The power of lesbianism will get me through this storm

Kiana Khansmith

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@spacemushies
The power of lesbianism will get me through this storm
Just a baby Triceratops having a fun time chasing some fireflies in the forests of the Cretaceous, nothing could possibly go wrong.
Prints are available in my store: https://www.emmalerae.com/store.html
Why am I seething so much?
They are my friend.
This person had better treat them right or I swear to fucking god.
It was all a fucking lie.
They never wanted me.
They played around with me
Practise for the r e a l thing
Debasing themselves for pussy
All their morals
All their proclamations
Utter fucking bullshit.
I feel so betrayed, and now I have to put on a big old smile, be happy for them finally finding love in someone who is a stranger to them and all of our friends?
Someone who is morally opposed to them?
'Oh it takes me months to develop a deep bond of trust and friendship before I feel anything.'
*immediately starts necking an obnoxious stranger who doesn't even fucking recycle*
Fuck this shit, I am out.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you M fuck you fuck you fuck you.
Papercraft beetles, 2025-07-22
I deserve warm cuddles and a needy make out that turns into rough sex because we can't get enough of each other
Feeling of Gaze
Queers across the sea, I love you, stay safe.
Pillowing pools of crimson leaking
Hoarse raw throats screaming
I scream with you.
I love you.
Stay safe.
Being a 16yro lesbian in the UK during 2014 was surreal, we were at such a strange cultural crossroads. I was between generations, straddling this new paradigm of protection and acceptance with a bucket full of homophobia and apathy from peers and some of my teachers.
I wasn't aware of Section 28 until I began studying sociology in year 10, the horror and fear of it. I was aware of the queer teachers at my school though who had grown up with Thatcher and had their early careers threatened by their identities.
My first relationship began in the summer of 2013, it was my lifeline in a sea of abuse that I was barely managing to tread at home. It was not a healthy relationship, we were both messed up mentally ill children. But we had eachother and it was wonderful to be loved without it being transactional.
These teachers and their allies were discreetly proud of us, we got shit from the other pupils, but we loved eachother. We were the first openly lesbian couple to attend a prom.
Small smiles of encouragement came from them. Roars at our bullies when spotted. Shit happened, but we mostly felt safe thanks to our elder queers.
We had two lesbian department heads married to eachother, my Jewish gay history teacher hiding his upcoming wedding, our butch biology teacher who wore her fury on her sleeve, the bisexual TA from Austria frankly talking about her gf, and whoever else was still in the closet.
I was so glad to know them all, they were the first queer people I saw on the daily in my village.
I remember the heat that came with same sex marriage being legalised in 2014, the kids debating my right to exist during RS lessons, my right to raise a child. Their bullshit being shut down, my teacher checking in with me after class and apologising for not stepping in - she genuinely didn't know. And promised to do better, and she did.
My form tutor ignoring my legitimate sex ed questions during a PSHE day about how to have safe sex as a lesbian. She thought I was mocking her and tried to give me detention before I had to forcibly out myself to avoid punishment. 'Oh, I don't know, lesbians can't get STDs, right?'. (They can)
Kids were mostly cool with it, the bellends have faded from my mind mostly.
What I loved most was the fact that I became elevated to the position of student 'gay elder', I would get tentative confessions on ask.fm from fellow students. Delicate coming out messages on Facebook. Hushed secrets in dark corners around school.
I became confession and adviser, 12 years on, I still hold a handful of identities in my heart for those who are not ready.
(I identified as a lesbian at the time, I am currently an enby butch polysexual, but the label of lesbian is something that I feel close to 12 years later)
you can be trans without being a woman
you can be trans without being a man
you do not have to be binary to be trans
Male Mimicry
(In honour of my drag spoken word event being cancelled) (please keep in mind this is meant to be more of a speech)
I was called a dyke
Before I knew what attraction was
Before I knew girls could be loved as I am, and not as I wished to be.
A warning label,
Burned into my skin.
Men taught me masculinity was something exclusive,
Something they owned, a privilege steeped in a woman’s fear.
So, when I wore it differently,
They called it theft,
Called it imitation,
Called it dangerous.
They taught me masculinity in a woman was an open debate,
Like something to be corrected, conquered, or consumed.
A thing that shouldn’t exist,
Unless it existed for them.
Some of them, I was too young to remember.
Some of them didn’t ask.
Some of them overpowered me, pinned me down, choked me.
All of them called it desire,
When it was actually entitlement
With a boner.
I’ve had men tell me
They’d become women just to fuck me,
Like transness is a costume,
Like my body is the prize at the end of a joke.
I’ve had men tell me
My butchness was a rehearsal for manhood,
As if masculinity has one source,
As if violence is the blueprint.
This is the masculinity they swear I emulate,
As if my butchness is a mimicry of a man’s.
I wore dresses as apologies,
Womanhood as my own personal drag show.
But, as they say,
You learn who you are
By what you refuse to become.
I am a butch dyke,
I do not confuse wanting with owning,
Nor turn bodies into a battleground.
A butch does not need fear
To feel powerful.
Men view my masculinity as predatory,
Waiting to cross a line.
But my masculinity was born in refusal.
In watching.
In learning exactly
What I will never become.
I am a good pair of boots,
A tenderness for my femme,
Strength for my fellow butches.
Hands that fix things,
A solid punch to the face,
Or a kick in the balls.
But, more than that,
A subversive sociopolitical identity.
Intertwined in the community,
Tangled in the beautiful mess
That is queerness.
My masculinity is not theirs.
It is not inherited.
It is not violent.
It is built against them.
It comes from the butches before me,
Who learned strength
Without becoming cruel,
Who protected without owning.
I am the line,
Men cannot cross.
Droning screams undulate through the night
Bloodshot eyes furrow
Hot heavy heaving breaths
Pouring foul rot forth spittle flecking my cheek
My hands but older clench the wheel
Again child. Not good enough. AGAIN CHILD
I cannot take this anymore
Again
Again AGAIN
A G A I N
Not right never right AGAIN
Say it like you mean it
Stupid little thing
Succulently caress me
I can see the want in your eyes
You think I don't
I hear your heart quicken when I slip my arm around your waist as we watch nonsense
My GOD just take me, take what you want, just ASK ME, eat my heart, tear off my lips you famished little thing.
Every beautiful romance ever made is about two freaks who mask their freakishness & live conventionally but isolated until they meet and match each others freak so hard it ruins both of their lives
My partner and I are so freaky that it made our lives infinitely better.
Yes I am going to be my full autistic self, you want to be your full ADHD self? Let's go girl!
Butch baby butch baby
They cannot stop you
Shoot forth and deny them
Don't deny yourself
Parasaurolophus is the most lesbian dinosaur. You cannot change my mind.
You're telling me that those guys wouldn't carry a chunky ass carabiner?
They would totally use their resonant crests to deliver long distance slam poetry and wooing serenades to a butch they met at the bar 1 hour ago.
Image credit: Anne E. G. Nydam