In today’s writing, I am asking that we stop using the words “fem” and “femme” as a shortcut for “female”—or at the very least reallllly think about what we’re communicating if we do. At best it’s lazy and/or ignorant, and at worst it perpetuates violence against people’s expressed identities by conflating two very different identifier realities. It’s also disrespectful to histories of people who both do and do not identify as fem(me) for political and survival reasons. Confused? Let’s talk it out…

The words “fem(me)” and “female” have little to do with each other when we take the time to examine their contexts, especially in light of how we use gendered language more inclusively and specifically these days. While technically “fem” can be used as an abbreviation for “female”, it is by far most commonly used to mean “womanly” or “feminine”. From its latin roots, “femina” translates to “feminine”. These days fierce fems of many sexes and genders claim their stake in femininity with this shortened version of “feminine” falling from their lips.

Back before it was cool for cis straight white people to identify as fems (back about 70+ years ago), the word femme developed its own meaning in lesbian, queer, and leather communities. I’ll add here that black women have historically wrestled with what passes as femininity. The definition of that word has explicitly emphasized and embraced traditionally white European physical features and attributes, and has used those definitions against black women who frequently aren’t viewed as feminine by white standards within western society or its sphere of influence. Black women’s complex connection to femininity comes from a place of sex and gender marginalization within a history of slavery, bigotry, consistent dehumanization, and lack of resources. White women’s contention with femininity has been centered around the limitations of being female within the patriarchy: marginalization and lack of resources. For the purposes of this essay I’m specifically highlighting recent histories of LGBT and BDSM definitions of femininity as a way to explore how we make meaning of contemporary fem(me) identities, without muddying the differences between “feminine” and “female”. This essay is a conversation about sex vs. gender. Still, I believe it’s important to note that there are even more complex conversations to delve into when these perspectives intersect with race.

Lesbian, queer, and leather femmes have been claiming (or reclaiming) their feminine energies, behaviors, aesthetics, and power as something which defines them since as far back as the 1940s for the purpose of visibility within a dominant culture which would erase or exterminate them. A major reason for claiming a femme identity, even in circles where heteronormative male/female binaries aren’t relevant, is to hold safe space for a marginalized way of being even within minority cultures: ie. not all lesbians are butch, androgynous, or “not attractive to men”.

A femme lesbian generally identifies as such out of her own desire to, and is someone who often appears feminine, or aligns with feminine energy and aesthetics, yet has no interest in heteronormative male attentions.

Queer femmes are people, regardless of gender or sex, who identity with femininity. This group includes transfeminine people, men who identify at least a little with their feminine sides such as twinks, crossdressers, or dandies; it can also include genderfluid people, fem-of-center individuals, and femme lesbians, bi, or trans women, etc. In gay male culture “fem” is frequently used as a derogatory term. Keeping the patriarchy alive and well, it’s not unheard of to read the singsong tagline, “no fats, no fems” as a common closer to gay men’s personal ads—or like one I read just yesterday, “I like men, no hard feelings fems” (which I could point out is simply incorrect, as fem men are still men. What this person seems to be desirous of are masc behaving and identifying men).

The leather femme is generally someone who finds power in feminine energies, their female sex, or feminine-of-center gender identity within BDSM and kink communities. These particular femmes can often be seen performing as top, switch, and Dominant. The “FemDom” is a common leather archetype. Femininity in these circles is often seen and celebrated as hard, sadistic, queenly, diva, Goddess, etc.—a femme to be worshiped, pleased, and to take orders from, rather than to top or enslave.

While the heteronormative and queer (as opposed to historically gay men’s) BDSM community is often more open to LGBT, queer, and non-monogamous identities, there still exists a predominance of expectation surrounding: male=Dom vs. female=sub, reflective of our heterocentric binary world order. Leather femmes, a subculture within the subculture of kink, are known for flipping these gender norms. Fierce FemDoms command their (frequently) male subs and slaves, further subverting the idea of what “feminine” looks like. FemmeDom groups have often welcomed and included trans women and crossdressers who top, switch, and Dominate, as well as trans men and masc-of-center AFAB people who refuse to be told what their role in D/s is allowed to be based on their assigned sex or gender identity.

Some facets of the kink community also practice worshiping the “divine feminine”. This role is seen as both nurturing and capable of causing some serious damage, not deemed lesser than masculine or androgynous energies, but equal to each in its own right.

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“Female” is a scientific label put on babies with genitals that pass as vulvas, clitorises, and vaginas—whether or not that label reflects the baby’s full biological sex in terms of hormone levels, gonad development, chromosome arrangement, or their brain’s sex development. It has nothing to do with whether or not that female-labeled person at any point in their life will feel/pursue/exhibit or behave in connection with fem(me)(ininity) as an identifying energy, or even as an observable characteristic.

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To make this conversation a bit more reflective, I ask my cis and heterosexual readers—especially those who are both female and fem identifying or those who have never been expected to perform femininity at all in their daily lives—to consider on behalf of your queer, trans, lesbian, and nonbinary friends: has the expectation of femininity (or the expectation that you are not allowed to express your inherent femininity) ever been something which wholly disrupted your life or made you feel deeply uncomfortable molding yourself after?

When one throws around the term “fem(me)”, it calls into focus a series of articulations which have grown out of necessity for certain people’s respect, visibility, and survival. Dominant femmes have had to create an entire persona to keep Dominant male attentions (and hands and whips) at bay. Queer femmes use the term to help others understand and respect their identities and to see and honor femininity where it isn’t necessarily expected. Lesbians weren’t considered equal to, or even largely visible within, dominant society until they were viewed as “butch and femme”—two women who looked just like a straight couple due to their utilization of heteronormative gender binary expectations. While this was useful for a time within our culture’s social progress, it was extremely limiting and created unsettling expectations within queer communities for a long time too. Like the misogynistic “no fems” chant in gay hookup ads, there was a long period of time where it was “gross” for butches to be attracted to one another, which only shows how eager some people are to join the patriarchy while carrying the pungent scent of homophobia squarely upon their own homosexual sleeves.

The necessity of identifying with or against, or passing as someone who’s allowed to express femininity, is an important factor in the history of what fem(me) stands for and means. For a cis female to claim femme as part of her identity is a statement of self-acceptance, equality, celebration of a marginalized part of herself, and power against the patriarchy. For a cis man, a trans woman, or a trans man to identify as fem is these things as well, yet also carries with it certain social dangers from breaking with patriarchal expectations—unspoken misogynistic contracts signed with access to (asked and unasked for) initiation into male privilege. It is dangerously taboo. In an equitable society, fem, masc, and andro energies are accessible to every person and used against no one in order to keep them in line or discredit them within society. Unfortunately that is not the society we currently exist within.

By all means, I think everyone should embrace their inner fem/me! I ask that we please use the term with an understanding that a biological label (male/female) is in no way, shape, or form the same thing as an identity based on the energies one feels in their body, the way one intentionally expresses themselves, or how one chooses for the world to see them so that they may experience being in their own power—seen, respected, and celebrated.

If you are female or AFAB and femme, good for you. If you’re male or AMAB and fem, lovely. If you’re andro or butch or masc—whichever way your junk is formed—fabulous! Take a moment to give weight to the reality that these words, “fem(me)” and “female”, do not mean the same thing and they haven’t for a very long time. These words have been used to depict a variety of identities for so long that it’s bizarre people consider “trans”, “queer”, and “nonbinary” as new ideas or anything other than many people’s common realities both presently and historically. If it makes sense to, please join this beautiful and varied lineage, but honor why these articulations matter and exist.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

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