weston culture » lesbian

Ain’t no party like a country L Word Party

trish — Tue, 12 May 2009 06:03:47 +0000

You have to make your own fun when you live in the country.

Fortunately we were aided in our fun-making this past weekend by one of our friends hosting an L Word Party. As a self-confessed tragic of the television show, I just had to attend.

For those who may not orbit in the lesbian (or pop culture) universe, The L Word was a television series about a group of LA ladies of a Sapphic bent. Its sixth and final season was screened in the US earlier this year.

The L Word is significant because it portrayed “women who identify as not straight” (as one high profile woman put it) as everyday people with complex, inane, yet likable lives. For the first time in television history, these characters were played out in an ongoing series, rather than just bit parts in heterosexual dramas. Sure, anyone who has been in a dyke community knows that The L Word was not truly representative of the diversity of the culture, but the producers and writers of the show generally portrayed a group of women who, while flawed, were women you wanted on your team.

So an L Word Party is something I see as deeply embedded in “what it’s like to be a lesbian circa 2009″. I can’t imagine it happening in ten years as the show, like DTWOF comics, explored issues of its time: gay marriage, censorship, parenting. It was also styled in a very LA way, so I can see us exclaiming “Look at what they were wearing!” in ten years and wondering why they raided the costume department of 1979 Dallas for this noughties drama.

Ahh costumes… which brings us to the L Word Party – country Australian edition. What does one wear to an L Word Party? A couple of dozen women turned up at the property, which had been decked out as two of the sets from the show: The Planet and the Arts Centre (albeit regionalised for the party). The Arts Centre came complete with po-mo installations such as a bowl of lemons entitled “Family” and yart from local creatives. But the theatre of the night was certainly provided by those who came in character. We had a couple of Alices, a couple of Tashas, a glamour Tina and a pregnant Tina, a couple of Danas, a couple of pregnant Maxes, a Tom, some Shanes (who kept ducking out all night), a funky Kit, a Joyce and a Candace, and – how could we forget – a Jenny. Of course, the evening would not have been complete without its gracious host, the very glamorous Bette.

Highlights of the night included an L Word quiz (which exposed those who really had watched the series one too many times), re-enactments of key scenes (sometimes re-scripted for effect), and a local edition of The Chart.

The Chart, which was introduced into the show by the character Alice, was a wall-sized diagram that showed the interconnectedness of lesbian liaison. In the show, it illustrated how there is seldom more than two degrees of separation between women. Real-life versions of The Chart linking up local lesbians have been done on the internet and in coffee houses the world over. I remember thinking when The Chart was introduced on the show that it was so true, you could link up all the women by who’d slept with whom.

So it was surprising when The Chart from the party consisted of lots of little orbits of names but very little interconnectivity. I wondered if it was because we didn’t know each other and were from different places. Maybe it only works in localised communities? Whatever’s at work, it was fascinating, especially with a few “I didn’t know you slept with her” bringing whole new dimensions to relationships.

I write about this party because it illustrates what it’s like to live beyond the ghetto and how people can be brought together through common interests. Sure, I may not be bestest buds with everyone but I did feel a shared sense of experience, a common language and an acknowledgement of the values that I hold dear in my life around openness, diversity, acceptance, and joy. And I doubt I would experience that in the city, where it’s so easy to keep the same group of friends and also become very blasé about living free.

And it’s probably why, despite all my kvetching about how dreadful the last season of The L Word was, I am grateful that it was produced. It gave us stories that captured our hopes and fears, our joys and heartbreaks, and for us to gather around and say, “This is us. We exist.”

Apparently, Audre Lorde said

trish — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 11:36:07 +0000

Apparently, Audre Lorde said,

“When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.”

Thus spake the woman who took the name, Gamba Adisa, which apparently means “she who makes her meaning clear”. And it was clear. Lorde educated many feminists (particularly white feminists) in the language of oppression that crosses gender, race, class and sexuality. Strength, vision, no fear, power. So simple. So powerful.

Farewell to lesbian feminism

trish — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:02:18 +0000

Guest blogger, Carolyn Ride, is wondering whatever happened to old skool lesbian feminism.

