Straight Talking

Coming Out of the Woodwork

2007-04-03T22:31:00.000+01:00

I’ve mentioned before how much I hate the invention of profile sites. I should perhaps also meantion that I’m on them all - Bebo, Myspace, Facebook, HI5, Tagged, and some I don’t even remember registering for. I have a turbulent relationship with them; I object to people I don’t really like/remember spending hours pouring over my photographs and friends. However, I also do indulge in a touch of web stalking.

As much as I dislike grudgingly accepting as my ‘friend’ people from years ago who type all their sentences in capitals, I also do like making the occasional find. I mean people who I went to school with who are now big gays like me. I’ve found lots already. Some, who are obviously less subtle about their persuasion, messaged me on Gaydargirls. Others send me a message asking if I remember them, and a quick glance at their profile confirms my long held suspicions, and the same is obvious for them.

When glancing through the majority of profiles, I don’t really look out for much. But with certain people I’ll look out for a few things. Most obviously ‘In a relationship with…’, or ‘interested in…’. However an interest in, for example, woman’s rugby is usually a telling factor. Their friends, their photos (and where they’ve been taken) and whatever other information on their profile is part of my fact finding mission.

It’s led me to wonder a few things. Of all the people who I’ve since made contact with on these sites, not one of them has surprised me by coming out. We were all slightly ‘odd’ at school. We hung out with the alternative crowds, were either excessively nerdy, or excessively bad. We also all knew each other in some way, even from just nods in the corridor. I’m not saying I was terribly popular at school, but I knew lots of people from different years.

I obviously, although not intentionally, picked people up on gaydar years before any of us even really knew.

Clean Air Prevails

2007-03-29T20:05:00.000+01:00

The smoking ban draws near. Indeed, there are less than 100 days till the much-discussed ban takes effect. On July 1st of this year we will be smoke-free. Smokers will hate me, but I’m secretly a little bit pleased.

From a purely selfish point of view, I don’t like having stinging eyes in a club because someone has wagged their fag in my direction. I dislike people coming to the bar in work and blowing their mouth full of smoke in my direction before demanding a VK. I don’t like waking up and smelling my clothes – which, ultimately need to be power cleaned to get rid of the stench of a habit that isn’t even my own.

Indeed, it’s a personal choice whether or not to smoke, and smokers are perfectly entitled to. However, I don’t, so don’t force me to. I like garlic, but I try not to breathe it on everyone. I like singing, but I don’t gulder at everyone all night long (unless, of course, you are at a concert in which I’m singing, in which case you will get what you paid for).

I’m not up on any high horse. I’m not bashing anyone’s right to puff. However, maybe I’d be more sympathetic if smokers weren’t so damn in your face.

You Big Pansy

2007-03-27T19:57:00.000+01:00

Artist Paul Harfleet has come up with an interesting new way to draw attention to homophobia – if a little stereotypical. He plants pansies.

Originally his project was to plant pansies at all the places he had experienced homophobia, but more recently he planted one in London, at the spot which David Morley, bar man, was brutally killed by a gang. The Pansy Project is appearing as part of the London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival.

It’s maybe not the most useful thing to do to combat homophobia, but it certainly draws attention to the sad fact that all gay people have probably experienced homophobia at some time in their life. If we planted pansies in every place, we’d have one bloody big garden.On

Sunday April 1st Harfleet will be manning a stall of pansies placed alongside the bookstalls near to BFI Southbank (London). From 12-4pm he will be on hand to distribute the flowers and chat about The Pansy Project to interested passers by. I obviously can’t drop by, but anyone nearby should definitely check it out.

Pink Pounds… Lots of Them

2007-03-25T23:54:00.000+01:00

62 million pink pounds to be exact. That’s the latest figure for spending on civil partnerships since their introduction in the UK. That’s rather a lot of matching pink tuxedos; tiered cakes with two women on top, and celebratory invite cards. We’re obviously a generous lot.

Of course, it could also be that we don’t have several children already by the time we decide it’s time to make the whole thing legit. It could also be because lots of older, established professional couples now have the opportunity to mark their relationships.

Next time I get an invitation to attend one of these ceremonies (not that many are forthcoming), I shall be considering my position carefully. The same research shows that ceremonies are costly for guests too, with guests spending an average of £700 on gifts, travel, hotels and food. That’s a hell of a lot of money for a wedding.

We’re obviously open-handed. That’s the stereotype of gay males anyway, but given my current financial situation, I’m slightly more miserly. I may just be sending my apologies, and a set of towels.

It does not strike me as coincidental that no homophobic government ever accuses us the LGBT community of not contributing to society financially….

Gordon Doesn't Like Us

2007-03-22T12:37:00.000Z

Gordon Brown's budget for next year has been announced. He's pranced about with his red briefcase, spitting on his neighbour, who just won't leave. He always gets the bad jobs nowadays - and no one likes him that much anymore. But it's ok - because at least he can penalise the gays (albeit indirectly).

Disregarding the taxes on income, petrol and air travel, lesbians come off worse than gay men. We all know gay men smoke at the very least 2 packets of 20 cigarettes a week, drink at least 4 glasses of wine and 10 or more double measures of spirits. And that’s a pretty conservative estimate. However, according to the BBC’s trusty budget calculator, they will only be £24.18 worse off than this year.

Lesbians, on the other hand, smoking only 1 packet of 20 cigarettes, drinking 4 glasses of wine and 10 pints in their week will be £33.53 worse off than this year. Seeing as we also all come from the middle of nowhere (yes, I know we’ve all moved to the city, but where did we grow up? Yes, in a sexually repressed and homophobic country village), the road tax will penalise us – we have to go home to visit our parents. This road tax is only adding insult to injury – going home is bad enough thank you. Does Gordon not like us much? Does he sympathise with the gay men? And if so, does his wife know?

The next time a gay man offers to buy you a drink – take it. It’s going to be a frugal year.

On The Move

2007-03-15T12:18:00.000Z

Oooer. These gays really are getting everywhere. Not only are we obviously taking over the music industry in order to corrupt innocent Christian types, but we are even taking over the public transport industry.

It’s a well known fact we have almost single-handedly kept a variety of taxi firms from going bankrupt by insisting that we are picked up from the very door of gay bars and clubs tucked away in the middle of nowhere, likely on a one way system that means it takes an extra 10 minutes to get home. But now ever buses are pro-gay…. Whatever next?

I suppose I shouldn’t really be that surprised, I once met a gay guy in a bar who was not only a gay bus driver, but also all 8 of his friends where too. I really wouldn’t have had Arriva down as a gay-friendly employer, but I guess it must be.

Possibly someone in their marketing department swings the gay way too, as several double Decker buses now have an embarrassingly large advert for none other than Stonewall. (I tried very hard to get a photograph, but the damn thing kept moving, and it out ran me.) Very commendable sentiments, no to discrimination at work. I do wonder if those poor little old ladies know what the bus taking them to church is actually promoting.

Next – a rainbow line on the London Underground called ‘The Soho Line’. C’mon Captain Ken Livingstone! It would be wonderful for the 2012 Olympics…

Beware Gay Music

2007-03-13T12:54:00.000Z

One wouldn’t want to become corrupted by ‘gay’ music, apparently. But fear not, because now ‘Love God’s Way’ have a comprehensive list of bands you should avoid, lest you become corrupted.

I’ll admit that Scissor Sisters, KD Lang, Elton John and The Village People may have large gay fan bases. But, I can’t say I’ve seen many conversions solely due to their music. I may try playing them every time I see a hot girl...

Some of the bands on that list are admittedly the staples of gay clubs across the world. But some are just a bit odd, I mean – Jay-Z is gay music? Don’t tell him that. Frank Sinatra? Thousands of heterosexual couples will now have to rethink their first dance at a wedding.

The ‘Safe Bands’ are even more bewildering. I understand that P.O.D. are a Christian rock band, but I haven’t seen or heard of them since I was about 13. Cyndi Lauper’s music is both camp, and has rather obvious lesbian undertones (‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’?) Blondie’s classic ‘When I Think About You I Touch Myself’ is hardly extolling Christian virtues, and was one of the songs I picked up at my first Pride. Blondie has even spoken to lesbian magazine, saying she enjoys lesbian sex as part of her 'pretty exotic lifestyle'

Evanescence, well, yes, I guess they are supposedly Christian. But Amy Lee is still hot. And, more importantly she lists her influences include Bjork – who appears on the ‘Gay Bands’ list!

