Choosing Lesbianism

May 8, 2020

Lesbianism is another choice. It’s very fashionable at the moment to say that everything is genetic, but it’s a choice that I made quite consciously. I don’t have any problems going to bed with men, don’t dislike it, don’t dislike them. I could choose, and with women I was able to get on with my life and do my work, and I’m not sure that I would have been able to do that if I’d been heterosexual. I feel like I didn’t make a problem for myself, I made a solution. I knew I never wanted any kids. It would take up all my time because I would have to do it properly.

Jeanette Winterson
Interviewed by Libby Brooks for the Guardian, Saturday 2nd September 2000

two women living together

October 6, 2018

Zhao Kailin

‘Lesbian invisibility does have some advantages. In the big cities of Egypt, two women living together as ‘flatmates’ would not arouse much curiosity,’ Laila said – ‘though that would depend to some extent on their choice of district.

‘Neighbours would first of all want to establish whether they were prostitutes and would probably quiz the bawwab, the doorman who watches all comings and goings in Egyptian blocks of flats. If satisfied on that count, they might then imagine other explanations for the girls’ presence – quarrels with parents, etc.

‘They would think of anything else but lesbianism,’ Laila said. She recalled how much one lesbian couple had been adored by their landlady. ‘I wish all my tenants were like you,’ the landlady told them, suspecting nothing.

Brian Whitaker
Unspeakable Love: Gay and Lesbian Life in the Middle East

as lesbians

September 29, 2018

I think that, as lesbians, we can all agree that we were unexplainably fascinated by Pin-Up women and had no idea that this was our early call to Lesbianism.

Golden Lesbians

Two girls kissing

February 4, 2018

Two girls kissing and it’s not a sin
If there are girls who like girls in Hell, how bad can it be?
I wish I were brave enough
to pray with any certainty
but G-d
if you’re out
thank you for making her mouth so soft
thank you for leaving me here to wonder at the marvel of her hair in the sunlight,
the mystery between her breasts beckoning to me
with the gravity of a galaxy,
a miracle –
Her heartbeat blesses my palm
warm as a prayer
and I know
there is holiness on her lips I drink it like the third cup of wine
there is nothing to forgive oh G-d
Blessed art thou who makes no mistakes
You made me to love her
I close my eyes and

Two girls kissing and it’s not a crime
You can cuff my wrists until the steel draws blood
and I’ll pretend I don’t know
how the metal feels
biting down on raw frustration
I’ll pretend I never liked the angry copper tang,
the crimson tribute to my mother’s tears
You don’t get to know a damn thing
You can beat me with every truncheon and excuse you’ve got
’til I’m dizzy and bruised and half as scared as you
and I’ll hit back this time
with any part of me that moves –
I guess I never learned my lesson
but I can’t be the bigger person if I’m dead
You can throw me down on the concrete precinct floor
and rape me like it’s 1967
and walk away zipping up your pants like fifty years don’t mean a thing
And I will do what we have always done
Scream into the night
until my crazy dyke bitch lungs burn like revolution
and spit in your face
and hurt where I am hurting
And ask her to kiss it better

Two girls kissing and it’s not a disease
You reek of bleach and I know
there should be bloodstains on your white coat
Your needle doesn’t scare me Doc I’m just a broken record
for most girls kissed on a single sunny Saturday
bathe me in hope and confetti let the white walls breathe this chemical romance
won’t fix my leaky kitchen-faucet brain
I am not trapped in my body because it is wrong I am trapped
in my body because you run electric currents through my brain
and tell me this is for the best
Go ahead and cut me open what do you think I am a mylar balloon? no
I won’t break you can play I Spy with my insides and we’ll all get nostalgic
Unzip my genes and tell me why my eyes are blue
so you can touch me with your latex minions and the whole apparatus in a room
with no windows I will grit my teeth
and disappear into my headache
where my veins are full of nebula and I am kissing her

