Monday, February 1, 2010

Lesbian Rites of Passage: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

     Like most groups of people, lesbians often evolve, experiencing certain rites of passage along the way. But unlike their straight counterparts, lesbos often pass through them secretly, without ceremony or discussion, left to figure things out on their own, until they are lucky enough to find lesbian friends and mentors.

     If you were one of the lucky ones and grew up in a hip, urban area with progressive parents, your “coming of age” story may be quite similar to any female’s. Unfortunately, it is less likely that your lesbo sisters who live in more rural areas, where religious beliefs often trump compassion and understanding, are enjoying the same acceptance and support. 

     Don’t get me wrong. “Debby Downer”, I’m not. Things are improving, due to a few high-profile souls, like Ellen. But let’s face it, the world is different for the rich and famous, so don’t get overly excited that Ellen got her own talk show, and believe that her success somehow proves there’s nothing for us lesbos to worry about anymore. It’s gonna take the average Jane to jump on board, demanding fairness, before we will all be taken seriously. So tune into your inner bitch and be strong. Life is hard enough, without settling for less, right out of the gate. No. I swear I’m not a preacher. You’re simply hearing me first thing in the morning before the coffee kicks in. Plus I know how far we’ve come since I came out, and I can see how much farther we have to go. We’re only about halfway there, if you ask me.

     But back to rites of passage. Who knows, maybe that first kiss is that much sweeter, as an intimate secret shared only between two innocent girls, instead of discussed with giggling classmates. It has been suggested that anything considered taboo causes the heart to race and excitement to crescendo. In another day and time, I remember the thrill and taste of my first girl kiss. I thought I might spin off the side of the planet, suddenly on fire in places I’d ignored until that moment in my life. Instead of wallowing in adolescent angst of the ordinary variety, I vacillated between feelings of passion for my new love, and worry over being found out and ridiculed as a pervert by my classmates and family.

     Speaking of rites of passage, getting married certainly qualifies as a huge affair for us all, regardless of our sexual orientation. For those of us who choose (just kidding) ”the road less traveled” in life, our decisions surrounding marriage and starting a family are often complicated by mothers and fathers who would rather ignore our “so-called” matrimonial unions, where we are already marginalized by society at large, being denied legal recognition in most jurisdictions.

     Questions haunt us as we consider breaking free from the legal restraints placed on us by society. If we have a wedding, who should we invite? How will we feel if our parents don’t show up, or worse, humiliate us by ignoring us altogether as we plan the event. Will they show up for the shower, gift in hand and smiling, or will they instead hide in schedule conflicts and other excuses? Who will give us away? Who can we count on? Are we up for the emotional turbulence of testing the family, or will we, instead forgo the drama altogether, by deciding against a formal affair, relegating our own status to that of second-rate citizen, buying what the majority is selling in our actions, if not our words?

     If the lesbian marriage dilemma is not enough to fret over for most sappho sisters, then the baby issue is sure to floor all but the most robust of spirit. A young lesbian’s maternal drive will be tested at length as she navigates the turbulent waters of how to have a baby or adopt one, without a man by her side. Many families who are willing to accept a marriage between two women, often frown in disapproval when their daughter considers parenthood, believing that all children need a mother and a father, like that’s the norm in their world of soaring divorce rates and absent fathers.  

     To my surprise, I have overheard even the most intellectual lesbians question their own motives for wanting children, worried that a child will suffer and be teased for having two mommies. If a lesbian decides it makes more sense to adopt, justifying their maternal drive and conscience more easily by coming to the rescue of an orhpan, then the court system may or may not be as receptive, often willing to leave the child “in the system, parentless,” rather than place them in a loving lesbian home.

     You must be saying, tell me something I don’t know. As always, you know I’ll share my opinion. So here goes. The meek do not inherit the earth! It’s true. I don’t care what they told you in Sunday School. And, yes, I realize I may be challenged by some Bible scholar who will swear I have misinterpreted a Bible verse. Deal with it, okay. It happens. You know where I’m going with this, so shut up and stop hiding in the Bible. Even with its inarguable bestseller status, you must admit to the fact that there have been too many editors to really know what the author’s true intentions were. Does the phrase, lost in translation mean anything to you?

     Religion aside, it is time to be bold! We have to show up for each other, when our families won’t. Once we claim our rights, as we are slowly doing over time, the heteros will come around. Lesbians are leaders. We have no choice, but to lead others through our own conviction, demonstrated through courageous actions instead of hollow words. If we lead, they will follow. But if we hide and shirk our responsibilities, the status quo will win.  

     And if you need more motivation than the lure of marriage, children, and basic fairness, then consider the older lesbian’s plight. Someday, if you’re lucky, you will be an older lesbian, if you aren’t right now. That’s when, a few supportive friends will act as family to support you as you pass through menopause and old age, often without children or governmental support systems that the “straights” have in place. If the idea of being treated “less than” in society simply because of who you love doesn’t make you angry enough to fight for equal rights, then consider the fact that you paid your fair share of taxes all your life, the same percentage that the “legally married” heteros paid, but you are forced to forgo the marital inheritance privileges afforded to your “straight” counterparts.

