This post was submitted by Levi

“Cigarettes and chocolate milk
These are just a couple of my cravings
Everything it seems I like’s a little bit stronger
A little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me”
–“Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” by Rufus Wainwright

As I go from the relatively carefree androgyny of youth into the complexities of “manhood,” I find myself seeking to find where I fit within “men’s society,” or predominately male spaces.

Through just my personal preferences and skills I can already rule out most sports, especially competitive ones. I’m still traumatized from my years as a scrawny nerd in forced P.E. classes. Also, frats, the bar scene (beer is gross, liquor hurts to drink), bodybuilding, etc. I know I will never be that kind of a guy, regardless of what gender I was actually raised as. I have always seen myself heading towards being a “Man of Letters”/intellectual-type with rather old-fashioned gentlemanly sort of manners. Chivalry isn’t dead, or at least I refuse to believe so. (And I like tweed suits). Other than hanging around my dad, I have found this small niche a little difficult to find outside of literature and my subscription to Esquire.

But this year I have found a realm that, much to the dismay of my family and many friends, I am bonding into. It is the smoke-filled atmosphere of cigar and tobacconist shops.

It probably sounds pretty damn odd that a non-Caucasian, queer, female-looking transguy would willingly join a sub-culture that has long been considered the haven of the conservative, straight, white males. But truthfully, that’s really an unfair and judgmental view of the patrons and vendors of most present-day tobacco shops.

There are two tobacco shops within my town of residence that I patron regularly. One of them is relatively new-ish (meaning it is only a bit younger than I am) and run by a very chill guitar-playing guy whose dog lies around the shop. The other one has been around since the late 1940’s and is tended by a ponytailed chap and an older gentleman with a hint of a European accent. The stores may be different in terms of layout and specialization, but all of the people have been nothing but kind, friendly, and eager to pass on any helpful information regarding the products, history, and know-how to anyone who walks in. I once got a fantastic history lesson on the antique German pipe I bought myself as a graduation present.

Granted, the majority of my fellow patrons are (mainly Caucasian) men, but most people would be surprised as to how many women love a good old cigar, and the environment is always one of acceptance towards anyone who enjoys and appreciates the fineries of smoking. I have found that politics and philosophy are in frequent discussion along with talks of cigars and pipes, and there is a very apparent Libertarian streak within the modern smoking community. There’s a little bit of outlaw “Fuck you, government” mixed in (mainly due to the unfair taxation of tobacco and tobacco vendors which tend to put a heavy burden on a type of venue that’s been historically a small-scale business often passed down through families). So it isn’t uncommon to see a Ron Paul sticker or sarcastically pointed posters and signs. But one evening I hung around one of the shops and watched Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow with the owner and other patrons. Without issue. It is hard to get away with that in some places in my area without someone making a snide comment or disparaging word. For instance, at my own house, one member of my immediate family does not agree with the appearance and sexual preference of Ms. Maddow and makes rude comments when I watch her show.

The business is misunderstood and unpopular in today’s society, which only draws me in even more as a fellow misunderstood outcast. This is one so-called “Boy’s Club” that I know that I am welcome in.

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