Of course all you sisters went to the International Women’s Day Rally on the 7^th with the theme “women demand justice” didn’t you? Don’t lie, you didn’t. Let’s face it, the lesbian feminist wombyn stereotype wearing a labrys necklace and waving a placard is dying if not dead.

Lesbian feminists had their glory days in the 80s and 90s. They ran communes and women’s dances. They showed women could do anything. (If they were sound engineers or graphic designers, they showed women could charge other women anything too). They ran the women’s refuges and crisis centres when no-one else cared, wrote weirdly wafty alliterative books – thanks Mary Daly – and even out-argued socialist women in meetings.

As a major force in non-mainstream politics, lesbian feminism had to end. Most took the personal is political thing way too far; even debating whether lesbians should give up their boy children to avoid “putting energy into men”. Having spent so much time at the coalface of gender relations, they overgeneralised women as victims. Lastly, I think they just got co-opted as they got older. It’s hard to argue your lesbian feminist purity from a six-figure government adviser job or a tenured professorship.

If you are one of the few lesbian feminists left flying the lavender flag, thanks for paving the way for the next lesbian generations. But now it’s time to accept change. Young dykes and queer women want explore polyamory and porn or gay marriage and gaybies for the same reason you wanted to escape it: to have the choice. Get to know some of them. (You might meet them at the IWD breakfasts women do now instead of rallies). Just remember: bisexuality is not a disease, sex trade doesn’t automatically equal slave trade, and intellectual rigidity is not intellectual rigour.

Of course, this play nice rule applies to the opposition too. If you’re one of those so-called radical queers who whinge that sex-negative lesbian feminist types are oppressing you, toughen up! It was probably your mother who made you feel ashamed of your desires. Sheila Jeffreys is not your mother. And yes, you may feel a negative vibe at some queer event from some disapproving 60-something women in fisherman’s pants from Lismore who don’t “get” the queer, femme, switch, boi, burlesque thing you’re performing as genderfuck. That’s not discrimination. Getting beaten up on the train home by angry yobs; being blackballed by future employers because that’s your identity on your facebook page: that’s discrimination.

Again, get to know some of them. They might not all be so conservative after all! Try to be indulgent about the disapproval thing. After all, the generation after you will at best find you quaint and at worst rebel against everything you stood for.

Carolyn Ride is a writer and editor … who still has a copy of Lesbian Nation on her bookshelf.

Lesbians: The hidden victims of the Bonds clothing crisis

trish — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 01:11:47 +0000

Guest blogger, Carolyn Ride, is just realising the real impact of the Bonds layoff…

There are many tragic aspects to the decision this week by Pacific Brands (maker of iconic Aussie label Bonds) to cut 1850 Australian manufacturing jobs and move production to China.

There’s the effect on the workers and their families themselves; especially since it seems they had no idea it was coming. There’s the fact that (surprise!) they rewarded their CEOs for failure with multimillion-dollar payouts (AUD$1.86 million a year salary for current exec Sue Morphet). Then there’s the revelation that Pacific Brands milked millions of dollars in research and investment grants from the Australian government in recent years, just before pulling the plug. Oh, and the loss of yet another iconic Aussie brand to faceless, soulless globalisation.

And yet there are other victims in this tragedy unremarked by the media; untold millions of lesbians who will now officially have nothing to wear!

Bonds Chesty Girl

According to a straw poll of friends etc, I’m apparently a femme. Either it’s the dress fetish or my taste for ladies’ drinks that gave it away. Still, when I look in my wardrobe I have about four men’s “Chesty Bond” white Bonds singlets; not to mention two fitted black cotton T-shirts, two sports bras and three pairs of sports socks. They’re all Bonds products which fit lesbian fashion demands (simplicity, practicality, natural fibres, moderate price, mildly androgynous) better than anything else made.

I don’t know why this is, but only men’s Chesty Bonds singlets give adequate support for the braless bosom while equally able to cover up the straps of one’s comfy yet supportive 16DD Bonds cotton bra. (Just try to find a regular brand bra in larger cup sizes that doesn’t feel like a mammogram).