Two girls kissing and it’s not a disaster
read my palm the life line approaches fate like an asymptote
and does not touch – a stranger on a train
with a suitcase full of potential we could go off the rails
at any moment do you see what I am saying
I am not a tragedy
you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming into your parables
CAUTION girls who kiss girls you are mortal
just like everybody else
and whose fucking fault is that?
Kiss me karma like a pistol on the temple
I’m not going anywhere my dirty feet grow roots in the thawed and stolen earth
you know what
if I die kissing her let her fingertips write my epitaph
Here lies a happy woman

Two girls kissing and it’s not an invitation
what about us made you think we wanted company?
So maybe a girl kisses girls and boys because she wants to
so maybe a girl kisses boys because she doesn’t know any better
and her skin is just another thing that doesn’t belong to her
Not today we are doing just fine with my hands on her hips
her glorious fermata pressed against my thigh
in the darkness
How horribly human you are with your grubby little fingers
you want to touch her and me and everything and you don’t even feel
it’s a shame I pity you
getting drunk on symphonies that don’t belong to you and you can’t even
taste them
The world bends itself beneath you and you don’t even
keep on stumbling out the door and down the sidewalk I don’t give a shit
she is kissing me I am kissing her
what about us made you think we needed help?

Two girls kissing and it’s not a commodity
you buy a girl like a café americano and she tells herself
My body is a cup of coffee
so she doesn’t have to live inside it
while you fuck her
you call her cunt and slut and Barbie girl
stripped waxed plucked shaved beaten
into submission that’s what they want to see
they want to see her suffer until she tells herself
not to struggle anymore it’s not worth it
I want to watch you with another girl they say
My consent is worth another hundred bucks she says
my consent or my next meal what the hell kind of choice
is that
so they kiss each other like sharp teeth and opiate addiction while
the camera
masturbates into a checking account
it’s not fair it’s not
it’s sicker than I could ever be I want to scream
Leave them alone we are not your desperate plastic fantasies
not your victims
who kiss each other like dead fish
When girls kiss girls the sea draws closer to the sky
her cloudy eyes send a thousand languid kisses falling reckless and yearning to the earth

Two girls kissing and it’s not a joke
My name leaves your lips like a spitball and I feel it prickle
on the back of my neck
I am not a pair of cheap sunglasses you try on at the drugstore
just to watch your skinny eyebrows wiggle in the mirror
Every time you squeeze yourself into my Doc Martens for a laugh
there is another girl
walking barefoot and afraid
who laughs like broken glass at the joke that isn’t funny
and you wonder why she’s bleeding
and you wrap her in silence and overpriced lingerie
(this is how it’s supposed to feel)
and you tell her Iphigenia this is the best kind of love
Go ahead and laugh
she is safe now
your words are beads of sweat running off my shoulders
the muscles ache but someone must carry your guilt
Go ahead and laugh
what the hell do I care
when I’m the one who gets to kiss her?

Two girls kissing and it’s not a threat
this is a public bathroom not a battlefield
Why would I want to hurt you like I’ve been hurt?
I’m not asking you to love me
I’m asking you to let me love myself
and her
but for your sake I’ll keep my eyes on the floor chin tucked hands shaking I
my best revenge is the lipstick mark on my cheek

Two girls kissing and it’s not a phase
We were kissing girls and writing poems before you knew
how to wash your dirty laundry
We will kiss girls when we are silver-haired and senile
and covered in newsprint
we will fade with soft footsteps into a history for Someday
there will be stories about girls kissing girls like there are stories
about men killing men
on the evening news
There are girls kissing girls on planets we haven’t heard of yet
in farmhouses and penthouses on city blocks and airplanes
Take me to the center of the earth in your bedroom where it all started
and ask me about Lilith and Eve
In the beginning G-d created light
and darkness
and they kissed each other like two girls at the top of the Ferris wheel

