The Beaver Whisperer and the Mythological Tiger Butch

Q: I am a femme just coming out and I am only attracted to butches. I may soon date one of the two butches I am talking to now.

With both of them, I have talked about being intimate, because this will be my first time and I want to find out what they may like or not. Because from what I have learned is that some butches do not like to be touched at all when being intimate.

So I asked one if she likes to be on the top or bottom and if she like to be touched. She said she likes the top and that she wants to make love to me. So I think she does not like being touched, she just wants to give me pleasure. She also refers to herself as my TIGER; I wonder what can I expect from a (tiger) butch.

Now the other butch said she likes to have oral sex did to her; that is how far our talk was and I do not know what else she may like, but I will find out before the first kiss. She turns me on so much that I think if we started to have a relationship and she kisses me I don’t know what will happen next. I found it interesting that one butch just wants to give and one wants to give and receive. I have not asked them if they use a strap-on, but I hope so. They both know that this will be my first time being intimate with another woman. Thank you – sorry I wrote so much.  I know the question my sound strange, but I just was wondering how would this type of person may be when making love.

A: Hi there! I’m so pleased that after what I’m sure were some severe Google woes, you decided to come to me, the Beaver Whisperer (AKA The Expert On Just About Everything). Unfortunately, I’m not going to be much help. 

After spending a lot of time poring over tomes of arcane information on the elusive and oft-times considered mythological beaver and even contacting beaverphiles in several exotic locales, I was still unable to come across another living being who had ever heard mention of a tiger beaver, ahem, tiger butch. You’ve got yourself quite the exotic specimen!

If your tiger butch has told you that she wants to be on top (is a top? they’re different) and wants to make love to you, well, I can’t give you any more information than that. I would caution you, however, that just because she’s said that she wants to make love to you, this doesn’t mean that she won’t want to be touched. You can talk to her about this directly or just take things slowly when the time comes and watch and listen to her for clues as to what’s ok and what she wants. Good luck!

If we have any tiger butch readers out there, please, comment! School me on what a tiger butch identity means. I’m intensely curious.


On Being a Cisgendered Gender Non-conformist: What Privilege?

Holy Mayflowers, I’m so full of Feelings today. SO FULL. It’s like I consumed an entire Thanksgiving meal made up of Feelings and now I just want to put on sweatpants, slump over on the couch, and watch the National Dog Show. But instead, I’ll blog.

Last night, I attended the Boston vigil for the Transgender Day of Remembrance. In case you didn’t know, this is a day when the queer community comes together to honor the memories of those who have been lost due to anti-trans violence and hate. It has its roots right here in Beantown, springing from the outpourings of grief and anger that surrounded the 1998 murder of transgendered woman Rita Hester, a much-loved veteran of the Boston rock scene. A year later, activists in San Francisco founded the Transgender Day of Remembrance in her honor, and it has grown to be an international event. Rita’s murderer – like the murderers of so many transgendered people – has never been brought to justice.

In Massachusetts, this year’s Remembrance Day came on the heels of an amazing victory – the Transgender Equal Rights Bill has finally passed both the House and Senate, and now only awaits a promised signature from Gov. Deval Patrick. This bill will give transfolk in the Commonwealth protection from discrimination in employment, housing, and credit. In a state where 20% of trans people report losing their jobs because of their gender identity, it couldn’t have come soon enough. Unfortunately, while an awesome first step towards full equality, the Transgender Equal Rights Bill isn’t perfect. The version of the bill that passed doesn’t include protection from discrimination in public accommodations – meaning not just bathrooms, but also libraries, hotels, and hospitals. While significant battles have been won, the war is far from over.

The Remembrance service itself was beautiful, including a candlelight vigil through the Common, a Reading of Names of the lost, and testimonies from members of the trans community and its allies. I loved being a part of that. It was the promotion of the Day itself – not just in Boston, but all over – that invoked so many complex Feelings. While most described the day as dedicated to transgender and transsexual people, others also included genderqueers and (here’s where I come in) gender non-conformists. The question that I can’t seem to find a satisfactory answer to is this: Do I, as a cisgendered gender non-conforming dyke, deserve a seat at that table?