I’m rather glad I’m not a parent faced with so many contradictory feelings when trying to protect my child from the demon heterosexual. But I’m even more glad I’m not their child.

Safe Sex For Dummies

2007-03-11T18:04:00.000Z

I’m back, and still taking as mature an attitude towards safe sex as usual. I’ve just smeared one of the free packs of lube onto my flat mates door handle. I’m just nice like that, and I know it will gross her out.

Lesbians don’t appear to take a terribly serious attitude towards safe sex, if the attitudes of LGBTA members are anything to go by. The initial confusion as to why we gave them condoms was cleared up in two syllables ‘sex toys’, and was then laughed off. Unravelling, inflating and flicking of the condoms followed. The lube was then similarly violated, ending with the dental dams being licked for their ‘flavour’ and then generally derided as being a rather disgusting form of safer sex.

Gay men are constantly pushed condoms, check the bar and door of any gay club. Looking around I guess maybe the lesbians in most clubs are too ugly to pull, but they could at least massage their egos by providing some of the elusive ‘girls’ packs.

It’s true that girls are in a relatively low risk category in terms of STIs, I’m sure my mother would be thankful. But we still aren’t invincible. One wouldn’t want to catch something worse than the flu from a partner.

London Baby Yeah

2007-03-06T18:19:00.000Z

On St. Patrick's Day this year I shall be living it up in London, Soho to be exact. I'm already planning a 'I'm Irish, buy me a drink' night. The fact that it's Mother's Day the day after is slightly cruel. I might position my phone by the bed so I at least don't have far to crawl.

I have to say I do think the idea of a gay village in every city is a great idea. Not only does it provide a safer area for LGBT people to go out in, but it means your hair doesn't get ruined on the way to another bar.

While Soho and Canal Street are official gay areas, it seems most cities have pockets of gay bars. Even Belfast. It's always struck me that gay bars are always out of the way, not on the central streets, and nearly always in clusters of at least three.

In Belfast you don't have far to walk between The Nest, Mynt, Union Street and the Kremlin. In Leicester, Rainbow and Dove, Amber and Bossa are all practically next door, and a 10 minute walk away you have Quebec, The Village and Streetlife.

It's not quite Soho, but one can always visit....

Closet Case

2007-03-04T18:57:00.000Z

Ruth Kelly has always courted a certain amount of publicity. She’s Tony Blair’s right hand woman, she’s a member of Opus Dei (extreme Catholics, as seen in the ‘Da Vinci Code’) and, she does look like a bit of a dyke.

I know she has kids, and a husband, and is a religious type. But really, she just looks like a stereotypical gay, short hair, dowdy trouser suits and even a low voice. The woman could be confused, and not in a gay teenage way.

Appearences are rather deceiving. Despite being Communities Secretary and Minister for Equality, she has yet to vote in favour of gay rights. Seems a bit silly to be a bigoted Minister for Equality. Bit silly to go to war because George Bush does too.

Her latest proposals are to end our hallowed gay bars. It’s not equal if we refuse to let straight people in. Maybe if Ms. Kelly went to a gay bar she’d see that it’s not that we don’t let them in. We do. I have a straight male friend who pulls females more often in a gay bar than in a straight bar. University societies have bar crawls which end in, and include gay bars and clubs. Not discounting the masses of fag hags who often outnumber the lesbians in any given bar.

We like straights who like us. If they want to dance and get merry while paying extortionate prices for Smirnoff Ice, they are welcome.

Please Ruth Kelly, come out (to a gay bar).

My Carbon Footprint

2007-02-18T12:09:00.000Z

I have quite small feet, corresponding to my small stature. A website has worked out my impact on our environment to be smaller than the average carbon guzzler. I admit I’m not environmentalist really. But according to this website I’m not a bad citizen.

I’m a vegetarian; I get the bus, walk, cycle or get the train everywhere (unless I’m at home, where I make up for the hours spent in the rain waiting for the bus by whizzing about at speed). I recycle glass and paper, and considering the amount of alcohol I drink, that is lots of glass. My current living space is terribly well insulated (to the point of killing my herb plants).

This environmentally friendly living isn’t too bad, as long as I don’t have to commute for too long in the cold and rain. I don’t mind recycling, as long as it doesn’t take much time. I have been a vegetarian for years, so the cows are safe.

My only problem is that I fly. Lots. Yes, yes, it’s very bad. But I’m not a big fan of boats, and I do live on an island, and have to study in the middle of another island. I think the new airline taxes should be variable. I’m so good for most of the time, VERY good. So why should I pay expensive airfares for my guilty trips home?

Taxes for most things depend on how much money you have. It makes sense then that environmental taxes are variable, according to your carbon footprint.

Not that the government ministers who fly lots and lots and claim it back as expenses care about my walks in the rain, my time spent cramped in a bus or trying to work a cycle lock....

Smoochy Much?

2007-02-15T12:13:00.000Z

I won't let February 14th pass totally ignored. I could make you all sick by detailing the lovely day that I had, but that isn't like me. For the nosey among you, I woke up in the arms of my lovely, went to a few boring lectures, had a luxury dinner cooked for me, and went to a comedy night as part of Leicester Comedy Festival.

For the bitter singletons, it's not too late to send an Anti-Valentine's to others like you.

Yes, it's commercialised, materialistic, couple-centric and a waste of money. I know. But it's a good excuse to get spoilt when Christmas has past and your birthday is a few months away yet.

Flowers are still the most pointless gift ever though.

Replaced By A Puppy

2007-02-13T12:07:00.000Z

Regular readers will know about my issues with my parents discovered that their daughter is a rug muncher. An update on the situation is a little too depressing. Ranting abounds, but only at sporadic intervals (usually when I least expect it). I’m still being urged to change my sinful ways, I’m still not the cherished daughter they knew and loved. I’m still a lesbian (if a slightly irregularly blogging one – sorry).

My dog, a beautiful Yorkshire terrier I grew up with, pass away in January. He lived a long and fulfilled 18 years, experiencing as much love as 2 children and parents could bestow upon his little ginger whiskers. Not living at home, it hasn’t fully hit me yet, but no doubt it will.

In reaction to this shocking (but not unexpected) event, my parents have indulged their wishes in buying a terribly cute Yorkshire terrier puppy. Aside from my slight annoyance that they bought a puppy after I’d moved to university, I am happy. A puppy! A little miniature doggy to love and take for walks and cuddle and feed (and clean up after, and pay for….)

Needless to say my parents are benefiting, as every dog owner does, from it’s unconditional love and general cuteness. Yes, indeed, it’s quite replaced me. Their every thought is of it’s needs. Phone calls are filled with it’s daily activities and they are training it to behave itself better than their daughter ever could.

Not that I’m jealous of the dog. He is after all terribly cute (see picture), and it’s not his fault – he couldn’t choose his owners, in the same way I couldn’t choose my parents.

But surely there is a better way to replace me than with a dog? What are they trying to say?

Northern Ireland: Insular Evidence

2007-02-11T12:06:00.000Z

Many people assume that Northern Irish people are joking about how insular our wee country really is. They imagine knowing everyone in your town or school is simply a metaphor for being quite sociable. No, really. It’s true.

In Leicester, people with my dulcet tones are few and far between. Indeed, I’ve only come across 4 Ulster people. That’s not many I know, but considering the University I go to is off the beaten track for most N. Irish people, and while popular in England, I was the first person to go to it from a school with 90% of pupils continuing into further education.

The estate agent that showed us our future house for September 2007 was from a small country town called Cookstown – and went to school with my cousins, my uncle was his doctor. A student I served at the bar in the Student’s Union was babysat by my Godmother. A male student I met on the plane on the way back after Christmas was in a French A Level class with my gay best friend in another country town, Omagh. A girl who sings in my choir from Belfast, her best friend from home has played the organ for me at a church service a few years back.

