved for the places I was hurt, knowing each and every sore place—inside and out. You didn’t flirt with me right away, knowing I wasn’t confident enough to feel sexy. But slowly you coaxed my pride back out again by showing me how much you wanted me. You knew it would take you weeks again to melt the stone.

Did I survive? I guess I did. But only because I knew I might get home to you.

That’s when I remember your hand on my belt, up under my suit jacket. That’s where your hand stayed the whole time the cops were there. “Take it easy, honey. Stay with me baby, cool off,” you’d be cooing in my ear like a special lover’s song sung to warriors who need to pick and choose their battles in order to survive.

Our own turf… “Would you dance with me?”

You didn’t say yes or no, just teased me with your eyes, straightened my tie, smoothed my collar, and took me by the hand. You had my heart before you moved against me like you did.

And I remember that look in your eyes again. You didn’t just know me, you liked what you saw. And this time, ooh woman, we were on our own turf. I could move the way you wanted me to, and I was glad I’d gotten all dressed up.

She’s looking at me but she doesn’t see me. Then she finally said how she hates this society for what it’s done to “women like me” who hate themselves so much they have to look and act like men. I felt myself getting flushed and my face twitched a little and I started telling her, all cool and calm, about how women like me existed since the dawn of time, before there was oppression, and how those societies respected them, and she got her very interested expression on—and besides it was time to leave.

At first, everything was fun. The world stopped feeling like a gauntlet I had to run through. But very quickly I discovered that passing didn't just mean slipping below the surface, it meant being buried alive. I was still me on the inside, trapped in there with all my wounds and fears. But I was no longer me on the outside.

nica

This is what courage is. It’s not just living through the nightmare, it’s doing something with it afterward. It’s being brave enough to talk about it to other people. It’s trying to organize to change things.

“I didn’t really believe I lived in anyone’s memory except my own.”

Brutal. Tender. Draining. Honest. Necessary. And thankfully a little bit hopeful. The story of a life lived in between. I wonder what impact this book would have had on me if I’d read it earlier.

Emma Cragg

Elena D Martoran

It's obvious why this is a classic. It's raw and heart-felt. A timely read.

Sarah E

if i stopped this book (for good) at different points while reading my thoughts and ratings would have been so varied. from good to bad to ugly some times. this work is truly powerful and by sticking through it i was able to see feinberg's true purpose in writing this. of how you have you fight through the toughest days to be able to live a more authentic life.

ash (smokedshelves)

this book is extremely heavy but with a purpose.

if i stopped this book (for good) at different points while reading my thoughts and ratings would have been so varied. from good to bad to ugly some times. this work is truly powerful and by sticking through it i was able to see feinberg's true purpose in writing this. of how you have you fight through the toughest days to be able to live a more authentic life.

my bible <3 this book means so much to me as a butch

asmo

this has been the only book, so far, that has made me cry for so many reasons. most times, i cry out of sadness, sometimes out of happiness, and at times out of hope. when I read about jess’ struggles and the others, al, jackie, ed, theresa, millie, i wished i could take them all, put them inside my heart, and keep them safe there. i wished i could protect them. but all of them came before me; all of their struggles to fight have come to this moment in time, in my generation, where I, although still not completely free, can express my queerness (sometimes in public, most times in private) somehow. i am reminded of how awful and horrifying it was back then. i think about how awful and horrifying it is now. the improvements we experience today as lgbtqia+ were fought hard for by those who came before us. and even then, we are still not free. and even more so, we fight. 

this book was a painful read. it was true and painful. leslie feinberg touched on the intersectionality of gender, race, and class; ze talks about being a butch lesbian in this context. in patriarchal and macho-feudal society, existing as a queer person is unmistakably difficult and, at times, a death sentence, especially for gender nonconforming lesbians. when you look, act, and feel different from what is expected of a woman, you will be forcibly bended and violated to conform. this is why there is so much significance in being a stone as a way to reclaim autonomy over the body, mind, and expression.

in most reviews of this book, I found that the aspect of labor issues does not get talked about as much. In this story, we can see how jess’ character develops as they further understand the importance of labor unions and organizing to demand safe working environments. there is no society, no progress without the labor of the working class. 