It’s impossible to discuss the widespread discrimination experienced by the trans community without also discussing cis privilege. It’s also impossible to not acknowledge that I do indeed enjoy this privilege. My sex matches my birth certificate. I don’t have to deal with the legal mazes that come with changing names and identifying documents. And I don’t have to face painful and expensive operations/hormone treatments to make my body match my true self – though I have put thought into hysterectomies (I hope to have one someday) and breast reduction surgery (much less likely to happen). I don’t often have to deal with health care providers who are ignorant of how to treat me; I say “often” because I’ve had doctors who didn’t know what sort of STD tests a lesbian should be given (hint: all of them). I don’t have to answer humiliating questions about what’s in my pants or if I’ve had the “right” procedures done “down there” to satisfy somebody’s idea of how a person of my sex should look.

But then there’s the other stuff, the experiences I have lived and want to claim, yet feel I don’t have a right to. The stories about being glared at in public bathrooms. Of being hurt by family and friends who don’t understand the way I look or respect my gender expression. Of being mistaken for that which I am not, or being accused of being a fraud, not being a “real” woman while simultaneously not being a “real” man. Of wrong pronouns, of passing – intentional or accidental – and the terror that comes with being “found out.” Of not being able to relate to the things that people of my sex should be able to relate to. Of being afraid to shower at the gym. Of not being able to visit countries where my very existence is a crime and my appearance is punishable by death. Of taunts, of violence, of not feeling welcomed or safe in spaces where others of my sex walk freely and without fear. Of being an Other, an Outlander in a world where gender is so often contained in two padlocked steel cages.

I wanted to speak yesterday. I wanted to say that I understand, that I feel that too, that I’ve been there, that I survived that, that I have found some peace and am still searching for more. But I didn’t, because how could I? How can I check the “cis” box, yet relate so much to the “trans” box? And do I only claim cis for lack of a better term, because the language doesn’t really exist for what I’m trying to explain?

And then there’s this question, a question that is at once easy to answer and so very difficult: if a violent, transphobic bigot came across me or a trans person in a dark alley, would the outcome be any different?

The Buzz Cuts and Bustiers Guide to Butch-Femme Porn

Obligatory warning:  Everything in this post  is NSFW and for adult eyes only. Because, you know, porn.

The holiday season may not have officially started yet (even though the stores here have had Christmas paraphernalia up since before friggin’ Halloween), but I’m already in the spirit of giving. Yes, I just love to give, give, give, and then to receive, receive, receive, over and over again, all night long. See where I’m going with this? I hope so, because if not, I’m about to seriously corrupt some innocent readers.

My goal with this post is to help fill a void (heheheheh) in our community resources that has been bugging me for some time: the lack of visible, accessible, butch-femme porn. Before you get too excited, allow me to clarify. I’m not making my own butch-femme porn (though, considering the sinking ship that is professional journalism, I might need the extra cash someday); I’m compiling a list of butch-femme porn that I’ve hunted down and reviewed just for you, my favorite perverts. And, since more than half the search results that bring people to this blog have “porn” somewhere in there, I figured it was time to give the people what they want.

Before I get to the list (put the Hitachi away for a minute, chief), allow me to shine some light on the movie selection and review process. I looked at two sites that feature porn by queers, for queers: The Crash Pad Series and Juicy Pink Box. These studios offered the widest selection of porn that, to my eyes at least, starred real live LGBT people and not the “lesbians” (read: bleach-blonde, long nailed straight chicks halfheartedly nibbling at each other) that one sees in mainstream “lesbian” (read: wank ammo for hetero dudes) porn. Keep in mind that both these sites are subscription-based. Yes, I paid to write this post, and it probably isn’t even tax-deductible (note to self: ask H&R Block about claiming porn). That’s how much I love you.

I also took a look at Hot Movies for Her, but it seemed to be more of a porn fan community, rather than a production studio, so I didn’t include it here.

So what did I look for in these films, besides super hot queers banging the heck outta each other? I polled the Twitterverse and, with the help of my GF-come-sexy-secretary, compiled a 42 (!) point checklist of possible sexual acts, kinks, and dynamics. Let’s just say there was a spreadsheet involved (emphasis on the “spread” – oooh!). We’re nothing if not professional.

One category that people requested was “realistic bodies,” meaning no airbrushed, silicone nonsense. Welp, as far as I can tell, all these videos meet that requirement. Keepin’ it real, yo.

My only too happy to comply femme and I watched porn for roughly 10 hours. Maybe more. After a while, time seemed to stop and the universe was just a giant ball of lube, latex, ass, and alternative lifestyle haircuts. So, basically Pride Week condensed into a day. It was beautiful.

Just one more quick note before I show you the goods. The most challenging part of compiling this list was deciding what could be considered butch-femme porn and what could not. Out of all the videos I saw, there was only one that featured performers who explicitly identified as butch and femme in their bios. That put me in the awkward position of labeling complete strangers based on appearance and a little dialogue. This means that many of the videos are listed as butch-femme porn because they looked butch-femme to me, not because they were billed as such.

There was also the matter of what butch-femme would mean in this context. A large portion of the videos available – especially those from the Crash Pad Series – featured FTM performers. Here was a conundrum: should I list a video featuring a trans man and a cis woman as butch-femme? Or would that be just queer? Or would it actually be straight? I know there are trans men who ID as butch, but there are also trans men who would not appreciate being saddled with a traditionally lesbian term. In the end, I decided that it would be better to not list these videos, rather than to impose upon someone an identity that could very well be contradictory to their actual identity. Hopefully, I made the right choice.

Without further ado, here are the films that I reviewed. For each entry, you’ll find the title, performers, and sex acts/kinks/etc. featured within. (OK, you can bring the Hitachi out again.) Here we go!

From Juicy Pink Box:

Taxi, Episode 1: DOMME. Starring Jiz Lee (three guesses on where that name came from) and Madison Young. Jiz plays a dapper John and Madison is the high-class domme paid to tease her client through an NYC cab ride. Features power play, a femme top, a butch bottom, bondage, blindfolds, gagging, and the elusive “butch tits.” (And who doesn’t love a good butch tit?)

Taxi, Episode 2: SWEAT. Starring Syd Blakovich (my switch boi porn star hero) and Justine Joli. Cabbie Syd shows passenger Justine the sights, if you know what I mean. Features tattoos, a naked butch (harder to find than you might think), butch tits, cunnilingus, fisting, and reciprocity. Man, do I love reciprocity.

Taxi, Episode 6: TRIO. Starring Billie Sweet, Jett Bleu (not to be confused with rival actor, American Airlines), and Theodore Shebang. Lovebirds Billie and Jett let Theo in on their backseat sexytimes. Two femmes, one butch. Features a threesome (obvs), fisting, butch tits, and smoking.

Taxi, Episode 11: PENETRATION. Starring Nic Switch, Madison Young, and Jiz Lee. More three-way freeway fun, this time with two butches and a femme. Features a threesome, double penetration, blowjobs, tattoos, strap-ons, reciprocity, butch tits, and anal play.

From the Crash Pad Series:

Season 1, Episode 5. Starring Syd Blakovich and Rozen DeBowe. Syd has moved from the cab to the pad, knocking boots with hot femme Rozen. Don’t get too cocky, Syd, because Rozen has a few tricks down her jeans. Features a femme top, a butch bottom, a clear view of the vag, strap-ons (in this case, femme strapping!), and blowjobs.

Season 6, Episode 40. Starring Rex and Scarlett. This video is the one self-ID’ed-butch-with-self-ID’ed-femme that I mentioned. It made me very happy for that reason alone! The sex was a nice bonus. Features a butch top, a femme bottom, bondage, S&M, the pinwheel toy, and people of size.

Season 6, Episode 41. Starring Syd Blakovich and Princess Donna (femme-est porn star name ever). Man, I’m beginning to think that Syd never sleeps and just spends each and every minute of the day banging lovely ladies. If so, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Features tattoos, a naked butch, cunnilingus, a clear view of the vag, reciprocity, butch tits, choking, massages, and rimming.

Season 7, Episode 47. Starring Carson, Sadie Lune, and Zhaira. Soft butch Carson juggles two dates at once, with aggressive femme Sadie calling the shots while passive, tied-up trans lady Zhaira watches and eventually gets to join in. Features a threesome, bondage, hair pulling, power play, a clear view of the vag, a naked butch, a femme top, S&M, blowjobs, cunnilingus, butch tits, gagging, choking, and a vibrator.

Season 9, Episode 61. Starring Jobe and P-U-P-P-Y (I swear I don’t make this stuff up). A little quick and dirty motel room romp never hurt anybody – unless they like being hurt, which these two do. Features reciprocity, tattoos, strap-ons, a femme top, blowjobs, choking, and caning.

