Unpacking the So-Called “Masc Shortage”

Quispe López
·6 min read

Bill Brandt/Getty Images

If you’ve spent any time on sapphic TikTok as of late, you’ve probably encountered the so-called “masc shortage” fueling a panic among hyper-online lesbians. For those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the discourse, this “shortage” describes the supposed lack of available masc-of-center people to date; simply put, there are not enough single butches, studs, or mascs in general, to go around. The complaints ring out the same: every good masc person is taken, and the remainder are either corny or toxic.

A lot of the videos lamenting this situation are meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Some try to make sense of the shortage, citing reasons like masc4masc dynamics, straight women being “over men,” and increased demand generally. Others are sincere calls to the universe to send more mascs their way. Even the queer dating app Her has sounded the proverbial alarm, offering free lifetime subscriptions to mascs to “combat this sapphic emergency.” Despite the buzz, many are nonetheless wondering: Is there really a masc shortage? If so, what does that mean, exactly? And if the most likely situation — that there is no actual deficit — is in fact the case, why do so many seem to believe there is?

The masc shortage of the moment may be new to TikTok, but the sentiment is recurrent within intracommunity discourse. For decades, some cis lesbians have claimed that too many masc people are transitioning out of lesbianism and, as a result, out of their dating pool. This is a form of panic dating at least back to the nineties, when the already porous borders between butch and transmasc identity were beginning to blur in more publicly visible ways. Every few years, it seems like a fresh crop of cis femmes manufactures a new variant of this talking point, sanding off the more pointedly transphobic edges but clinging to the same concern. As a masc person myself (who dates other mascs, might I add) I believe all this talk actually reveals a shortage of a different nature — not a lack of masc singles, but a lack of imagination. Has there ever truly been a “masc shortage,” or is that just a euphemistic shorthand for a lack of masc people who fit worryingly narrow, cisnormative ideals of whiteness, thinness, and androgyny?

What’s more, the discussion around a “masc shortage” is objectifying, positioning masc people as objects of supply and demand, rather than as people to be in relationship and community with.

From where I sit, rumors of a “masc shortage” are greatly exaggerated. Transfemme butches and transmasc lesbians have more language to describe their experiences and are more visible than ever before. Dyke bars are having a renaissance, with more popping up across the country, many of which are making a concerted effort to attract a broad and trans-inclusive clientele. On top of it all, we also have countless queer dating apps at our fingertips; so what does the shortage actually refer to? As I scroll through my For You page, seeing video after video complaining about the shortage, a series of more pointed questions flit through my mind: Is there a masc shortage, or do you not date trans people? Is there a masc shortage, or are you discounting masc people who play with their gender expression? Is there a masc shortage, or do you want only a skinny, androgynous person? Is there a masc shortage, or are the mascs just not into you? Is there a masc shortage, or do you just not see us as masc?

These are not new questions. The toxic discourse about butches transitioning out of the lesbian dating pool only intensified in the aughts and 2010s, even becoming an entire storyline on The L Word in the late 2000s with numerous characters criticizing Max Sweeney (played by Daniel Sea) for “abandoning” the lesbian community by transitioning. This new wave of “masc shortage” discourse may not be saying the quiet part out loud anymore, but it still suggests only one version of queer masculinity as desirable in sapphic spaces. As people bemoan the absence of “mascs” and others simply nod along, there are obvious unspoken assumptions about who’s included in that descriptor — and who doesn’t count.

Who you want to sleep with and/or date truly isn’t my business. If you have a type that you go for, and that’s a cis masc lesbian, by all means go forth and be happy. But turning one’s exasperation at not being able to find partners that fit such a preference — particularly when said preference doesn’t seem to include transmascs and transfemme butches — into a more generalized missing mascs phenomenon makes it my business. What’s more, the discussion around a “masc shortage” is objectifying, positioning masc people as objects of supply and demand, rather than as people to be in relationship and community with.

There's Nothing Sexier Than a Short Transmasc Top

So-called “Short King Spring” has come and gone, and here I am, a 4'11" transmasculine top, still looking for my crown.

In fact, some chronically single masc-hunters may not realize how their narrow view of palatable masculinity could be alienating them from the very people they seek to attract. Consider how it might feel to be a masc witnessing this discourse: Queering your presentation is already a daring move in a world that punishes almost anyone who dares to bend the rules of gender. From that point of view, seeing predominantly cis people put a narrow version of mascness on a romantic pedestal can be super unappealing. When people complain about the masc shortage online, that essentially sends the message that the masc people who are around aren’t enough. What masc shortage? We’re right here.

Ultimately, the internet is an unserious place. People can be silly online, but we should be mindful of how these jokes can uncover hidden biases about how we see — or more importantly how we don’t see — people’s gender presentations. Discourse aside, widening your expectations for masc people can be liberating both for yourself and for the people around you. But it’s up to you whether you lean into the expansiveness of queer masculinity. As for me, I’ll be just fine, Scrooge McDucking it up as a masc person, dating another masc, in community with so many amazing mascs, all during the alleged masc shortage.

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Originally Appeared on them.