it is this character progression, the emphasis on community, that i find so inspiring. it is a reminder for us to continue the fight, that, in this struggle, we are not alone. we stand with those who came before us and those who come after us. 

this has been the only book, so far, that has made me cry for so many reasons. most times, i cry out of sadness, sometimes out of happiness, and at times out of hope. when I read about jess’ struggles and the others, al, jackie, ed, theresa, millie, i wished i could take them all, put them inside my heart, and keep them safe there. i wished i could protect them. but all of them came before me; all of their struggles to fight have come to this moment in time, in my generation, where I, although still not completely free, can express my queerness (sometimes in public, most times in private) somehow. i am reminded of how awful and horrifying it was back then. i think about how awful and horrifying it is now. the improvements we experience today as lgbtqia+ were fought hard for by those who came before us. and even then, we are still not free. and even more so, we fight. 

 

this book was a painful read. it was true and painful. leslie feinberg touched on the intersectionality of gender, race, and class; ze talks about being a butch lesbian in this context. in patriarchal and macho-feudal society, existing as a queer person is unmistakably difficult and, at times, a death sentence, especially for gender nonconforming lesbians. when you look, act, and feel different from what is expected of a woman, you will be forcibly bended and violated to conform. this is why there is so much significance in being a stone as a way to reclaim autonomy over the body, mind, and expression.

 

in most reviews of this book, I found that the aspect of labor issues does not get talked about as much. In this story, we can see how jess’ character develops as they further understand the importance of labor unions and organizing to demand safe working environments. there is no society, no progress without the labor of the working class. 

 

it is this character progression, the emphasis on community, that i find so inspiring. it is a reminder for us to continue the fight, that, in this struggle, we are not alone. we stand with those who came before us and those who come after us. 

Anna 

4,5

absolutely beautiful and important for (butch) lesbian community. real, raw, heartbreaking yet wonderful and full of hope.

Nova

4.75

leslie feinberg thank u for my life.

i think this might be the best book i’ve ever read, i sobbed through the last 50 pages, i think everyone should read this, especially if u are a lesbian 

Clara Gauthier

gingy :3

Absolutely one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking, thoughtful novels. It makes me so sad that people lived through such hard times, but so proud to be a part of this dazzling, resilient community. 

Krys C

Moxie Minion

This should be required reading for anyone within the LGBTQIA community. The one thing that I would like to remind people is that yes while Leslie Feinberg was known for saying that the main character was based in her life, this is still a work of fiction. Fiction that mimics reality at times but is still fiction. 

Some major trigger warnings for sexual assault, homophobia of all flavors, and police brutality go hand and hand with this piece. It will lift you up so high at some points and then a few pages later, tear you down to absolutely nothing. I was beyond invested in this characters and Jess' relationships through out the book.

Sésame

Je ne sais pas trop quoi dire tellement ce livre m'a habité pendant la semaine.
J'ai eu l'impression de vivre avec Jess, ou qu'elle vivait avec moi durant quelques jours. Elle a fait résonner beaucoup de questionnements que je traverse.

Le livre est implacable. Il faut accepter la cruauté et la violence permanente qui s'abat et continue à s'abattre au fil des pages. Mais il y a aussi toute la résistance, l'organisation collective, l'amour, l'amitié, la solidarité et le chemin d'exploration de soi.

Vous DEVEZ lire ce livre !!!

Eva Decker

Thank you, Leslie, from the bottom of my heart. I wish I could tell you in person how much this meant to me.

Beatrix

Sade Stacey

Emma

J★

Abigail Swallow

sukan

Victoria 

Fatima Janneh 

Published in 1993, this brave, original novel is considered to be the finest account ever written of the complexities of a transgendered existence. Woman or man? Thats the question that rages like a storm around Jess Goldberg, clouding her life and her identity. Growing up differently gendered in a blue--collar town in the 1950s, coming out as a butch in the bars and factories of the prefeminist 60s, deciding to pass as a man in order to survive when she is left without work or a community in the early 70s. This powerful, provocative and deeply moving novel sees Jess coming full circle, she learns to accept the complexities of being a transgendered person in a world demanding simple explanations: a he-she emerging whole, weathering the turbulence.

Stone Butch Blues

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