Maybe I’m just well networked or something, but that can’t be normal. With a population of 1710300 are we all related? Can we ever escape the ties of our wee country?

One Shoe Only

2007-02-08T11:54:00.001Z

I’ve recently discovered that while many people have no problem with gay people, they do have a problem with gay people in relationships (with other gay people). I’ve had some individuals who I would have counted as friends go right off me as soon as I entered into relationships. I know people who are acquaintances that have no problem with my sexuality – but they still won’t ask about the other half.

Like they’ve just realised what being gay actually entails, they suddenly remember a vague feeling of disgust as same sex relationships. One lesbian is fine, but two? I don’t think they mean to be hypocritical, I am happy to understand that some people find it hard to adjust to seeing two women together, but I do find it difficult to understand why it’s easier to accept a lesbian singleton.

Akin, to the lesbian repulsion at bisexuals - we are generally fine with them when they want to date the female sex, but as soon as they get a boyfriend they are frozen out of our social circles quicker than Birdseye’s fish fingers. In the same way a group of embittered singletons will say their close friend ‘changed’ when they found a partner and settled down into a ‘boring’ relationship, that we’d all rather like for ourselves.

Is it just an excuse not to remember your own loneliness, or are heterosexual’s inherent homophobes, whose thin veil is lifted only when faced with actual homosexuality.

Being Out...

2007-02-06T11:51:00.000Z

Is over-rated. It hasn’t changed the quality of my life greatly. It hasn’t changed my friends. It hasn’t changed anyone’s attitudes to me, or has it made me a better gay.

Especially when you are a teen, coming out seems to be the Holy Grail, something to aspire to and prepare for. I know it was something I really wanted – the opportunity to be honest and not have to lie. Having come out, I’m still not telling the whole truth to my mother. Nor do I think it would be a terribly good idea.

Many gay people, and in particular gay young people, are put under much pressure to come out. My advice is, put simply, ‘Don’t’. It’s not something to rush in to, it’s not probably not going to make things easier or better, and it’s not necessarily going to change anything.

No fireworks, no cheers, no orchestral accompaniment or birds singing everywhere I go. A beam of sunshine doesn’t follow me. People’s heads don’t spin round as a flounce past with an obvious spring in my step.

Life is pretty average really – in or out. Same difference overall.

LGBT History Month

2007-02-04T00:57:00.001Z

It’s February, which I hope you have noted. That means you can turn over the page on your Angelina Jolie/L Word calenders if you have forgotten thus far. It’s also LGBT History Month, which, in my opinion, you should also note.

I’m no expert on LGBT history, but despite what some rampant Christians say, it’s obvious that our prevalence and contribution to history has been great. From the Stonewall riots to Sappho, more and more we are having the non text book side of history told.

LGBT History Month claims to want to put an end to the legacy of silence that has dogged the history of the gay community, and gay history makers:

Now it’s time we began to deal with the legacy of silence. This is not only in the interests of LGBT people but of our whole society. Silence breeds ignorance and distorted imaginings. From these come, at best, embarrassment; at worst, hostility and hate crimes.

Not too much to add to that really, check out the website at http://www.lgbthistorymonth.org.uk/ and have a browse of the past, join in some of the events and tell your friends.

We can only hope it improves the future.

Something Kinda Ooooh.

2007-02-01T00:01:00.000Z

I try very hard to seem like the hardened dyke I try to appear. I regard girl bands with a keen suspicion and sceptical eye. I shun reality television that doesn’t provide me with a nice lesbian. I will stand in a gay bar, soberly, not dancing. A few drinks sorts that particular issue out.

I desperately try to pretend the music they play in gay bars is not really to my taste. It’s just for all the fags… But secretly I love it. I really love it. I’m a total camp queen about music. Although I hasten to add I have a wide and varied taste, honest.

Queen to Scissor Sisters, The Communards to Erasure, right through to girly bands like Girls Aloud – I love it all. My toes are frantically tapping and the tune, and every single word, is thundering through my brain like a queen dashing to the dance floor.

I’ve tired correctional therapy – but even Ta Dah on repeat couldn’t sour me of ‘I Don’t Feel Like Dancing’. I admit it, I do, I do feel like dancing like a drunken lemming in pants that are burning. I am guilty of performing the arm-in-the-air-wiggle-and-woo before diving head first into a taxi. The demon alcohol only causes me to loose my inhibitions and openly enjoy camp feasts

I shyly download giga bytes of my guilty pleasure, and wiggle in my seat as I play it.
I suspect other lesbians feel the same, for when soberer than normal, I witnessed that same glazed look in sober lesbians. We are all conditioned; we happily listen to KD Lang and various other women with guitars. All the while pining for something with maracas and a snare drum.

Working Girl

2007-01-25T11:50:00.000Z

I have a job now – it’s not glamorous, but it’s not McDonald’s either. It’s as bar staff in the Student’s Union. Not quite some swanky cocktail bar, or even a gay bar, but the pay is pretty good, and the hours not too shabby. I can just about reach the spirits, and I’ve already done my first 6 hour shift. Yes mummy, I was in the presence of drunk people and loud music for a full 6 hours, and I actually kind of enjoyed working.

The pervy part of me is looking forward to the hot tub party later this term. That should make up for the fact no one warned me about the cleaning up afterwards. The amount students drink is quite frankly amazing, and more amazing is the amount they buy and don’t drink – spilling it on themselves, on the floor, down the stairs, or just abandoning a full pint on any flat surface. Yes, cleaning up afterwards wasn’t as romantic as pouring pints and the like. However, at least no one was there to see me prancing about with a bin bag and a tub I called ‘Tubby’.

More importantly, I’m still as stubborn as anything. I took a kind of strange delight in telling my mother that I had a job, and then the next day I regaled her with tales of how late I was home, how drunk men oogled me, and how I was held at knife point until I poured the perfect pint of Snake bite (well, maybe not the last one). She hates the idea of it, I know. But even if I was getting my full allowance, I now want something to fall back on. It’s not much, but I don’t have to justify what I spend it on. My money, my life.

The Chart

2007-01-23T11:36:00.000Z

Christmas has most certainly been and gone, thankfully, for another year. New Year seems an age past. Yet only now am I enjoying the delights of the L Word, series 1 and 2, which my girlfriend got as a present. Yes, that’s 30 episodes of gay goodness.

I don’t love the L Word, and I don’t hate it. It’s not a bad TV show, the concept is clever. It doesn’t represent my friends and I, and it’s obviously a glammed up version of someone’s experience at some time. Many people have damned it because it doesn’t reflect a certain part of their life – it doesn’t include a butch, they all have too much money, they are all too pretty and wear skirts and make up. It’s not meant to represent exactly the lesbian community, because if it did we would complain anyway.

One thing it does get pretty much bang on, is the tangled web of relationships that most of us seem to have behind us. Not that sexual conquest is anything to be proud of, but it would appear that lesbians can be just as bad as the reputation our male counterparts get. We’re all connected, and while it’s not necessarily as easy to bed someone in real life as it is in the show.

To demonstrate this I did a doodle of what my chart would be like. Sure as anything I’m connected to my best friend in less than 6 moves. She is dating A, A once dated B who dated C who dated D – I was in a relationship with both C and D.

This may be because the community is so small, because we’re afraid of what we don’t already know, or maybe we’re just all slappers.

The Other Half / Partner

2007-01-21T11:15:00.000Z

It’s a well-known joke that lesbians rush into relationships like a sports car on an open motorway. We bring the cat, personal belongings and emotional baggage on the second date. By the third date, it’s hardly worth going out seeing as we act like a straight married couple on their golden wedding anniversary.

The reason for this phenomenon is less clear. Some think we just fall easily, and that’s partly true – I know I’m guilty as any of that. But that isn’t, in my opinion, the sole reason for our over hasty progression of relationships.

It’s because we’re all really too shy to call our lovers our ‘girlfriends’. That, for a start, immediately identifies us as lesbians to all and sundry. Perhaps we’re also just too bashful to admit that we have a ‘fancy woman’ or ‘sweetheart’ (just cringe worthy terms).