     Anger isn’t all bad, despite what they taught you in school. Anger fuels progress. When you get really red-faced, furious about the situation, then you’ll possess the fire in your belly required to force change. “I’m just sayin.”  Don’t get comfortable simply because you see a few lesbos on TV. The battle isn’t over. We haven’t heard the fat lady sing yet. That faint song in the background, is her warming up.

[Via http://lesbianwink.wordpress.com]

Helping Susan-Part 1

I had not seen Susan in some time before last week. Although we had been good friends, we each got caught up in our own activities, as sometimes happens. I was glad to hear her voice on the phone, but I could tell she sounded upset. I invited her to come over to talk in person.

Imagine my surprise when I answered the door and saw that Susan is quite obviously pregnant! I congratulated her but soon learned that the pregnancy was causing problems. Susan’s boyfriend, who had knocked her up, now considers her unattractive. Her size turns him off, and she thinks she is no longer attractive.

I made some tea and we chatted for awhile as I sought to calm her and alleviate her concerns. Conversation helped, but I could see that it wasn’t enough.

I took Susan to my bedroom and had her strip. Then we stood in front of my full-length mirror. We made eye contact in the mirror as I told her how beautiful her pregnant body looked. I told her that pregnancy enhanced any woman’s sexuality. The changes in her body testified to her very sexuality, I said.

I rubbed my hand over her swollen belly, pointing out that it was evidence of her very womanhood, demonstrating as it did the success of her fucking her man. I caressed her enlarged breasts and spoke of the milk already being prepared to nurse the baby she would bear. I could see her nipples harden both in the glass and as I looked down at my hand and felt the weight of her breast in it.

My touches and talk were turning Susan on, so I proceeded, moving my hand down to her pussy. I watched her face in the mirror as I caressed her slit, soon feeling moisture leak out to slicken her swelling lips. It was time for the next phase.

We moved to the bed and I masturbated Susan. I took it slowly so the sensations could saturate her body, gradually building toward a peak. When she came, it was intense, her body bucking with pleasure.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she thanked me for giving her such intense pleasure. I suggested that we both needed sleep, so I stripped and lay down beside her. We soon drifted off, snuggled together in slumber.

[Via http://ltlez.wordpress.com]

Martini Mondays!

Queer Fresno is bringing the community another great event, Martini Mondays at Laughing Buddha in the Tower District. Take advantantage of this cool lounge night out with a couple of drinks, some great food and good friends. It starts tonight and will continue each and every week. See you there…

[Via http://queerfresno.com]

Help!

Call me crazy. Okay…so K and I have only been talking for about three weeks. BUT if feels like so much longer. Probably because we spend so much time around each other. I’ve literally only spent the night away from her three times since I’ve met her…three times in three weeks. I know…I know. She always asks me to stay…and who wouldn’t want the warm sexy body of their woman of interest next to them all night? SO anyway…we kinda decided that we needed some time away from each other. Although we enjoy each other’s company, we don’t wanna get on each other’s nerves. Afterall…it’s only been THREE weeks. So tonight starts the break. I’m fine with that. It was MY idea to begin with. Here’s where I have the problem: I called her at 10:19 because I hadn’t talked to her all day. She answered. I asked her if she was busy. She said “kinda sorta”…asked me where I was,  told me she would call me back and asked me if I was gonna be up. It is now 11:55 and I haven’t heard from her. NOT that I expect to hear from her all the time but what’s really bugging me is what the hell is she doing this late? How is she too busy to talk to me? Am I overthinking things? I mean…really. Even when she’s with her friends she talks to me.

I know that I have trust issues. I’ve been trying to work on that…but really…what am I supposed to think? She’s not officially my girlfriend…but we have both said that that’s what we’re aiming for. So…even if she IS with someone else can I be upset about that…since we’re not official? Because I’m pretty sure I would be hurt by it. She said she’s not a cheater…but it’s not cheating if we’re not together. Ugh. I’m driving myself insane thinking about this. And the killer part is that I’ve only known this chick for three weeks. I’m not in love or anything…I just really want her…I want her to be mine. I’m selfish. Boo hoo!

Maybe I’m just emotional because I’m currently entertaining mother nature. That’s a possibility.

[Via http://shanninsideout.wordpress.com]

Fuzzy Feelings OF DOOM

Crushes are like Gremlins.  They start off small, cute, fuzzy, and completely harmless. This summer my friend Monica,* like most teenage girls in eighty degree weather, wore a tanktop. It clung to her flat stomach and gorgeous chest and I thought “Hot, I wish I could get my body to look like that.” See that? Small. Harmless. Self-centered. If I wasn’t busy freaking out over my sexual orientation I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

Then the Gremlins start talking to you and you are forced to acknowledge their existence. All my wonderful platonic conversations with Monica were getting interrupted by this annoying voice in my head that went “prettyprettyprettyprettysmartniceprettymmm”.  It just wouldn’t shut up.  ”Oh, you silly gay girl you.” I said to myself. “You have a straight girl crush. Get over it, now, for she is in a relationship with a man and wants no part of your wonderful woman love.”

