Masculinity Through a Queer [Camera] Lens

It’s a complex question that traverses the realms of politics, media, and personal identity. In today’s world, where male lawmakers legislate against women’s bodies and entire American cities are banning queerness in public, masculinity can feel overwhelmingly like an oppressive force. However, amidst this narrative, masculinity can sometimes also symbolize rebellion, strength, and provide a unique kind of safety. As a photographer, that is something I strive to portray in my work.

When I came out in high school, and during the years that followed, I immersed myself in queer culture and met a vast array of beautiful, diverse, talented people. However, the more queer people I met, and the more time I spent with them, the more obvious it became to me that I didn’t see this vibrant community– especially masculine women like the ones I dated- reflected anywhere when I watched TV, read magazines, or looked at art. I knew right away that I wanted to change that.

They say if you want to know what someone loves, look at what they photograph.

From the time I was old enough to hold one, I just about always had a camera in my hand, so it was no surprise that my love letter to the queer community plays out in the form of photography. I started photographing the masculine lesbians I knew at 16-years-old, and as I’ve gotten older and our language as queer people has expanded, so has my portfolio. Looking through it now, you’ll find people who identify as trans-masc, masculine and feminine lesbians, enbies, gender fluid, and a myriad of other identities and expressions. It’s a project 20 years in the making and not ending anytime soon.

The decision, as someone other than a cis-het male, to embrace your masculinity with confidence in a world that expects and demands femininity and demureness from you is an act of courage.

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