By rushing into a serious relationship, we can avail of the gender-neutral terms – ‘partner’ and ‘other half’. We can safely talk about our relationship amongst people we don’t know, saving the embarrassment of being forced to come out to them. Like a secret code, only like-minded lesbos will pick up on our subtle word use.
We’re just terribly clever really.

Who Needs Sat Nav?

2007-01-19T21:23:00.000Z

Funny how things turn out really. I was in London today for meetings (at the Poetry Society, ooh la la). Of course seeing as someone else is paying my expenses I tend to spend some time mooching around shops and the like. I just love aimlessly wandering around a city and looking at the people and places you end up. Thanks to my sense of directly, I usually end up where I started, and relatively unscathed.

Today my gaydar led me directly to Soho. Perhaps aided by the fact I’ve been there before (but just the once). There is something quite liberating for a recently de-closeted lesbian to wander about one of the world’s most famous gay areas. Also, for one who last saw it in a drunken haze, seeing it in the harsh light of day was also interesting, and just goes to show my drunken memory is really quite clear considering.

Many people wonder why we gays need to create a ghetto for ourselves, surely it’s just a barrier to the world? Well, yes, but no. We’re everywhere now – everywhere I turn I see gays in positions of authority – and more importantly, more are out and proud than ever before. So what if we are too sissy to walk far from pub to pub, surely that’s sense more than fear.

LGBTA trip to London this term? I think so. I can impress them all with my detailed and intricate gaydar navigation system.

Job Hunting

2007-01-16T21:37:00.000Z

The job hunt begins; quite why any firm wouldn’t want an eloquent dyke like myself is beyond me. The fact that I don’t really like people is slightly restricting, but I’ll possibly find something. If anyone knows of any high paying, low effort, flexible and exciting jobs in the Leicester area, just let me know a.s.a.p.

I’m sure some of you are thinking how easy I’ve had it in the past. You really don’t need to tell me, as many people have before. I am totally aware of this fact – I’ve had a simple and easy life. I wasn’t doing a paper round at 12, washing dishes at 15 or selling shoes at 17. I’ve never had to worry about where my money came from, I’ve never not had enough money to go out and enjoy myself. I know all of this. However it doesn’t help when the only low paying jobs I can find that I might like all insist on prior experience. Thanks mum.

Otherwise, being back id good. I don’t think my mother is really that happy at me being back – she’s been on the phone making disapproving noises already. What she doesn’t know and won’t find out won’t hurt her. I’m not exactly an irresponsible student anyway, and if I was, everyone needs to go mad every once in a while. Indeed, given the Christmas I’ve had, going mad seems quite an attractive option. Maybe after my exam.

Off to revise…

Escape.

2007-01-14T10:16:00.000Z

Bye Bye Parents. Hellooooo Streetlife!

Yes, escape is iminent. My bags are packed (perhaps a little too eagerly), the essays are printed off, and I am having one last cup of soft water tea before heading back to Leicester.

Obviously, given the circumstance, I'm not that upset about leaving. Yet part of me is a little sad to leave behind my home comforts - my ford ka, my tv and dvd player, my bed... But I've proven in this holiday at least that I'd be willing to sacrifice all of it in order to be me. Even my parents have to respect that.

So, I've fitted as much as possible into my case. Let's just hope it isn't £30 over the weight limit like last time.

Don't Mention The War

2007-01-11T19:42:00.000Z

And, more importantly, don't mention the fact I'm a big raving lesbian.

Things are better now. Or, if not better, more bearable. My parents have entered into the ‘If we don’t mention it, it isn’t true’. Which, quite frankly suits me. Part of me is disappointed that they took it as badly as I always assumed they would, I wanted to be proved wrong.

Maybe I was right because I know them better than I know most people. Maybe I know them better than they know themselves. I know them well enough to realise that they are mainly upset that they didn’t know me well enough to spot this fully themselves.

I don’t presume that my mother will be embracing the gay community, I still expect to have to fabricate certain situations (like getting cash back in Canal Street at 2am). With time I expect her to get over it, but that’s up to her now. I can’t push her to accept something, or I’ll just dig her heels in deeper than before.

Harmony is hardly restored, and I’m not even sure if it ever will be fully. But she’s stopped smashing plates, and it’s a start.

Sorting It Out

2007-01-08T21:29:00.000Z

Many thanks to those who have sent me advice and good wishes at this time. It is much appreciated, even if I know it all already, reassurance is a blessing none the less. I’m a bit strange right now, somewhere between happy (even ecstatic) at not having to lie anymore, and totally distraught. This is certainly not an ideal way to come out, and my parent’s reaction has been as bad as it could be.

The story is a relatively simple one. They found a letter I was writing to my girlfriend among my papers and notes. Maybe I was too lax leaving it lying around, maybe it was fate and I couldn’t have avoided them. But I’m not one to dwell on the maybes, it happened.

My parents are at rock bottom, and I’m not lying or pretending to help pick them up. I’ve had every possibility thrown at me, I was influenced, it’s a phase, it’s me being rebellious, I’ve been indoctrinated, I’m being immature, I don’t really know what it means, I’m imagining it, I just haven’t met the right man: if it’s a feasible answer to them, it’s been chucked at me.

I’ve had the hysterics, the suicide threats, the guilt, the denial, the blame, the hate.

More practically, this will affect me in a more dramatic way than simply causing a fuss at home for a while. My parents are entirely adamant that I will not get any money from them. I don’t know if they expect that that will make me change, I’ve been quite honest – if I have no money, I’ll still be gay. They think I’m not thinking ahead, but I am. I’m already looking for jobs, I’m already considering how to reduce my expenditure and ensure I get my degree, money or none.

They claim I am being unfair when I’ve told them that if they will cut off my finance, I will move out and continue my degree with whatever money I can. But I don’t think I’m being unfair: I have never had a choice in choosing my sexuality, I can not repress it, I have no choice in whether or not they support me.

Really, it’s up to them.

May Day (and not the first of May)

2007-01-06T18:35:00.000Z

It would appear my parents have discovered I'm gay. In the words of many great people in such situations:

'Oh shit.'

Da Girl Band Code

2007-01-04T23:52:00.000Z

H, of ‘Steps’ fame has come out of the closet. I’d never have guessed. But, he’s a bit slow. He follows on from Stephen Gately (Boyzone), Mark Feehily (Westlife), Lance Bass (N Sync) and Andrew Kinlochan (Phixx). It’s always been clear that boy bands needed a camp, girly one, with blue eyes and nice hair. But what girl bands have a tank top wearing, spiky haired lesbian? (We aren’t mentioning Tatu here)

So maybe a girl band isn’t the perfect career choice for me. I can sing, and I like to think I can sing bloody well… But I know my voice isn’t suited to ‘Sugababes’ classics, and I still groan at the play on words in ‘Girls Aloud’ *groan *

Maybe karaoke is as close as I’ll get to pop stardom. Music is one of those industries where it’s more acceptable for men than women to be gay. One of the few out and proud lesbians is KD Lang, followed closely by Melissa Etheridge, but many of the others are obscure and unheard of. ‘Horse’ is a gay icon, but who outside the lesbian fold has actually heard of her? Alex Parks was a lesbian, who achieved some mainstream success, but few people, other than lesbians, actually remember who she even was in the first place. (And it pains me to admit that.)

I’m no pop expert, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but what girl band or pop diva is gay? (With the exception of a possibly bi P!nk) They may flirt with it, knowing fine rightly the gullible lesbian public, obviously coaxed by silver hot pants, will run out to buy it.

That’s another thing – how many hetero men actually like girly pop music enough to go out and buy it? I would imagine the answer is very few. Yet Jessica Simpson is prancing around in hot pants and pouty lips, Britney (when sober) is shoving her cleavage in my face, and Christina is straddling a chair.

The conspiracy deepens…

Shameless

2007-01-02T23:38:00.000Z

I'm not often totally shameless (except perhaps, after I've had a few drinks). I like to think of myself as the shy, retiring type - although those who know me would likely totally disagree. I'm sorry, but I'm a publicity whore.

