stud is a black lesbian identity, much like AG (aggressive). though it is similar to butch in describing female masculinity, and stud/fem often mirrors butch/femme roles — it illustrates their unique relationship to womanhood by recognizing the specific ways in which they are subjected to, and impacted by, racism, homophobia, and misogyny due to historical constructions of black gender roles and perceptions of black female masculinity.
some historical information and excerpts about the meaning and evolution of stud identity:
- in 1965, ethel sawyer conducted “a study of a public lesbian community” in st. louis, missouri. this was the earliest known sociological study of a black lesbian community anywhere in the united states. in this fieldwork, sawyer found that masculine black lesbians in the midwest referred to themselves as studs.
- anita cornwell writes “the butch, who in all black gay circles that i have ever encountered is labeled ‘stud’” (from “a black lesbian is a woman is a woman…”, published in the los angeles free press, november 1972)
- lorraine bethel references “the black bulldyke stud” in her poem “what chou mean we, white girl? or: the cullud lesbian feminist declaration of independence (dedicated to the proposition that all women are equal, i.e. identical/ly oppressed)”. (published in bethel & smith, 1979)
- susan, in an interview about female prisoners, uses the term “stud broad” to explain “women who from physical appearance might easily be mistaken for men … contrary to the images in homophobic research and media … they are often unusually quiet and gentle … [she] sometimes won’t allow herself to be touched.” (from “sex is always the headliner”, published in sinister wisdom no. 16, 1981)
- oshen t. explains “i identify as stud but, growing up, i didn’t know that there was a word, ‘stud.’ what was more common was butch, but at some point, like in my mid to late teens, i noticed that butches were usually white women, and even though i did see some black butches … at some point it got really irritating and didn’t fit me. i don’t feel butch, and i don’t like that word, even saying it. stud came out of me and my peers having a conversation, and i held onto that word stud. we younger studs from east oakland started to gravitate toward that. butch was white and older, and as young kids, we were studs. there was some age stuff, race and class. all the books were about stone cold butches … just white people. we were like, nah, that’s not us.“ (quoted in “masculine of centre, seeks her refined femme” by b. cole, published in persistence: all ways butch and femme, 2011)
- b. cole writes “unlike white female masculinity, female masculinity for womyn of colour is based on sites of power and systemic oppression — through masculinities of colour. the assumption that they can be resignified with equal subversive and revolutionary actions against white manhood is false. the ability to access masculinity pivots upon the ways in which gender intersects with race, and these gaps have been filled with new ways of naming ourselves. in the last decade, the explosion of young masculine-of-centre womyn has created a demographic shift on the butch landscape, giving way to terms like ‘stud’, ‘boi’, ‘tom’, and ‘macha’ in california and the south, ‘dom’ within the d.c., maryland and virginia region, and ‘aggressive’ or ‘AGs’ in new york.
these identities represent a redefined female masculinity that is rooted in the experiences of womyn of color and is more genderqueer than historical interpretations of butch…
…the emergence of this new language would not have happened were it not for the ways in which masculine-of-centre womyn of colour live their female masculinity through the lens of race. our identity has socially transformative powers and there are still nuances to our identities — masculine-of-centre mothering, social mobility, and historical racial oppression — which shape masculinity in ways that have yet to be fully explored…
*womyn here is used to reflect that, for many of us, as masculine of centre, our gendered identity is not accurately reflected in the term women.” (reprinted in outside the XY: black and brown queer masculinity, 2016)
- nneka onuorah said “black women don’t have a voice — black ‘AG’ [aggressive] lesbians don’t have a voice. i wanted to tell a story of my own for people who look like me.” (from an interview with NBC news about her film the same difference, 2015)
some films of interest: