Meet A Butch: Mara Tucker
Heyo I’m Mara! Aliases include Buck, Colton Buck, and Lou. I was raised in Newberg, Oregon. I’ve spent most of my adult years in Portland, this city has always felt like the best place for me as a queer person. I’ve built long lasting friendships and community here. I’ll never acclimate fully to the persistent rain and gray skies, but it’s home. Spring is a different story, once spring comes, my camping gear is at the ready, and I’m checking road conditions at my secret spots. I love to hike, backpack, shoot guns, forage, stare into the campfire, swim in alpine lakes….always dreaming about the woods. Traveling and experiencing new places keeps me hopeful and engaged. Writing keeps me grounded. Spending time with loved ones gives me a sense of harmony. And then there’s dancing with the queer crew, for bliss.
What’s something you know now that you wish you’d known when you were 12?
Small town life in the 90s awarded me the liberty to be adventurous, unsupervised, ceaselessly outside playing and/or getting into mischief. Everything felt so familiar and simple. By age 12 though, my boyish, rowdy, wide-eyed disposition was being chipped away at by a withdrawn and excruciatingly self conscious pre-pubescent girl. Quickly learning the bleak realities of being a tween tomboy, I became broody.
It started with my friends, who were boys, swapping inside jokes about me. The rules seemed to change overnight. I was no longer one of them. A lot happened in the subsequent years that I don’t like to think about, or even discuss with my therapist. What sticks with me about that time is that I believed there were only two paths to take: one for boys and one for girls. Neither path felt authentic for me. I became the disinterested friend in the group who would sneak away from slumber parties to go hang out with the brother or parents or sit alone.
I wish that I had known then that I didn’t need to camouflage myself to gain the validation of my peers, my family, the community. I wish I had known that engaging more with the idea of who I was, and what kind of person I wanted to be, would benefit me more than theorizing/worrying about future heteronormative milestones. Mostly I wish I’d known that the future me, in my thirties, was extremely proud of how I held on to my curiosity, and how downright scrappy and defiant I was throughout some awkward and formative years.
Where do you hope to be ten years from now?
I hope to be living on a bit of land in the country, with dogs, chickens, a sweetheart. Space for projects. A nice garden. I’m open to many possible futures, but I might as well go with the romantic prospect. It’s difficult to have a specific vision for the future when the last two years have shown me how fragile and unpredictable our lives are. I believe it’s more important than ever to be flexible and adaptive, which are qualities that I’m being forced to learn now. I hope that in ten years, I’m still working on loving myself and seeing the beauty and joy in the simple things.
Who are the two people most important to you?
I’m not one to pick favorites in any category, but a couple of important people in my life are my mom, and my sister Tatia.
Despite some traumas in her life before I was born, my mom put herself through grad school in her early 40s, while I was a toddler. She raised me on her own until I was six. Growing up, we had trouble connecting emotionally, and she was not initially supportive when I came out. Ultimately though, that challenging period of our relationship brought us closer. I see her strength in new ways as I get older. She’s tough, silly, inquisitive, sensitive. Well into her 70s now, she’s become more focused on how she responds during difficult/emotional conversations. She loves talking with me about politics and culture. She seeks knowledge of all kinds. Not a conventional woman of her generation, and I love her for that.
My sister, Tatia is 17 years older than me. Our relationship stretches beyond siblings; when I was young she was more like a..sister-mom-teacher-best friend. She offered me unbounded joy and love from the start. Living a few hours away, our time together was limited. So when we were together I was basically a puppy, obsessing over her. We’d drive through the Columbia gorge to her house in her little Nissan Pulsar without A/C, talking about all the fun activities we’d get into. They were summers full of belly laughs. There were consistent heart to heart conversations that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, with anyone else. She treated me like her pride and joy. When I started going through puberty, I suddenly became quiet and melancholy and irritable. I’ll never forget her telling me that I seemed different and not the same goofy kid I was the last time she saw me. I’ve spent a couple decades reflecting on that single comment. I clearly recall seeing how saddened she was that I seemed to have lost my spark. I didn’t even take it personally at the time, as pubescent kids often can’t be bothered with such vulnerability. Our lives became more complicated when she had kids, and I was playing sports year round, but we always maintained our powerful connection. And I finally managed to find my inner trickster again. I owe so much of who I am to her.
