Nope, I don’t need a man, but thanks.

A million years ago (okay, maybe 2 months or so) I was asked a question….

[My girlfriend and I] go out, to bars or whatever, and will be playing pool, and we meet new people, mostly ones that want to play whomever wins the current game, and without fail at least one man will talk to me about ‘the lesbian thing.’ The conversation always turns to some sort of ‘so do you guys just like each other or do you want company’ sort of offer, and have to play it off like I’m not completely repulsed and kinda laugh it off and politely decline. But then I think about it, and I was NEVER approached when I was with a man, and I don’t understand why they think it’s okay to offer themselves up when it’s two women. Is a lesbian relationship seen as less committed? Do they think that we all secretly want male companionship (or equipment)? Why is that okay?

I have taken my sweet time responding because I am just not sure what to say.  The first question or implication of lesbians being propositioned more frequently than heterosexual couples is generally because a man has it in his head that there are now 2(!) women who will fawn over him in bed.  If he were to invite himself into a het couple’s bedroom, he would potentially have to come into contact with another man (shock!) and could be seen as gay (omg!).  I think that a lot of this (the propositioning) comes about because pop culture has advertised lesbian sex as hot, sexy, taboo, something naughty – and we all know sex sells.  Perhaps these men just want a chance to get up close and personal with real life lesbians.

Now, I wouldn’t say that we receive this sort of attention because our relationships are viewed as less committed, perhaps just misunderstood.  People outside the queer community see the friendship first and the love and devotion/commitment second.  There is a lack of recognition of the true emotions and commitment involved in a lesbian relationship across much of the United States (and parts of the world).  This is where I feel it is our responsibility to demonstrate that our love is every bit as intense as the love of any other human – no matter the sexuality.

I really want to respond with something along the lines of people are assholes.  But this is something we deal with frequently, and we have to find strength and bravery in standing up to these people.  We are brave to know that bigotry and cruelty exist in the world and yet choose to live as we are and not make excuses or try to hide.  So, continue to be you, to express your love in public (if that’s your thing), to stand up to jerks who invite themselves along for the ride.

*All opinions expressed are mine alone and based on my personal experiences.  I do not speak for anyone but me.*

 

The Coming Out Monologues

Last night I performed in “The Coming Out Monologues” (TCOM).  TCOM is just like the Vagina Monologues, vignettes about the process, feelings, emotions, and actions surrounding coming out as LGBT (or allied) in some fashion.  It was created and first performed at the University of California Riverside in 2007 and has slowly been spreading across the nation.

The stories told in TCOM are heartfelt and moving.  Some are riotously funny, and some make me cry for those people who have to endure the terrible things we endure.  My favorite stories are titled Going In and Inevitability.  Going In begins:

We always talk about coming out, but we never talk about going in. Coming out is this lifelong process accomplished in huge events and tiny moments. So is going in, only it usually starts earlier.

The author talks about how we commonly find ourselves making small changes in life to appease others and appear “less gay.”  She questions why we make certain the rainbow stickers on our cars are removable. Or why we just nod politely when coworkers suggest single males for us to date.  This is going in.  Each time I heard this read in rehearsal I was filled with the need to live my life as loudly and gayly as possible.  My every action and statement should not be about being gay, but I never want to feel the need to hide who I am and what I believe in.

Inevitability discusses that feeling in the put if your stomach right before you have “the talk” with someone.

Do you know what I’m talking about?  It’s this raw nervousness so intense you can never forget it.  Imagine your stomach is drenched in cold acid and your heart pulses out hot lava, and the two substances swirl and churn in your midsection.

Did you feel it?  Now do you know the feeling I’m talking about.  You have to feel it to understand.  It’s nausea, anxiety, regret, anxiousness, pain, excitement, depression, and a hundred other emotions all mashed together.  For me, the only word that comes remotely close to naming this feeling is “inevitability.”  I know that inevitability is not an emotion, but that’s what it feels like to me.

The event was wonderful.  My campus is liberal and relatively open minded, but I was concerned about how the show would be accepted.  We have a large queer community, but it tends to be disjointed – mainly because LGBT people are so well accepted in the community at large.  I was worried that no one would come, or that those who did take the time would not be supportive.  But I worried for nothing (as usual).  We had standing room only in a room that seats 150 people!

When I stood up to give my monologue I was astounded not only by the number of people in the room, but by the love and energy I was receiving.  People were listening intently.  They were laughing along.  They had tears in their eyes.  Our hard work paid off.  Our goal of informing the uninformed was achieved.  Our message was being heard.  It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  I was proud to be standing in front of these people and sharing something intimate and personal.  It was the best way to cap off my final days at school.

 

Necessity of a queer community

I came out at age 17. Until that point I never really questioned my sexual orientation. There were no all girl band posters hung on my walls. I didn’t dream about beautiful women from the silver screen (that I remember). All I knew was that suddenly I had fallen in love – and it happened to be with a girl. I actually denied the relationship and the true nature of my feelings to family, friends, and even myself for the first few months of our relationship. Eventually, all those around me knew I was gay and dating a girl (who happened to be the most outspoken lesbian in the school – try being straight dating her!).

It wasn’t until I entered college that I was comfortable labeling myself as lesbian. I still held the belief that I may not be strictly gay or straight, more that I was just a girl looking for love. However, I felt the pressure from the queer community to declare myself, and so I did. I never really thought much about it, just sort of seemed like the next step in my coming out process. With my declaration of my orientation, I was immediately accepted by the queer community.  I attended GSA meetings (an org I helped found at my high school) and made friends solely through a queer connection.  The more time that I spent around my new friends the more I realized how much of a family I had discovered.  These people were open, sexual, hilarious, caring, pompous, shy, and just about everything you could ever wish for in friends.  I felt extremely lucky to have found this wonderful amalgam that accepted everything I had to offer.

In the coming years, we all started going our separate ways; graduate school, work, family obligations.  I was slowly but surely losing my queer family.  We have kept in contact, and I have welcomed new members of the community into our social circle, but I can’t help but feel a loss.  After determining that I needed to try and find this connection outside the queer world, I went in search of old friends I had lost some connection with.  However, the more time spent surrounded by a heterosexually dominated group, the more I knew that I belonged with queers.  There is less need to make excuses for the things you say.  There is no need to skirt around saying my boyfriend/girlfriend.  There is a mutual understanding of the things you have had to overcome in your life.  We are all connected in one way or another.  Sure, I am connected to my hetero friends as well, but as someone who focuses on LGBT advocacy and queer politics, I am better acquainted with my queer brethren.

So, I sit here today, a semi-happy, queer femme in purple converse listening to Madonna who is just pleased to have finally found the community that makes me feel valuable and complete.  And for today, that’ll do.