Please feel free to pop on over to the shiny Lesbian Lifestyle blog to nominate me for Best Lesbian Blog of 2006. I might cry if you don't.

In other news - my Sylvia Plath essay is sending me quite neurotic. In an extraordinary burst of creativity I did over half of it in an afternoon, who knows where it all came from. In punishment for my nerdiness, I've been given a mighty migraine, so apologies that this post is somewhat short. Typing in between throbs isn't nice at all.

My mother also keeps asking why I keep doing essays on feminism in literature. I just told her it's on the course (for the next 3 years). My mother hates feminism - it ends in the same letters are the hated lesbianism.

Happy New Year 2007

2006-12-31T16:25:00.000Z

I’m sure I’m not the only blogger using the eve of 2007 as a reason to reflect on the past year. 2006 has been an interesting year for me – I’ve finished school for good, and hopefully left behind some of the pettiness and homophobia that is all to present throughout the education system – with both teachers, non teaching staff, and pupils. I’ve moved to England for further study, and it’s so far been everything I thought it would be. The independence afforded is something I highly recommend to all lesbian/gay young people who feel their home situation restricts their social life.

Aside from the educational and practise elements of the past year, I think I’m in a very different position now than I was last year. I try not to use reference points to judge the state of my life, because I think that nostalgia will always leave the judgement unbalanced.

This time last year I wrote:

The future is also unbelievably humbling. There is nothing to bring a lump to your throat quite like the confusion it presents. This time next year, I have no idea what I’ll be doing, where I’ll be. Change doesn’t necessarily scare me, but the passing of time does. I’m not worried about the future – just uncertain.

Again I can say, this time next year, I don’t know how my life will really stand. I don’t know what people will have moved into my life and changed it all, and I don’t know who will not be part of the life I’ll choose to live. I could claim I’m certain of the future, but if we do that it is certain that there will be obstacles to change plans.

I like to think that I’ve grasped 2006 as I said I would. For too long in my past I have failed to grasp what has since passed me by.

I wish you luck with whatever you plan to do, and whatever you do in 2007.

Just make sure you take time to grasp 2007.

At Home With The Bird

2006-12-28T16:35:00.000Z

For many LGBT people, Christmas and New Year can be a trying time. I know it certainly is for me. It’s the time when many people head ‘home’ – if you can call that place you grew up, that houses your parents and siblings ‘home’. It’s the time of year when you have to ring your loved one quietly at 3am, and sneak stamps from the book to send them letters.

At least, that’s my experience so far this Christmas. I know it’s terribly scrooge of me, but I am counting the days till I’m away from this place. It’s not that I don’t like home, and my family aren’t really so terrible, but it’s just hard to come back to the place where I have to hide myself again.

I often wonder how my gay friends really feel about going home, how they act with their family, and if they are counting the days as avidly as me. Not that I act differently, but you know what I mean. I’m not the same socialite at home as I am with a group of adoring friends.

I know some people have families who are accepting, and who they enjoy going home to. I’m a little jealous of that, but I don’t even really know how I’d feel if my parents weren’t how they are. I know there are also other people who, for a variety of reasons, have no home to visit – and as much as I might pretend I’d like that, I know that in my heart I wouldn’t like it at all.

It does seem a shame that you have to spend the campest time of year with ‘the folks’. Their enthusiasm for tinsel and ‘The Sound of Music’ just isn’t enough to replace my gay male friends.

Wherever you are spending your holidays, and whoever with, try not to throw a turkey in frustration. The bird has suffered enough.

What Lesbians Want

2006-12-26T23:39:00.000Z

Lesbians flirt, that much is usually true. Many lesbians flirt shamelessly, I have been on the receiving end of many shockingly bad passes. Some were quite funny, more often than not when they were meant to be serious. But I’m not talking about lesbians flirting with lesbians, or even straight women, I’m talking about lesbians flirting with men.

It does sound slight ludicrous when I think of it like that, but I am quite serious. Lesbians, like all women often flirt with men for gain. It’s one of the most simple formulae. Men want to help damsels in distress, even if the damsel has a skinhead and a pair of dungarees. Who do you call if you want someone to pick up that ridiculously heavy box? Probably not your favourite fag.

How does a lesbian flirt with a heterosexual male? The same way a heterosexual female does really. We’re all blessed with that ‘I want’ tone, I know I use it perhaps more than I should really. The poor men, even in the modern world, still feel bound by some chivalrous duty. Maybe they are just flattered at the hint of sexual tension with someone unattainable. Maybe they are just thick?

When I asked my girlfriend why she thought some lesbians flirt with men, she replied ‘Free beer’. And that’s partially true – men can’t resist trying to drink a lesbian under the table. So maybe there is no other reason than that they are just thick.
Whatever the reason they fall for it, lesbians know they fall for it.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-24T16:25:00.000Z

Merry Christmas my little bloggers. I trust in this season of goodwill, forgiveness and glutony, you will find it in your hearts to forgive my absence which I am blaming on just having gotten out of the way of blogging.

New Years resolution should perhaps be to continue blogging... I've come too far to pack this in now.

Home Time

2006-12-21T16:28:00.000Z

As you might have noticed I've finally found some time to catch up with my blog. Any of you who are aware that I study in England and live in Northern Ireland could easily attribute this to me being home for the Christmas holidays - and you're not wrong.

Various patronising adults who seems not to realise my age now have gazed at me sadly, preaching that the first time you come home for the holidays is the hardest, blah blah. As much as I'd love to prove them wrong by saying I am ecstatic to be home, I must admit that in many ways I fear they may be right. However I still express a slightly arrogant doubt that being chucked out of independent land back to parents 24 hour surveillance land will ever be particularly easy.

Perks of being home are quite materialistic - free washing machine, and woman to do the washing, posh food that isn't Asda Smartprice, posh food cooked and served, someone to hoover my room and generally clean up after me. These perks come at a high cost. I am expected to occasionally do the above tasks myself, and in payment for all of the above (and the finanacial support of the folks throughout university), I am expected to be at their every call, and my social life must be restricted, lest they feel I am enjoying myself too much. My friends are also vetted, and regular quizes on precisely what I do when I'm not under their watchful eye are a daily occurance.

What then does Straight Talker miss about England? I'm quite sure it's not the workload, the early morning lectures on a monday or the 5.30pm lectures on a Friday. It's quite obviously the social elements - new friends from different places, bar crawls with no parent standing with the breathaliser and demanding to know exactly why I am wobbling in at 4am. I miss my flat mates, my girlfriend, heading out with the LGBTA without having to lie about where I'm going. Playing football without my mother standing on the sidelines frowning.

What do I miss? Indepenence.

Leicester Gay Scene Guide

2006-12-19T00:01:00.000Z

I've finished my first term in Leicester, so it seems fitting that having already provided a guide to the gay scene in Belfast here, I figured that I would provide a guide to the gay scene in Leicester, where I now am for University. I must admit that as someone coming from backward Northern Ireland, I was expecting a much larger gay scene in Leicester, and was initially disappointed. However it’s my own fault for not going to a bigger city, and overall I am happy with bustling gay scene. The freedom afforded by my parents not breathing over my shoulder has allowed me to fully appreciate the bars, more so perhaps then I have ever done in Belfast.

Rainbow and Dove:
Have to say, I do rather like this place. Drinkies can be a tad on the expensive side, but Monday is ‘Pink Pound’ night, and that usually makes me wobble in a merry way. Recently refurbished (again), it’s quite classy. Voted one of the best pubs in the midlands, the bar staff are friendly to boot. Lots of camp classics to tap your toes too, and even the odd disco light. One of my fave bars in the city.

The Dover Castle:
Apparently the Uks oldest gay bar, and if too many lights are on, it looks it. Still, not half bad for a night out. Seems to have lots of resident drag queens who’ve gone OTT with the sequins. Has a reasonably sized dance floor, pool tables and drinks aren’t too very expensive.

Bossa:
Technically a cocktail bar. Very small, but on one of the main streets. Wednesday is half price cocktail night, so you can get a good deal. Yummy cocktails from a reasonably extensive menu. Bar staff have only been rude to me once (on my first night, the scum bag). Lots of little tables a la France. The Bloody Mary made my nose run.

