Lesbians Who Fuck Men

“Cause nothing stands between us here
And I won't be denied” ~ Possession, Sarah McLachlan


Dear Sally Sunshine,

You are crazy.

Ok readers, I will refrain from addressing myself in the process of addressing you. It just adds extra layers to the crazy. I will, however, admit my lizard brain has been on a long sojourn, i.e. the creative force has not been with me. You’ll have to excuse me, removing the moldy structure at the crux of my existence was more difficult than anticipated.

After having my sexuality snacked on like a bag of Doritos, today, humbly I walk toward you with only one candle left burning- an empty vessel, formless but on the verge of a discovery. Lovers who’ve basked in my sexual duality (bisexuality) beware. I am wandering into the oblivion. I’m all up in your face and fucking up the game.

When I came out to my family and friends in 2002, I came out as a lesbian. I had a serious girlfriend, I was active in the LGBT community, I had been to Gay Pride and the Gay Church, I took communion with other queers, and I had gay books, movies, and crushes. I was eager to move from my hometown to step further, publicly, into my sexual identity without the threat of being “outed” professionally. I could not foresee myself being deeply in love with a man in the future.

There were some men who I slept with in the spirit of charity. I remember driving to meet Mercy Fuck Mark who was nursing some raw wounds surrounding a brutal break-up with his lady love. I took up a Venus mantle and touched him (read: screwed him) with tenderness in an attempt to release him from his tortured thoughts. My good deeds did not go unnoticed. A cute little blonde thing flirted her way right into my arms the night before I left Mercy Fuck Mark in the fetal position sucking his thumb.

If there were men, then, I did have the unfortunate habit of falling for their lady friends. Maybe it was the hug that lasted a little too long or a flushed-faced conversation that pushed me over the edge. This is not to say I haven’t enjoyed certain men and their cocks and/or companionship at different intervals in my life. Over the last few years, I have mainly been involved with men, but that wasn’t a conscious choice I made. There just simply weren’t any women in my area code that I had more than a passing interest in.

Overtime, I took to calling myself a bisexual- it seemed like the most ambiguous label given the cold stark reality of who I was fucking (both men and women). This theory of defining one’s sexual identity by gender preference at a given moment is misleading. The truth of our sexual identity is far more complex than who we go to bed with.

Within our erotic identities, we also contain emotional identities and transpersonal/political identities. There are infinite possibilities. Coincidentally, during the time of my feminist “coming of age”, my sexual desire for the same-sex intensified. Now, this is not a defense of “political” lesbians (i.e. women who only have relationships (sexual or otherwise) with other women as a form of protest against the patriarchy), but, it is an acknowledgement of the subtle nuances between the personal and the political. It might be fair to say, my politics (women’s rights) was working in tandem with my desire. Yes, one could exist without the other, but they blended quite well in the same vein. Lest we forget, still, beyond all the intellectualization, I wanted to eat pussy.

Since there are plenty of lesbians who are not feminists and have no interest in “woymn’s lib” and there are plenty of straight girls who are feminists, political lesbianism has been dubbed a thing of the past. Yet, the label still has societal relevance. When a lesbian is told by parents she must be a lesbian because she was molested by some family pervert (even if this is not true) or she has a huge load of resentment toward men in general they are invoking the old “the personal is political” view as an explanation for their daughter’s same-sex attraction. This is offensive for a number of reasons. The parents are basically not acknowledging their child’s identity. They are inferring that the child’s an eternal victim, unable to sort out their own desires or identity. This is an effective way to devalue a child’s sense of self, unless, of course, she is willing to call bullshit and has the language available to express it.

In a sense, all labels are ludicrous attempts to contain the very complex structure of personality. Because, all identities have a certain finality associated with them, we become prisoners of the stamp. The term “bisexuality” represents a valiant effort define the indefinable- a free-flowing sexuality with a willingness to experience deep feelings of love and desire for either gender.

Sally Sunshine, alone on your own little journey, who do you love? That is the question of the hour. Or, more precisely, who will you fuck?

In the words of Lisa Loeb*, “Do you fuck girls anymore? Do you fall gracefully into bed with the same sex? I don’t know and I don’t care.”

Well, maybe, that wasn’t her exact phraseology, but, world, listen up, I’m still a lesbian.

Your faithful hermit/servant,

SallyS



*Lyrics: Do You Sleep? : Lisa Loeb