Sometimes I can spot a femme a mile away, even in trackpants. Hard to describe, but I know it when I feel it. A certain curl of lip, or an almost too-long look hello. But sometimes it is hard to tell, especially if I’m not looking.

Sometimes the radar is muted outside of gayland or a super queer literary thing, in places you don’t go looking for femmes, necessarily. But there they are. Everywhere. Just like the rest of us.

Ivan Coyote, In Plain Sight