Season 11, Episode 71. Starring Asteroid and Peyton. These two just love slapping and spanking each other silly, and we’re lucky enough to get to watch. Features a femme top, fisting, a clear view of the vag, tattoos, reciprocity, cunnilingus, butch tits, anal play, and choking.

Season 12, Episode 80. Starring Sweet Tea and Summer Salt. This boi and femme share their passions for dirty sex and food-related stage names in this sticky scene. Features hair pulling, tattoos, strap-ons, S&M, and blow jobs.

Season 12, Episode 83. Starring Tina Horn and Roger Wood. Sweet de Sade, these two are sure into giving and receiving pain. This almost hurt to watch, but I’m a wuss like that. Features a butch top, a femme bottom, power play, tattoos, strap-ons, a clear view of the vag, S&M, cunnilingus, choking, flogging, and Daddy/Girl dynamics.

Season 14, Episode 97. Starring Cinnamon and Indigo. This stud-femme couple gets right down to business with the strapping and spanking. I admire their style. Features strap-ons, a butch top, a femme bottom, tattoos, a naked butch, butch tits, reciprocity, a clear view of the vag, people of size, and choking.

Season 15, Episode 103. Starring Syd Blakovich and Dylan Ryan. Syd’s at it again, this time with famous femme Dylan. I’ve got two words for you: Bejeweled. Butt-plug. (Maybe three words?) Features a butch top, a femme bottom, anal play, strap-ons, tattoos, butch tits, choking, a clear view of the vag, and lesbian processing. Yes, that is correct. Even in our porn, we dykes just can’t stop with the Feelings.

Season 16, Episode 108. Starring Q-Tip and Sara Vibes. Q wins my Best Porn Outfit Ever Award (a very prestigious honor) for the leather-straps and Green Lantern undies combination. Say the Butch Lantern Corps Oath with me now: “In brightest day, in blackest night, no pussy shall escape my sight…” Features strap-ons, blowjobs, a butch top, a femme bottom, butch tits, people of size, and leather.

There you have it, folks! A nice big, long, sticky selection of butch-femme porn to inspire your fantasies – and hopefully, your realities. I know I haven’t found all the butch-femme porn in the world, try as I did; please, if you have any recommendations, share them in the comments. Remember: it’s all about reciprocity.

Now if you need me, I’ll be in my bunk.

Getting Myself into a Bind: An Exercise in Chest-Flattening

Listen my children and you shall hear of the first time binding for this ol’ queer. Don’t ask me why Longfellow is in my head right now, because I don’t know and also it’s been a long week – a week made longer still by the persistent and awkwardly placed rash on my left side. Sexy, no? Allow me to tell you the story of this rash, which is also the story of my first time binding my chest. It’s a tale of heroes and villains, of danger and romance, of tragedy and triumph. Well, really, it’s a story about boobs, which is just as good.

This past weekend, I attended a party hosted by MadFemmePride, a popular Boston-area femme group. The theme was centered around the gender spectrum – namely, its opposite ends of “very masculine” and “very feminine.” In keeping with this theme, guests were encouraged to dress in a way that displayed one of these ends. You could choose to dress as the opposite of your daily presentation – femmes going butch and vice versa – or you could choose to amplify your actual gender presentation. Since I had no intention of stepping into an evening gown and stiletto heels, I chose the latter option. This presented a bit of a dilemma – how could someone who dresses entirely in men’s clothing every day make a “more masculine” costume?

My solution: Go full-on Drag King.

My Drag King checklist was short, as it only required the addition of three things to my daily appearance: binding, packing, and fake facial hair. The last two were easy to pull off. I shoved a pair of (good-sized) rolled-up socks in my jeans and stood very still while my GF drew me a dashing eye liner goatee. Doneski.

Binding, however, was a whole different story. I’ve toyed with the idea of binding for some time now; as you all know, my relationship with my boobs is complicated at best. The idea of a magically flat chest is very appealing to me and my button-up shirts, so I was quite the eager beaver (heh) to try this out.

