He-she

"[page 4:] The weekend butches were scared of me because I was a stone he-she. […] [page 27:] I noticed a grownup whose sex I couldn't figure out. "Mom, is that a he-she?" I asked out loud. […] "What's a he-she?" my sister demanded to know. I was interested in the answer too. "It's a weirdo," my father laughed. "Like a beatnik." Rachel and I nodded without understanding. […] [page 69:] Angie [said] "I remember being in a restaurant with my mother and stepfather and I saw a woman who looked something like her [that butch]." […] "You like tough women, don't you, butch?" [Angie asked ...] I nodded. "That's like the time I was about fourteen and I saw this he-she. […] Everybody was staring at the jewelry department. There's this couple—a he-she and a femme. […] The pressure just popped those two women out the door like corks. […] And all the while I was thinking, Oh shit, that's gonna be me." […] [page 137:] Some of the older butches had warned me that sometimes on a job the guys would pressure one of the women to sleep with a he-she, as a joke, and then come back and tell everyone about it. That was the last day on the job for the butch, who usually left in shame. But sooner or later the stigma also came back around and stuck on the woman who slept with one of us, and she had to leave too."

"Cops aren't very fond of prostitutes; they create work. […] The prostitutes in the Four-one bear no resemblance to Shirley McLaine's Irma La Douce. They are the ugliest assortment of hes, shes, he-shes, and she-hes in the world."