Amber:
Rather classy little place, which hasn’t been open long. It can be expensive, but they often have offers, which aren’t bad. The toilet is a bit weird (in that you walk down a never-ending corridor to get there). Lots of comfy leather sofas and stainless steel, you know the type.. Us students tend to be slightly intimidated by the slightly older crowd. It seems to be a sip quietly place.

Streetlife:
Gay club – not bad if you’re sober, but maybe better if you’ve had a few. Big dancing area, but most people tend to just dance in the downstairs bar area. Drinks aren’t cheap, but then it is a club. Still amazed by the carpet in the dancing area, and the glitter on the walls, but overall not a bad place.

Anyone from Leicester may condemn me for not mentioning Quebec, Leicester’s other (smaller club), but I have to say thus far I haven’t been. When I have I’ll update this.

Home Comforts

2006-10-17T00:34:00.000+01:00

Prior to my previous post about the physical exertion that is running, I managed to tear muscle tissue in my leg doing just that. It would appear that, contrary to common belief, exercise is actually detrimental to bodily health.

However, my injury has allowed me some well-needed rest time. I suppose it may have been my body telling me that going out every night is not a good idea, especially when you have several novels to read.

Whatever muscle it is, it hurts when I bend the leg, so I did walk to Asda like I’d forgotten how to walk, but when a student runs out of Super Noodles at lunch time, it’s no laughing matter. Also, having invested in a can of beans (embracing my studentism), I realised that we don’t currently own a tin can opener. We have since rectified this by investing in Asda “Smartprice” utensils. Beans all round me thinks.

For all of you who are working hard at 9 to 5 jobs, and who fear I am over worked, worry not. I have two days off a week. I do about 14 hours a week in total.

Although I’m not too smug as I do seem to have a lot of outside work to do, I have to walk or get the bus everywhere, and I must admit to missing my home comforts.

Running *

2006-10-15T10:11:00.000+01:00

It seems to me there are two major types of lesbians – the hunter and the hunted. Those who pursue, and those who are pursued. These brackets don’t necessarily fit into any pre conceived butch/femme stereotypes, but I think it’s fair to say I’m usually the more passive partner in the beginning.

I seem to prefer to wait around till someone notices me, than taking the more proactive role. And this works for me. I’m not saying they are flocking around the block, but I get a few offers.

The thing that really throws me is when I am forced to do the running. I genuinely feel totally out of my depth. What do I do or say? Everything I seem to try makes me feel like an overgrown adolescent boy.

When I do the running it’s because I really like a person, as much as I like to pretend this isn’t the reason. My arms and legs grow to unreasonable proportions, my voice goes up a semitone, and I make a tit out of myself.

Am I doomed to just wait, and generally depress myself by embarrassing myself in front of the few people I really like?

*Seeing as I feel like an angsty teen, I can use angst sparingly in this post.

Read All About It

2006-10-12T02:11:00.000+01:00

For the first time in a while I’m going to do a slightly more serious post, yet again apologies for content that is lacking slightly. I guess my life has been pretty well shaken up recently, and it’s harsh to be grounded by the bigger picture.

It’s been easy for me to ignore the outside world, and I know many students do. With so much on, so much work and play to be getting on with, it’s easy to miss things like the news.

I’m running on empty at the minute – it comes from not actually having any food in the fridge, and my money draining out of my account faster than I should be able to stop it.

I’ve been trying to keep up with the news – I really have. But simple luxuries like a television are sorely missed. I want to be keeping up with the Northern Ireland news, as this is another crucial time for the ‘peace process’ there – with big talks, some big issues to be thrashed out, and a deadline fast approaching. I also want to start following my local news, about what’s happening in and around Leicester – the free paper on the bus serves me well for this – if I can get one.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the fabulously informative Pink News (http://www.pinknews.co.uk/), I fully recommend it as an excellent source. Perhaps shorter, yet still not bad is http://www.rainbownetwork.com/ - which isn’t the best for news, but has good reviews, scene guides and the like.

I’ve always been a bit of an anorak in keeping up with current affairs I admit. BBC News homepage all the way!

Talking About It

2006-10-10T02:30:00.000+01:00

I must mark ‘National Coming Out Day’ with a post of some sort. I admit to picking this up from Straight, Not Narrow, who are doing a great job at dealing with LGBT and Christian issues. Having met the Christian Union at my new location, I can confirm they aren’t much better than where I came from.

A survey from Advocate http://www.advocate.com/news_detail_ektid37377.asp shows that seven out of 10 straight adults in the United States say they know someone who is lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender. The online survey of 2,932 U.S. adults also found that 83% of those who self-identify as gay or lesbian consider themselves out.

Yet, more than half of those who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender said that concern about being the victim of hate crime remains a deterrent to coming out. Other concerns include rejection by their families and friends and the threat of losing their jobs.

I have mixed feelings about the concept of ‘Coming Out’ day. While I recognise the importance of honesty, openness and having a positive effect on people’s lives, part of me is still uncomfortable about this brash concept.

I can't pretend I haven't encountered a sort of snobbery between those who are out, and those who are not. In a community supposedly not defined by preconceived opinions and labels – why then is it difficult to come out to gay friends as not out?

There is also no rush, yet as National Coming Out Day comes round for the third time since I have known of it’s existence, I kind of feel like I should be taking some form of decisive action?

Stomach Pump? Beer Pump.

2006-10-08T19:28:00.000+01:00

It has been a while – things have been terribly busy in the world of Straight Talker. I have landed in my destination of Leicester, and have commenced my studies of English. There are a number of reasons why my blogs have been less regular, and study commitments are, at the minute at least, pretty far down that list.

One of the first things I noticed about my move is how brilliant being a student is. Fair enough you spend 3 years of your life accumulating debt, and if you come out with less than a 2.2, you may as well not have bothered. However it’s almost worth the debt for the cheap drink, the Domino’s pizza vouchers, and the fact you can just go a bit mad for a while.

I won’t go into how mad I’ve been, you know, in case you’d all hold it against me. I shall however divulge that my pennies are rapidly falling from my bank account. Also I’m showing that those of Irish descent really can hold their drink better than most. I say this as I gain the status of ‘Flat Alco’.

The reality of living away from home is hitting slightly. Yesterday I spent the day washing, building a washing line, shopping, struggling home with plastic bags of aforementioned shopping, ironing. Indeed – I think I might actually be a bit of a domestic at heart. My washing line in particular is something of which I am immensely proud. Who would have known a cupboard full of heating pipes could become such a beautiful piece of string art.

Anyway – I really should head to the bar. Pub quiz night tonight, and I really am a competitive lesbian.

PS. Are you earning so much you want to help fund my liver deterioration? See left hand side bar.

Zut Alors

2006-09-26T14:15:00.000+01:00

Bonjour ma petite bloggers!

Never one to be idle for too long, I write this from a table on the pavement outside my hotel in Srasbourg, France. I’m taking a quick long weekend before heading to university for some more serious study. I hope you are all suitably jealous.

I think as I get older I’m mellowing. When I was younger I never really saw the point of holidays – I got bored walking around hundreds of cold churches, I got bored sitting in the sun for too long, and I’ve never really been a shopping fan. However, I must admit I quite enjoy the whole ‘tourist’ thing nowadays.

I admit to be slightly ill prepared for this trip. I forgot to actually do any research on the city. It was a big shock for me to drive over the Germany – France border and find myself in Strasbourg – who knew it was so close to the German town of Kehl? I also didn’t know it had a beautiful river area known as ‘Petit-France’. It’s all so pitoresque it makes me a little sick.

Of course, I did google ‘gay Strasbourg’ to ensure I didn’t miss anything exciting.

Ma francais est tres out of practise. I’m sure I’m offending the locals merrily with my pigeon attempts, but at least I’m trying. I did get an A* at GCSE, it’s just amazing how quickly one forgets it all. Or perhaps, how irrelevant the French you learn in school really is in everyday life. (I have not once been asked about how to keep fit.)

So yes, I won’t make you think I’m sad enough to write loads when I’m meant to be relaxing.

Au Revoir….