First off, I gotta fess up that I did a shitty job researching binding before attempting it. And by “shitty job,” I mean, “I did no research at all and just went looking for ACE bandages, because that’s what people always talk about.” I mean, I know all about compression shirts and I’m sure they’re a better option, but they’re also pricey. For a one-time experiment like this, I wanted to keep things relatively cheap. That’s how I found myself in the first aid aisle at CVS, staring at ACE bandage packages for a good 20 minutes. Growing up with an ER orderly father and having done a stint in the ER myself as a patient advocate (worst job ever, BTW), I knew that these suckers were usually held on with metal clips. However, the ones I found were of the “self-sticking” variety. Thinking this would somehow make things easier, I bought a couple of packages and went on my merry way.


When the moment of truth came, my disturbingly excited GF began to wrap me up like a lesbian mummy. We didn’t even get through one roll before it was apparent that the bandages were self-sticking in all the wrong ways, rolling themselves into little useless ropes. This wasn’t good. With about 45 minutes to spare before we had to be at the club, we darted to the nearest Rite Aid (thanks for nothing, CVS) and found old school ACE packages, metal clips included. We raced back home with our quarry and got to work. That’s when the torture started.

TMI time, people. So besides being roughly three sizes bigger than I’d like them to be, my boobs are also extremely sensitive. As they were squeezed and flattened by their elastic oppressors, RB and LB were all like, “AHHHH WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS OMG WE’RE GONNA DIE!!!!” It sucked. A lot.

Then there’s the whole not-being-able-to-breathe thing. Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for the women of olden times who were subjected to whalebone corsets. I also totally understand why fainting couches were so popular, because I felt like I was going to pass out after about every five steps I took. (We need a butch/FTM equivalent of a fainting couch. A fainting La-Z-Boy?)

But honestly, I could have dealt with the boob pain and the crushed chest. The straw that broke this butch’s back was, literally, my back. The bandages compressed an area of my back – my left shoulder-blade and just below it – that has bothered me for years. I’ve seen doctors and nobody knows why, but this is a spot that really hurts me at random times. The second I started moving with the bandages on, the shooting pain in my back almost took my remaining breath away. This was going to be a long night.

The party was a bit slow. We had missed all the mingling and ice breakers, so all that was left was dancing. With each step causing me ridiculous amounts of pain, dancing was the least appealing activity I could think of. I would have been more excited by the prospects of wrestling a hungry tiger or playing Russian roulette – at least those options offered a quick end to my suffering.

Truth be told, I lasted maybe 20 minutes into the party before I had to find the nearest bathroom and tear that Medieval torture device off. My orgasmic relief was quickly followed by the “oh, shit” realization that I had not brought a sports bra as a backup and was now flying free. I dragged my GF into the stall with me (which, under other circumstances would have been really hot),  and she made me a makeshift sports bra by rewrapping the bandages muuuch more loosely than before. I was then free to boogie oogie oogie without feeling like my death was imminent. Other than a smudged goatee, the rest of the night went well. Phew.

I’d like to end this unnecessarily long post by tipping my hat to you, my MOC brethren who bind their chests on a daily basis. More power to ya, because binding is not for the faint of heart (or of breath).

It Was a Liebster! (Rock Liebster!)

Holy cannoli, you guys – I won an award! Hoorah!!! It’s a Liebster Award, which is awesome, because the name simultaneously makes me think of Jewish delis and the Rock Lobster song by the B-52’s (two very good things). As I’ve been caught completely unawares and never wrote an acceptance speech, I’ll just have to wing it. First off, I’d like to thank Natasia over at Hot Femme in NYC for nominating me. You’re the bomb diggity, girl! Everybody: read her blog, STAT! I’d also like to thank the Academy, the Gay Agenda, my girlfriend, WordPress, that “Kiss” poster that we all hung in our freshman dorms, Doctor Marten, my 11th grade English teacher, and all of you, dearest readers, for making this possible. And of course, big ups to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, through which all things are possible and full of delicious carbs.

Ooh, shiny.

In order to accept the Lieb (can I call it “the Lieb”? I’m going to), the recipient must pass on the goodwill by shouting out five other blogs. Yeah, it’s like one of those chain emails that you always get from your great aunt in Tulsa, only this one is about fantastic bloggers and not, I dunno, inspirational Jesus stories or “proof” that President Obama is really a Muslim socialist Kenyan anti-Christ leader of the Bloods. So way better, right?

