If you’ve spent any amount of time in queer spaces, then you’ve probably heard someone described as “femme.” You may have dated one, drawn in by their bright lipstick, statement earrings, or hyper-feminine attire. Or perhaps you’re a femme yourself, and you consider femininity to be central to your queer self-expression.
Originating in working-class lesbian communities in the mid-20th century, the word “femme” emerged as a way to describe feminine lesbians who dated butches. In recent decades, it has evolved into a more expansive label for LGBTQ+ people who intentionally present in a feminine way. But femme identity is not a replication of societally sanctioned gender norms — through their appearance, personal style, and mannerisms, femmes deliberately play with and refute heteronormative, cisnormative conventions of femininity.
The beauty of this label lies in its explorative, malleable, and highly personal nature. Because there isn’t a singular way to be femme, presentation can vary greatly depending on a person’s gender identity, sexuality, and/or cultural background. A Black, femme lesbian will probably interpret femininity differently than a white, nonbinary femme. Both are valid.
What does femme mean? Who can call themselves a femme? And how is being a femme different from being a woman? Below, find the answers to all your burning questions, as well as an overview of this label’s history, nuances, and evolution.
What is a femme?
Francophiles will clock that “femme” means “woman” or “wife” in French. In a queer context, however, femme is an identifier used by LGBTQ+ people who purposefully present in a feminine manner. “Purposefully” is the operative word here — a hallmark of femmeness is its deliberate subversion, exaggeration, and/or blatant rejection of patriarchal femininity. Femmes don’t cater to the cisgender, heterosexual male gaze, and that’s by design.
While “femme” was originally used primarily in lesbian spaces, it’s now used more broadly and encompasses non-lesbian members of the LGBTQ+ community. That can include bisexual and queer women and other sapphics; trans and nonbinary people; and even gay, bi, and queer men. (Some view this evolution as lesbian cultural appropriation and advocate for gatekeeping of who can call themselves a femme, but many people do not share this perspective.) In gay spaces, femme is sometimes shortened to “fem” to refer to feminine queer men.
Being a femme is inextricably related to a person’s gender and sexuality, but it doesn’t necessarily reflect their gender identity. It’s more about the choices they make regarding their outward presentation. (Femme or not, gender expression is different from gender identity.) Because femme is an expansive umbrella of presentation, it has many subcategories. Just a few include:
High femme: A femme whose presentation is ultra-feminine — think pink, glitter, and sequins.
Hard Femme: A femme who has a hard edge to their femininity — think leather, spikes, and platform stomping boots.
Femme top: A femme who tops during sex, often exclusively.
Stone Femme: A femme who may not desire penetrative sex or sexual contact.
As a bi femme, Kate Sloan’s world opened up when she learned about femme identity. It showed her that there were alternative ways to be feminine “besides the conventional heterosexual ideal,” which she found incredibly empowering. “I love that I can hold onto the femininity norms I actually like and leave the rest behind,” she tells Them.
Femmeness is adaptable, too, which Sloan appreciates as someone with fibromyalgia. In recent years, the painful condition has forced her to ditch the constrictive bras and vintage dresses she used to wear. She’s found new ways to present as a femme while managing her chronic pain — think comfy T-shirts paired with flowy skirts, or red lipstick with low-heeled boots. “I actually feel like becoming a #FibroFemme has shown me how integral femmeness is to my identity,” she reflects.
Chava Stavitsky, a kink educator and nonbinary femme who uses they/she pronouns, has a more complicated relationship to femmeness. For “many, many years,” Stavitsky conflated the gender dysphoria they were experiencing with a desire to present androgynously. “It wasn’t until the last few years that I realized I was ‘allowed’ to identify as a femme,” they tell Them.
Once Stavitsky began experimenting with feminine clothing, makeup, and accessories, they realized that intentionally presenting as a femme in a subversive way felt gender-affirming. These days, you’re most likely to find Stavitsky sporting hyper-feminine outfits with a packer underneath. “[Nonbinary femme] is a label that exists exactly for people like me, for whom feminine expression is inherent to their sexuality and gender, but only relative to a heterosexual binary when that is fun to play with,” they say.
The history of the word “femme”
The word “femme” has deep roots in lesbian culture, as sociologist and femme theorist Rhea Ashley Hoskin, PhD, tells Them. In the 1940s, butch/femme lesbian communities created this term to describe their relational dynamics. Femme referred to a feminine lesbian in a relationship with a masculine (or butch) lesbian. Lesbians of this era also pioneered labels like stone femme and stone butch. (If you’re curious about butch/femme history, Joan Nestle’s 1992 anthology The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader and Leslie Feinberg’s 1993 novel Stone Butch Blues are required reading.)
During the ‘60s and ‘70s, butch/femme lesbians faced pushback from many second-wave feminists, who viewed their gender expression and sexuality as inherently “buying into patriarchal oppression (for femmes) and perpetuating patriarchal oppression (for butches),” Hoskin explains. Though this sentiment isn’t true, this brand of anti-butch/femme discourse continued throughout the 1980s and ‘90s. According to Hoskin, the sentiment was so pervasive that some feminist bookstores refused to stock books by femme authors.
The discourse started to shift in the mid-1990s, when femme regained popularity as a queer identifier and began to take on new meanings. In the early 2000s, popular narrative-based anthologies like Brazen Femmes: Queer Femininity broke ground by showcasing femme diversity and arguing in favor of femme as a “more expansive queer identity,” says Hoskin. It was around this time that phrases like “bisexual femme” and “queer femme” entered our cultural lexicon.
In her research, Hoskin examines different definitions of the word “femme.” They run the gamut across different communities, cultures, and historical periods. “What I find is that they share a common rejection of patriarchal femininity — the idea that femininity is the exclusive domain or property of cisgender, heterosexual, passive, white women,” she tells Them. As queer people, femmes challenge these implicit rules when they reclaim, redefine, and embody femininity.
Does “femme” mean the same thing as “woman?”
The short answer is no. The word “femme” describes a form of queer self-expression, not a person’s gender identity. Femmes can be women, and many are, but they can also be trans or nonbinary people or queer men. Likewise, not all queer or trans women identify as femmes.
In our patriarchal world, femmeness comes with some risks. This is the basis of femmephobia, or the systemic subjugation of and disdain for femininity under cisgender, heterosexual patriarchy. It’s a real phenomenon that affects femmes of all genders and sexualities. (“No fems” language on Grindr, anyone?) That’s why it’s so important to have a word like femme: It encapsulates the unique experience of navigating life as a queer person who presents in a feminine way.
Every femme has their own relationship to and experience of femininity. That’s part of the appeal of this label, especially in its modern, more expansive iteration. Femme is distinct enough to be definable, and broad enough to encompass a diverse array of people, cultural contexts, and aesthetics.
“Queer femmes take an existing set of restrictive gender norms, chop them up, rearrange them, throw many of them out the window, and are left with a beautiful, chaotic mosaic of diverse femininity,” says Sloan. “It’s a way of being purposeful with one’s femininity, rather than simply cleaving to existing mainstream gendered norms.”
Get the best of what’s queer. Sign up for Them’s weekly newsletter here.