PS. Don’t worry, I’ll be dropping the phoney French accent at the airport.

Belfast Gay Scene Guide

2006-09-17T14:46:00.000+01:00

As I prepare for pastures new, I thought I should give a quick guide for those beginning their journey in the small, but perfectly formed gay scene in Belfast.

Kremlin:
Belfast’s biggest and arguably best gay nightclub. Recently refurbished, it has a cocktail bar, upstairs sitting area, a small dance area and a larger area, and has another property attached to it which is opened on special occasions (‘The Shoe Factory’). Easily recognisable by the statue of Stalin. I’ve heard a number of horror stories about the door staff, but I’ve never had any problems. Drinks aren’t cheap, but they aren’t too bad.
Website: http://www.kremlinbelfast.com/

Mynt:
Formerly ‘The Parliament’ (Belfast’s first gay bar), also formerly Kube, now named ‘Mynt’ (not to be confused with ‘Mint’ in Bangor. Drinks a little cheaper than the Kremlin. Used to be a bigger rival to Kremlin, but now less so. Still attracts a good crowd and is worth a visit. During the day it operates as a pub and has good food.
Website: www.myntbelfast.com/

The Nest:
Formerly ‘The Custom House’ and ‘The Crow’s Nest’. Generally frequented by hairy old men. Quite nice for a quiet drink. The function room upstairs looks a bit like something directly from the ‘70s. Can’t really miss it seeing as it usually has a pride flag or seven flying outside. Tends to have an older crowd than the more clubby venues. Still not bad for a night out.

Union Street:
Owned by the same people as the Kremlin. Serves food and the like during the day, but is quite the trendy bar by night. Has an awesome fire during the winter months. Tends to attract a mixed crowd, and many people go there before Kremlin opens.
Website: http://www.unionstreetpub.com/

Forbidden Fruit at Milk:
Every Monday night is gay night, which means it’s a bit of a change from all the usual weekend haunts.

Other places you often find gays are the John Hewitt, the Appartment and Thompsons. Limelight also tends to be full of emo gays and the like.

So yes, spoilt for choice, off you all pop to Belfast.

When Art Went All Daring

2006-09-14T14:30:00.000+01:00

I’ve noticed a number of stories in the media recently about artists who are somewhere between breaking the law, being artistic, and being downright cheeky.

A German art student dressed as one of China’s ‘terracotta warriors’ jumped into a pit showcasing the ancient statues and stood still for several minutes, before being scooped up by security guards. He was released without charge because he didn’t damage any of the 2,200 year old pottery soldiers.

Elsewhere a Bristol based graffiti artist, Banksy, who has been creating witty and political statements on walls around the world, has opened an exhibition with an elephant painted pink as a metaphor for world poverty problems. He also captures headlines by adding his own interpretations to art exhibits, placing his own work among the displays. He's also been found replacing Paris Hilton CDs with his own remixes.

Is anti-establishment art the new black? When does it go too far? To what extent do these rebel artists actually need the establishment?

While I do think some of these paintings are rather clever, I’m still not entirely sure I would want one on the outside wall of my house. Even worse are the impersonators – one ‘grafitti artist’ spray-painted himself all over my town before being arrested. I tried to take a cultural view of his work, some of it wasn’t too bad – but some was poorly done and simply made a bit of a painty mess.

No matter whether you think it’s vandalism or art, it’s fair to say that this new breed of painters and artists has captured the imagination of a public for whom ‘oil on canvas’ don’t really appeal to anymore.

Packing

2006-09-12T12:33:00.000+01:00

When I say I’m busy packing for University, I didn’t mean it in quite the same way as Creepy Lesbo. I’m not entirely sure what my parents would say, should they spot me ‘packing’ a silicone contraption and a harness. Of course – that’s one of the reasons for moving away for study.

My mother is despairing still – why can’t I just pack nice pick t-shirts like she wants me too? Must I bring my boxers? Surely she can’t expect me to survive for ten weeks of a term without my tie collection.

While I am preparing to escape and burst out of a closet in Leicester in a scene reminiscent of ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’, from what I can see, other’s aren’t quite so sure of how to approach their new life.

Moving away to study ‘across the water’ (as so many N. Irish people put it), can be a daunting experience. Having to make new friends, keep up with academic work, and take advantage of cheap drink is enough to keep anyone busy. Perhaps coming out is another burden, but I believe a fresh and honest start is what I need. Yet, some gay friends of mine who are seemingly very secure in their sexuality; still don’t feel able to come out – even away from home.

I on the other hand, am not only packing, I’m preparing for my new beginning.

9/11

2006-09-10T17:13:00.000+01:00

I was touched to find this website commemorating the many LGBT people who died in the 9/11 attacks.

While many have used the anniversary of 9/11 to reinforce political views, I feel that this is not the purpose of the occasion. Instead it should be one of reflection for the people, gay and straight, who died. It should also be an opportunity to remember the bravery shown by many, and to sympathise with those who lost so much.

Sadly, many of the gay partners who lost a loved one in the attacks are still fighting to gain some form of financial compensation. While their loved ones died helping and protecting others, the country they left behind seems unable to help their partners, purely because of their sexuality.

Taken from the website I linked to above:

"Dedicated to:
The Lovers Who Awaken Each Morning
without Their Gay Patriot & Hero beside Them."

Carol Ann's Crowd

2006-09-07T16:46:00.000+01:00

I’ve always been aware that the arts appear to attract those ‘non conventional’ types, and by that I don’t just mean intellectuals, I mean dykes. A poet friend once reassured me that all poetry workshops and courses were full of ‘lesbians and vegetarians’, before feeling she had to justify herself by saying, ‘But I mean, I’m not gay.’

A recent trip to see Carol Ann Duffy read at Bristol Poetry Festival reinforced my view of the arts as a gathering ground for those who don’t find dancing to the Scissor Sisters the be all and end all.

I was mildly aware before the start of the reading that there were really far too many pairs of middle aged women for it to be an entirely lesbian-free zone. Sure enough, the lure of the lesbian-poet prevailed, and by the end of the evening, many women were cooing over Britain’s best-known poet – ‘Can you make it to Helen? It’s a Christmas present for my girlfriend.’

Even one person who seemed to have got the wrong end of the stick (she thought Carol Ann Duffy was a comedienne), was found trotting up eagerly with a fresh copy of “Rapture”.

Cynics may believe Mr. Blair didn’t want a lesbian poet laureate, but she is certainly the people’s-poet.

For those of you who are interested in lesbian-literature, Sarah Water’s latest novel – “The Night Watch” has been nominated for the Booker Prize. If you are sceptical of books, I recommend a recent article by the fabulous Jeanette Winterson.

As if you need anymore proof that the arts dabble in androgynous sexuality, just take a look at the front cover for the "Belfast Festival at Queen's guide" - in my opinion it looks rather like a promotional shot for "The L Word"

Student Life (hasn't even begun yet)

2006-09-05T00:38:00.000+01:00

I’ve been busy lately. I’ve had several letters regarding student finance, ‘fresher’s week’ and other such student related mayhem. I’ve also sent many letters of my own – it feels a little like I’ve spent my student loan on stamps.

I could go on and on in this post about how I feel top up fees are a betrayal by the government, but to be brutally honest I’m only back from the pub. It’s clear about what Labour did on top up fees. They said they’d never introduce them, and they did.

Tony Blair said government isn’t easy, and I presume it isn’t. However, he’s made student life not too easy either.

I’m still apprehensive about university. All the usual questions; will I make friends, will I fit in etc. I also think gay young people experience a number of other concerns – will I be ‘out’, will I make friends who understand, and will others hate me for being what I am.

I’m planning on being out – and forging a new life for myself away from my home and the concerns that come with it.

I may be leaving with several thousand pounds of debt, but maybe by being true to myself, this will be easier? The figures are still the same.

So yes, off to collapse into my beddie byes.

Choices

2006-09-03T17:19:00.000+01:00

It’s great to have a choice – but what exactly does your choice say about you?

I’ve been filling in a great many forms in preparation for my departure for University. As you might expect, one of the first questions asked on the majority of forms is my name. I usually fill in my full name, including my embarrassing middle name. I’m a stickler for tradition like that. But, before I even get to enter my name, I am asked my title.