The indispensable Bonds raglan tee

They also make the only T-shirts I know that mysteriously make me look 20% trimmer and more muscular. They have been a way for women at a certain end of the Kinsey scale to look smart and stylish, yet classically lestastic, for decades.

They also answered the most important lesbian fashion demand of all time, the one that never changes: the ability to buy all your clothes, from underwear to jackets, in one section of any major department store. Thus, getting a whole season’s wardrobe takes only half an hour, leaving ample time for the electronics and outdoor goods sections.

Let’s face it, many Bonds products were already manufactured in China. At least, though, the company had enough presence in the Australian market to know its certain attachment to fit over fashion, durability and the need for the odd classic product that never changes. Much like the lesbian market.

But now? Even if the products don’t go downhill, I – like so many lesbians – am a world-class boycotter, so I won’t support a company which so obviously screwed its employees. Meanwhile, wild horses wouldn’t drag me into one of those Cotton On, Rivers etc chains that sell T-shirts that lose shape if you look at them harshly. And those singlets with giant, gaping armholes presumably meant to advertise the age and discolouration level of your bra.

I propose a general f*** you to Pacific Brands’ contempt for its employees, the Australian taxpayer and the mass of lesbian consumers that kept it going through bad times and good. Meanwhile, the entrepreneurial door is now open for any lesbian with an industrial sewing machine and the desire to make a killing in a very captive and very desperate market.

Carolyn Ride is a writer, editor and owns enough Bonds products to attend shareholder meetings.

What next? A lesbian Prime Minister?

trish — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 01:16:59 +0000

Why, yes, actually.

While the rest of us are still shaking our heads, amazed that the US actually has a black president, Iceland is pushing the social engineering envelope with the world’s first openly-gay Prime Minister being sworn in this week.

According to The Independent, “former air hostess”, Johanna Sigurdardottir, will take the reigns of a caretaking government until elections are held in two to three months. The popular pollie (with a 73% approval rating) was first elected to parliament in 1978 and it seems her role over the next few months will be to rebuild trust in her country after its recent economic collapse.

So, even in the nice progressive Scandihoovian countries, it’s the women who have to come in and restore civility when the boys break their toys and piss everyone off. Some things don’t change.

Anyway, it’s good to see the laydeez out there doing what they do best ie saving the world.

Now, where’s Penny Wong’s phone number? We need to have a chat.

Thanks to Neatorama

Farewell to lesbian feminism

Squeal! The L Word returns for its final season

trish — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 04:25:04 +0000

[Spoiler alert: Many rehashed internet rumours to follow]

After much internet speculation, and frantic emails between dykes asking “Is it true?”, The L Word began its sixth and final season with a splash on Sunday night (US time).

We’ve just finished watching the first episode where, yes as rumoured, Jenny meets her maker. (Although I’m taking bets that it’s actually a dream sequence of 99% of L Word viewers.) Besides the dialogue being a little more let’s-talk-about-our-relationship-therapy-speak than usual, the season began in fine form. We had the usual L Word Elements:

Ubiquitous girl-on-girl sex scene. Check.
Couples breaking up. Check. Check.
Couples getting back together. Check. Check.
Alice has an adventure in bad clothing. Oh. Check.
Couples breaking up again. Check.
Jenny being a bitch. Check. Check. And … Check.

The season’s opener also had, wait for it, a car chase! Do the words “Jumping the Shark” mean anything to the L Word writers?

You’ll be glad to know that the car chase scene gave me the opportunity to say my favourite L-Word-viewer phrase, “I just don’t feel represented by their portrayal of lesbians as [insert offending characteristic eg skinny, rich, or now, law-flaunting women]”.

Heck, car chases may be all the rage with Curve/LOTL-reading, big-city lesbians but not for us simple country folk. The closest we get to law breaking is when we cement our crazy cat lady status by taking in that poor little stray cat that’s been hanging around and thus exceeding the ‘two cats per household’ local council bylaw.

Perhaps that’s why we love The L Word – it gives us the chance to believe that by definition of our sexuality, we really are beautiful, dangerous outsiders with exciting, important lives.