What’s something you know now that you wish you’d known when you were 12?
Small town life in the 90s awarded me the liberty to be adventurous, unsupervised, ceaselessly outside playing and/or getting into mischief. Everything felt so familiar and simple. By age 12 though, my boyish, rowdy, wide-eyed disposition was being chipped away at by a withdrawn and excruciatingly self conscious pre-pubescent girl. Quickly learning the bleak realities of being a tween tomboy, I became broody.
It started with my friends, who were boys, swapping inside jokes about me. The rules seemed to change overnight. I was no longer one of them. A lot happened in the subsequent years that I don’t like to think about, or even discuss with my therapist. What sticks with me about that time is that I believed there were only two paths to take: one for boys and one for girls. Neither path felt authentic for me. I became the disinterested friend in the group who would sneak away from slumber parties to go hang out with the brother or parents or sit alone.
I wish that I had known then that I didn’t need to camouflage myself to gain the validation of my peers, my family, the community. I wish I had known that engaging more with the idea of who I was, and what kind of person I wanted to be, would benefit me more than theorizing/worrying about future heteronormative milestones. Mostly I wish I’d known that the future me, in my thirties, was extremely proud of how I held on to my curiosity, and how downright scrappy and defiant I was throughout some awkward and formative years.
Where do you hope to be ten years from now?
I hope to be living on a bit of land in the country, with dogs, chickens, a sweetheart. Space for projects. A nice garden. I’m open to many possible futures, but I might as well go with the romantic prospect. It’s difficult to have a specific vision for the future when the last two years have shown me how fragile and unpredictable our lives are. I believe it’s more important than ever to be flexible and adaptive, which are qualities that I’m being forced to learn now. I hope that in ten years, I’m still working on loving myself and seeing the beauty and joy in the simple things.
Who are the two people most important to you?
I’m not one to pick favorites in any category, but a couple of important people in my life are my mom, and my sister Tatia.
Despite some traumas in her life before I was born, my mom put herself through grad school in her early 40s, while I was a toddler. She raised me on her own until I was six. Growing up, we had trouble connecting emotionally, and she was not initially supportive when I came out. Ultimately though, that challenging period of our relationship brought us closer. I see her strength in new ways as I get older. She’s tough, silly, inquisitive, sensitive. Well into her 70s now, she’s become more focused on how she responds during difficult/emotional conversations. She loves talking with me about politics and culture. She seeks knowledge of all kinds. Not a conventional woman of her generation, and I love her for that.
My sister, Tatia is 17 years older than me. Our relationship stretches beyond siblings; when I was young she was more like a..sister-mom-teacher-best friend. She offered me unbounded joy and love from the start. Living a few hours away, our time together was limited. So when we were together I was basically a puppy, obsessing over her. We’d drive through the Columbia gorge to her house in her little Nissan Pulsar without A/C, talking about all the fun activities we’d get into. They were summers full of belly laughs. There were consistent heart to heart conversations that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, with anyone else. She treated me like her pride and joy. When I started going through puberty, I suddenly became quiet and melancholy and irritable. I’ll never forget her telling me that I seemed different and not the same goofy kid I was the last time she saw me. I’ve spent a couple decades reflecting on that single comment. I clearly recall seeing how saddened she was that I seemed to have lost my spark. I didn’t even take it personally at the time, as pubescent kids often can’t be bothered with such vulnerability. Our lives became more complicated when she had kids, and I was playing sports year round, but we always maintained our powerful connection. And I finally managed to find my inner trickster again. I owe so much of who I am to her.
It started with my friends, who were boys, swapping inside jokes about me. The rules seemed to change overnight. I was no longer one of them. A lot happened in the subsequent years that I don't like to think about, or even discuss with my therapist. What sticks with me about that time is that I believed there were only two paths to take: one for boys and one for girls. Neither path felt authentic for me.
What’s the queer scene like where you live and what’s one thing you’d change about it if you could?
Portland’s queer scene is pretty robust. Officially on the big gay map. I’d love to see more, well any, spaces that are run by and support specifically butch, femme and gender non-conforming queers. Permanent spaces. No need for exclusivity, just a space that is foundationally ours.
What are your 2 favorite and 2 least favorite memories from childhood?
Favorite memories of childhood….
