For a long time, I thought these two halves had to be at war. I thought that to be “Dane” meant stoic, sturdy, and practical. I thought to be “femboyish” meant delicate, soft, and ornamental. But standing here, in the grey spring light of Copenhagen, I realized something.
Let’s talk about that word for a second. Femboyish. Not hyper-femme. Not drag. Not trying to pass. Just… ish . It’s the sway of my hips when I walk to the bodega. It’s the eyeliner I wear even when I’m going nowhere. It’s the way I sit with my knees together and my hands in my lap, even though my shoulders are broad and my jaw is sharp. femboyish dane jackson
It’s softness without apology.