Two girls kissing and it’s not an imitation
I am trying to be a person not a man but what’s the difference to you
girls kiss girls in cargo shorts and muscle tanks and button-downs and boxer briefs
girls kiss girls with fauxhawks dreadlocks crew cuts leg hair like a healthy forest floor
G-d grant me the strength
to love my ugly girl self
the way it deserves to be loved
girls kiss girls who look like boys whatever the hell that even means
girls kiss girls who look like girls who kiss boys they walk among you
and smile like a secret to themselves and to us
the girls who love them and ourselves
I am learning in this tremulous thawing spring
there is no wrong way to be a girl
there are a million fish in the sea and stars in the sky and girls who want to kiss
you too

Two girls kissing and it’s not an apology
the body knows fear it is written in the neurons
but shame I have outgrown
I will kiss girls on subway platforms on dance floors in backyards in bedrooms
in dreams
in closets if I must
this is my world too you know
It’s absurd and egregious the polar ice caps are melting
like our sticks-and-stones martyrs the brothers who kiss brothers
the Mediterranean hungers for another refugee Andromeda
help us
help ourselves we need answers so we grow them in makeshift flowerpots
on the windowsill you perfect succulent I will name you hope
here’s the deal I will feed you love poems and damp earth
every morning
if you grow big and strong demanding
vibrantly to be alive
I could use a reminder or two I am alive for better or for worse
open up my ribcage let the ghosts out let them sing through my bloodstream
I hear you my sisters can you feel my heart beating
to tell your stories
I hear you world telling me to hold my breath
I will not hold my breath
and wait for you to change your mind you paint me
into a kaleidoscope of atrocity
and my love is precarious geometry
Something’s gotta give and I’m giving you
the fragile pulsating love-hungry self
I keep behind hardcovers and barbed wire and scar tissue
I’m giving you the truth:
Two girls kissing
and it’s

El Grosberg
Two Girls Kissing

…I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don’t really resent it.

Vita Sackville-West
Letter to Virginia Woolf 21st January 1927

rather be alone…

June 20, 2016


I had never thought I had much in common with anybody. I had no mother, no father, no roots, no biological similarities called sisters and brothers. And for a future I didn’t want a split-level home with a station wagon, pastel refrigerator, and a houseful of blonde children evenly spaced through the years. I didn’t want to walk into the pages of McCall’s magazine and become the model housewife. I didn’t even want a husband or any man for that matter. I wanted to go my own way. That’s all I think I ever wanted, to go my own way and maybe find some love here and there. Love, but not the now and forever kind with chains around your vagina and a short circuit in your brain. I’d rather be alone.

Rita Mae Brown
Rubyfruit Jungle

A Girl and her Bike…

June 17, 2016

Woman and Bicycle


Apparently I had failed disastrously to distinguish between ‘lesbianism’ as an active erotic drive . . . and ‘lesbianism’ in the political sense . . . : a mode of eXistence devoted to subverting the whole set of oppressive, phallic assumptions at large in heteroseXist society. .   Far from interpreting the whole thing as the passionate Defence of HomoseXuality I intended. . . she has taken the whole thing to be an attack! . . . in fact the very opposite of the ‘Feminist Lesbian Novel’ she apparently lectures on in her ‘Women’s Writing Course’ . . . where she once told me they also hi-jack, eXplode and dismember certain rabidly ‘decadent’ nineteenth-century teXts on grounds of heteroseXist hypostatization, phallocentricity, pre-post-modernist recuperation and the like. . . . Yes, come to think of it, a white paperback by someone called Monique Wittig – couldn’t see the title – was poking upside down from her rucksack.

Christine Crow
Miss X or The Wolf Woman

More Sexploitation…

February 16, 2016

BareBhind Bars

Bare Behing Bars those gloves are a worry...

Bare Behing Bars
those gloves are a worry…

Bare Behind Bars Hold her down...

Bare Behind Bars
Hold her down…

Bare Behind Bars the girls soaping up

Bare Behind Bars
the girls soaping up

Love Poem to a Butch Woman

October 11, 2015


Deborah A Miranda