I was around 10 years old, spending the summer with my big sister Tatia in the Tri Cities, Washington. We jumped in the back of a pickup at dusk with her boyfriend and their friends who were all in their twenties. Obviously, they were the coolest people I’d ever met. Friends in Low Places was blasting on the radio and we were going fishing in the dark on the Yakima. They were drinking beers, and singing along to all of the hot 90s pop country bangers. We skipped rocks and my sister stayed near me, like she always did to make sure I felt included. The moon was bright and flickered over the surface of the river. Nobody cared about the fishing; we surely got skunked given the rocks, loud music, and hollering. It was one of those simple moments that imprints onto your memory. I felt a little older, and a little wild.
Broadly, most of the fond memories from my childhood were made with my brother, Brandt. We were step siblings from age 6, we were the same age, looked like twins, and we were inseparable. We loved to dress up in costumes and perform ninja tricks in the house. In summer we’d bomb down the double length slip n slide wearing trash bags. We “ran away” to California to live with Wayne Gretskey, outfitted with only a bag full of toys and some tea cups. We crushed on the same girl, at least once. Ate entire rolls of pillsbury cookie dough without getting sick. Shot pop cans with the bb gun. Played hockey, baseball, built ramps, rollerbladed, skated, and bmx’d, shot hoops in the driveway, played Nintendo until our hands cramped up, wrote songs about candy and bullies. It was the life.
Least favorite memories from childhood:
Losing one of my friends in a car accident. My favorite cat died when my sister’s house burned down (my sister was able to escape). Middle school peer pressure and cruelty. A couple other incidents too vulnerable to share. I have found it interesting that in responding to these questions for BINADW, it’s highlighted for me how difficult it was leaving adolescence. I think that’s true for most of us; puberty is hard. During that period I unknowingly forfeited my youth and uncontrived nature, only to be expected to assimilate into some form of femininity that I didn’t relate with, and which was consequently the basis for many of my least favorite memories well into my twenties.
What’s the queer scene like where you live and what’s one thing you’d change about it if you could?
Portland’s queer scene is pretty robust. Officially on the big gay map. I’d love to see more, well any, spaces that are run by and support specifically butch, femme and gender non-conforming queers. Permanent spaces. No need for exclusivity, just a space that is foundationally ours.
What are your 2 favorite and 2 least favorite memories from childhood?
Favorite memories of childhood….
I was around 10 years old, spending the summer with my big sister Tatia in the Tri Cities, Washington. We jumped in the back of a pickup at dusk with her boyfriend and their friends who were all in their twenties. Obviously, they were the coolest people I’d ever met. Friends in Low Places was blasting on the radio and we were going fishing in the dark on the Yakima. They were drinking beers, and singing along to all of the hot 90s pop country bangers. We skipped rocks and my sister stayed near me, like she always did to make sure I felt included. The moon was bright and flickered over the surface of the river. Nobody cared about the fishing; we surely got skunked given the rocks, loud music, and hollering. It was one of those simple moments that imprints onto your memory. I felt a little older, and a little wild.
Broadly, most of the fond memories from my childhood were made with my brother, Brandt. We were step siblings from age 6, we were the same age, looked like twins, and we were inseparable. We loved to dress up in costumes and perform ninja tricks in the house. In summer we’d bomb down the double length slip n slide wearing trash bags. We “ran away” to California to live with Wayne Gretskey, outfitted with only a bag full of toys and some tea cups. We crushed on the same girl, at least once. Ate entire rolls of pillsbury cookie dough without getting sick. Shot pop cans with the bb gun. Played hockey, baseball, built ramps, rollerbladed, skated, and bmx’d, shot hoops in the driveway, played Nintendo until our hands cramped up, wrote songs about candy and bullies. It was the life.
Least favorite memories from childhood:
Losing one of my friends in a car accident. My favorite cat died when my sister’s house burned down (my sister was able to escape). Middle school peer pressure and cruelty. A couple other incidents too vulnerable to share. I have found it interesting that in responding to these questions for BINADW, it’s highlighted for me how difficult it was leaving adolescence. I think that’s true for most of us; puberty is hard. During that period I unknowingly forfeited my youth and uncontrived nature, only to be expected to assimilate into some form of femininity that I didn’t relate with, and which was consequently the basis for many of my least favorite memories well into my twenties.