Without further ado, I’d like to present my nominees for the Lieb:

Just Another White Woman: Justa (or sometimes her stud alter-ego Rod) keeps it real with her often sexxxy and always thought-provoking observations on stud/femme culture, diversity in the queer community, and the rollercoaster that is dyke dating.

A Stranger in This Place: Wendi, a self-decribed motorcyle-riding butch lesbian, offers wisdom and support to fellow butches and is also a kickass poet. What’s not to love here?

Is This Thing On?: Amanda is a multi-tasking super femme, sharing her drool-worthy culinary creations, exercise tips (which you’ll need after said creations), hilarious anecdotes, and fashionista tips. Plus, videos! Hooray for multimedia!

Can I Help You, Sir?: G is the mastermind behind the popular Butch 360 (which I’m honored to participate in), in which butches of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds answer bi-monthly questions. G also blogs about a wide range of topics, from gender presentation and LGBT rights to fashion and food, so there’s something for every reader.

A Femme in NYC: Maria is the sassy, take-no-prisoners femme that your mama warned you about, so naturally her blog is a great read. Check out her blunt and hilarious advice on dating, community-building, friendship, and the always-complicated-but-never-dull butch-femme dance.

Blogging Prompt #1: Finding My Root

Yesterday, whilst feasting upon the banquet of social media which sustains me, I was reminded by my queer blogging community that it’s National Blog Writing Month. This apparently means that you’re supposed to write a post every day for all of November. Many of my alphabet soup blogger peers have bravely accepted this challenge, and I wish them the very best. That said, I gotta be real with you, peeps: a blog post a day just ain’t gonna be happening ’round these parts. (Also, as you’ll notice the date on the calendar reads “November 2nd,” I’ve already lost this contest anyway.) Between this blog, Diffuse 5, and that other place where I supposedly work and they actually pay me to write stuff, I’m stretched pretty thin. But! All the Twitter chatter has led to some awesome prompts being suggested by community members and fellow writers, and I just can’t let them all pass me by. So I’m just going to try to respond to as many as I can without getting fired and/or not sleeping until December.

The first prompt, which comes from the amazing Amanda over at is this thing on?, is all about finding your root. As I’m sure most of you know from college GSA movie nights, the idea of a queer “root” comes from the film But I’m A Cheerleader, which is basically required viewing for all babygays. The sad-yet-sexy prisoners campers at a “make-the-gay-go-away” camp discuss the incidents in their childhoods that turned them all into same-sex lovin’ delinquents with great hair. Now this is obviously a jokey, not real thing, as locker room showers or a bad bris can’t “make” someone gay. (We were born that way, Lady Gaga, etc. etc.) But it’s still funny to think about, right? So here’s my own special root. It’s fairly straight(hurhur)forward: I was born in Northampton, Massachusetts.

Your typical Noho rush hour traffic.

Northampton, or “Noho” as we Western Mass natives call it, is basically the Lesbian Capital of the USA. Sorry Portland, San Fran, Brooklyn, or anyplace else that mistakenly thinks it holds that prestigious title. Noho has the most lesbian couples per capita (we’re not even talking about all the sexy singles there!) of any city in the United States. According to ePodunk, there are 535% more LGBT people in Noho than in the average American town or city. 535%!!!

All your lesbian are belong to us.

You basically can’t throw an organic vegan fair trade coffee bean in Noho without hitting a dyke. There are art galleries, street performers, and “womyn”-owned businesses out the wazoo and, to top it all off with nubile young college-aged bodies, Smith is right the fuck there. Which brings me to the one and only problem with the Noho queer community: there are only two kinds of dykes there: College students and middle-aged-to-elderly life partners. See, Northampton is a great city, and the most exciting place in Massachusetts west of Boston, but it’s friggin’ small. Like any small town or city, job prospects are not plentiful and things get very boring, very quickly. Hence, we see many queerfolk who sprung forth from their little rainbow cocoons and turned into fully formed lesbians while at Smith, then fled to a bigger city after college, only to end their great migaytion by returning to their native Noho and settling down into a life of dykemestic bliss.

I, however, grew up in the neighboring towns of Southampton and Easthampton, which are not nearly as fun, gay-friendly, or worth blogging about, and fled to Boston after high school, never to look back again. Because as cool as Northampton is, it will always be only 10 minutes from my parents’ house. Sorry, Noho.

And that’s my root.