Warm, furry little feelings. That’s how crushes are. At first. They may even stay that way and, if you’re lucky, disappear from whence they came.  But most of the time they get fed after midnight and transform from warm, fuzzy feelings into a raging monster in your head going “OM NOM NOM WAAAAANNTTTT.”

Monica pinned me against a wall this Halloween.  ”Hit on the Lesbian for Attention” is a favorite game of most of my female friends. The rules are simple: boldly flirt with the Les and say “Just kidding” or laugh when you’re done to make it Straight and Funny. Bonus points if you initiate some kind of physical contact. Guys have to notice for you to win. I am annoyed by the principle behind this, but honestly I can only get so angry when pretty girls are running their fingers through my hair so I haven’t really put a stop to it yet. When Monica tried it?

This may or may not be a sexual innuendo!

And that is how it’s been pretty much EVERY TIME SHE TALKS TO ME since then. Which is every day at school and most days outside of school. For months. The Gremlin of a crush has grown to disastrous proportions! I have fought it valiantly, but to no avail.

We are both in our highschool drama club. This weekend the entire club will be taking an overnight trip to a theater festival. She will be in my hotel room. And my bed.

I had a wee bit of trouble focusing today.

*If you think her name is actually Monica you are more gullible than I am.

[Via http://questforme.wordpress.com]

Furry feelings OF DOOM

After freaking out with a mania that borders on hysteria actively questioning my sexuality since the age of five, I reached a decision:

I am a Fucklabelsilovewhoeveriwantian.

And if “whoever I want” happens to be “women” 99.99999% of the time–

Oh well

Lesbian? What lesbian?



Speaking of which,  crushes are like Gremlins.  They start off small, cute, fuzzy, and completely harmless. This summer my friend Monica,* like most teenage girls in eighty degree weather, wore a tanktop. It clung to her flat stomach and gorgeous chest and I thought “Hot, I wish I could get my body to look like that.” See that? Small. Harmless. Self-centered. If I wasn’t busy freaking out over my sexual orientation I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

Then the Gremlins start talking to you and you are forced to acknowledge their existence. All my wonderful platonic conversations with Monica were getting interrupted by this annoying voice in my head that went “prettyprettyprettyprettysmartniceprettymmm”.  It just wouldn’t shut up.  ”Oh, you silly gay girl you.” I said to myself. “You have a straight girl crush. Get over it, now, for she is in a relationship with a man and wants no part of your wonderful woman love.”

Warm, furry little feelings. That’s how crushes are. At first. They may even stay that way and, if you’re lucky, disappear from whence they came.  But most of the time they get fed after midnight and transform from warm, fuzzy feelings into a raging monster in your head going “OM NOM NOM WAAAAANNTTTT.”

Monica pinned me against a wall this Halloween.  ”Hit on the Lesbian for Attention” is a favorite game of most of my female friends. The rules are simple: boldly flirt with the Les and say “Just kidding” or laugh when you’re done to make it Straight and Funny. Bonus points if you initiate some kind of physical contact. Guys have to notice for you to win. I pretend to be annoyed by this for the principle of it all, but honestly I can only get so angry when pretty girls start run their fingers through my hair, whatever their motivations. When Monica tried it?

This may or may not be a sexual innuendo!

And that is how it’s been pretty much EVERY TIME SHE TALKS TO ME since then. Which is every day at school and most days outside of school. For months. The Gremlin of a crush has grown to disastrous proportions! I have fought it valiantly, but to no avail.

We are both in our highschool drama club. This weekend the entire club will be taking an overnight trip to a theater festival. She will be in my hotel room. And my bed.

I had a wee bit of trouble focusing today.

*If you think her name is actually Monica you are more gullible than I am.

[Via http://questforme.wordpress.com]

Here is an idea for the pro-abortionists…

This is for those who have sex and after conception occurs, the mother or father or both decide they don’t want to go through with the pregnancy i.e. they choose to have an abortion.

Now here is my idea… mark the date on your calendar, the date of the abortion. Then, each following year have a “death-day” party or better yet, a …

“we-had-sex-irresponsibly-but did-the-responsible-thing-to-cover-up-our-irresponsibility” party.

Then we could invite all your friends and relatives who supported your “responsible” decision, and you and your friends can party and have more irresponsible sex so you and your friends can have more “responsible” abortions so you can have lots more “we-had-sex-irresponsibly-but did-the-responsible-thing-to-cover-up-our-irresponsibility” celebrations!

Yes! Don’t you think that we should celebrate our irresponsibility and lack of accountability? The Liberals sure do!

[Via http://professordendy.wordpress.com]