INTERVIEWER. What does being butch mean to you?

The word that's coming to mind is "caretaker," which is [laughs] funny.

INT. Why is it funny?

Because it's like the most traditional, I guess, feminine trait.

INT. I guess so. Do you feel like it's ironic, in a sense?

Not at all. I think many people would, though. They equate butch with this cold, hard aggression. But butches are the softest people I know. We take care.

INT. How do you take care?

Of everyone? Or [laughs]

INT. You have a partner, right?

Yeah.

INT. How do you take care of them?

I-uh-I give her massages. I write her poems. I hold the door open for her. I put my hand on her lower back walking down the street. I rub her stomach on her period. I wash the dishes after she cooks us both dinner. I buy her pastries from her favourite bakery. I fill her water. I tell her she's beautiful. I tell her she's strong. I tell her stories to help her sleep at night. I go with her to the hospital and hold her hand in the waiting room. I ask her how she feels. I hold her while she cries. I remind her to eat. I eat her out. I listen to her every word. I give her what she wants. I give her what she needs.

INT. And what about her? How does she take care of you?

[long pause]

I was in a shell before I met her. She cracked me open. She made me actually see the world I was living in. She makes me see myself. And every day she takes my gooey egg-yolk heart that I've spent my whole life protecting, and—she holds it. In the palm of her hand. And she never lets it spill.

INT. She holds your heart.

She holds my heart.

INT. That's a lot.