Now, men don’t often get much choice, it’s ‘Mr.’ all the way. But women have a great choice when it comes to titles. Each form requests either ‘Miss’, ‘Mrs.’, ‘Ms.’, and one even asked me if I was a ‘Lady’ (although, Baroness was not on this particular list).

I’m not married, so that rules out ‘Mrs.’, but what if I was in a Civil Partnership. I have seen no guidance on this, are you a ‘Mrs’ is you are Civil Partnershipped? Perhaps someone can advise?

I think ‘Miss’ makes me sound a bit like an old spinster, so I tend to choose ‘Ms.’ Does this suggest I’m a bra-free feminist? Am I suggesting I’m divorced/independent/man hater/lonely? I am aware that the term ‘Ms’ is quite handy when officially addressing someone whose marital status you don’t know, but I know my own marital status. Which term then, am I expected to use?
Also – if I chose ‘Lady’, would the Queen write to me and complain?

0800 1111

2006-08-31T14:36:00.000+01:00

The NSPCC (National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children) has reported a rise in callers to their helpline to ask for help with homophobic bullying. In my opinion this is not because homophobic bullying is a new phenomena in schools, but more that young LGBT teenagers realise that it is wrong.

There was a 21% rise in calls to Childline about all types of bullying in the year up to March 2006. About a quarter of all calls to the helpline are about bullying of some form or other. LGBT youth feel unable to tell teachers or parents, and thus feel lonely and isolated.

Many teachers ignore verbal abuse of gay young people, passing it off as a normal part of growing up in a school environment. This may then escalate into physical abuse. All of which has a detrimental effect on LGBT youth.

The Liberal Democrats have produced three points which they think should be implemented immediately:

1. Homophobic taunts and name calling in schools should be challenged immediately by staff.

2. All schools' anti-bullying policies should be required to include measures specifically to deal with homophobic bullying.

3. At least one teacher in every school should undergo training which includes how to tackle homophobic bullying.

If you agree, sign the online petition to help young people like me who have called Childline in the past.

One.

2006-08-28T11:19:00.000+01:00

My sincerest apologies for my absence of late. Even Straight Talker needs a break once a year. And a year it has been – for today is the first birthday of this blog, and of my entire blogging career. I feel somewhat of a vetern.

I realise that this day last year I had few readers, if any other than myself. I posted the following, and I think I shall repeat it, as both new and old readers might need introducing to me, and to the nature of my blogging.

“It’s easier for me to be anonymous. Cowardly perhaps. But it would be rude of me not to give you some idea of the real me. I’m a pre-writer. That is, I don’t have a career in writing. Maybe I’ll tell you my name when I do, but for now names aren’t important. Think of me as one of the strangers you’ve met, whose name you missed.

So I live in Northern Ireland. Some believe it’s a country torn apart by it’s own people; maybe it is, but come see for yourself. Having been in Dublin once doesn’t count.

My town is medium – average like nearly everyone in it. It’s anonymous too, and full of insular people doing insular things. Forgive me for not dwelling on it.

I’m still at school – read some of my blogs – go figure. I write about what I see and what I feel. I take inspiration from around me, from my left and my right. I’m not a gay writer – I’m just a writer who is gay, who finds herself writing about gay things – maybe because she can’t talk about them.

This blog was born from my mind, and it’s relationship with the internet. It’s a mixture of ingredients, and it’s ever evolving.Someone once told me you see more of the real me through my words than any other outlet.

Read on.”

I am no longer at school – my schoolgirl career is now over. I will soon face a new set of challenges in becoming a student, moving away from home and meeting new people. I can’t wait to begin this new phase, so no doubt I will still find myself blogging about my life.

I may still blog, even without any readers. Yet the apathetic part of me thinks this may not be the case. I feel some kind of attachment to the strangers to read my anonymous blog. Thank you – all of you.

I said a year ago that this blog is ‘ever evolving’. I hope this is still the case.

Read on.

Beenie-Babies

2006-08-13T19:52:00.000+01:00

The rapper “Beenie Man” is renowned for his somewhat controversial lyrics. I was first introduced to his music by some of the ‘hip hop’ crowd in school. I can’t say I was a big fan. I believe the first lyrics I picked up on where “I want a dude who will do me in the van / A thug that can handle his biz like a man”. (“Dude”, Beenie Man Feat. Ms. Thing). I thought, charming.

It was only later that I heard his name again, this time in connection with complaints about homophobic lyrics. Such lyrics included (easily offended look away now) "Hang chi chi gal wid a long piece of rope" [Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope] and "Tek a bazooka and kill batty-fucker" [Take a bazooka and kill gay men].

I don’t know about you, but I don’t see how such lyrics could be easily misunderstood – seems pretty clear to me. However, Beenie Man, after facing complaints, having concerts cancelled and the like, thinks this is an unfair translation. He was quoted in “The Independent”, saying the true meaning of his lyrics have been misinterpreted due to cultural differences.

Last month groups of black gay and lesbian bloggers and activists protested about the artist's inclusion in a HIV/AIDS benefit organised by LIFEbeat, a music industry AIDS organization. The concert organisers cancelled the event after days of complaints. His concert in Brighton (British Gay Mecca) was cancelled, and across the water, two Canadian concerts were cancelled.

In the modern media controlled world, it is surprising how much influence singers and celebrities have on young people. While I am all for freedom of speech, I am not for homophobia and hate.

If my disapproval of Mr. Beenie Man and his music is because I don’t understand his culture, I don’t want to. I fully support calls from gay and lesbians everywhere to bring to light this mainstream homophobia.

Laptop Love

2006-08-10T23:59:00.000+01:00

I thought it would be fitting to write a follow up to my last post, written while on the Bangor-Belfast train. I had planned to type this follow up on the Belfast-London plane. However, as I’m sure many of you are aware, due to the security restrictions, I was parted from my darling laptop as he was hidden in the hold.

Despite the snooty man informing me they would be extra careful with laptop bags, he was returned to me rather battered. I have since bought a laptop skin cover to protect him further. My laptop now has a skin that reminds me rather of a wet suit. Laptop will not be swimming. Ever.

I am not really that surprised to find myself having some problems with the security measures. I have no issues at all about bringing only my wallet and travel documents on the plane, other than the fact I was slightly bored. (For the record, the BMI in flight magazine was much more interesting than the FlyBe one.) My quibble was more over being separated from my laptop, mp3 player and mobile phone. I’m of the battery powered information generation.

It’s true you can’t actually use your mobile phone on the plane, but I think it’s more of a confidence thing. A bit like being stripped of your bra, I feel a bit naked without it. And while there is no guarantee I will even use the laptop during the 55 minute flight, it is comforting to have it close at hand, lest the person beside me wants to engage in conversation. The mp3 player speaks for itself – I go mad at the sound of those little air conditioning spouts that blow cold air at you, and make the noise of 4 generators doing it. Anything to block it out.

I tried to consider it an in-flight technological detox, but I feel it didn’t work. I felt like a worried parent waiting by the baggage claim, and I did get some funny looks when I hugged my bag when it appeared. If anything, my technology nakedness just reminded me how much I need my little wonders.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and hug my laptop in the manner of a crazed woman stealing a baby.

It's A Commuter Thing You Know

2006-08-08T22:57:00.000+01:00

It is the wonders of modern technology that are allowing me (a little like Lemon Pillows) to compose this on the train. Not only do I find something terribly exciting about looking so professional as to have a little laptop to entertain me on the train, but I feel even better when I can look pensive as if I have something important to be typing. In reality I’m typing this.

I do like trains, because while they can be super boring, there is something terribly ‘suffering artist’ like about travelling by public transport. Of course, now that they have replaced Northern Ireland’s old trains with swish new ones, it doesn’t have quite the same kudos, but there is still that element of people-watching lonely-people people-watching.

In today’s train I have an old woman who keeps smiling a bit disturbingly at me. She has also started talking to herself, about what I’m not fully sure. She has a pleated skirt, a blue rinse and a bag worthy of Mary Poppins. (I was going to say Maria from the “Sound of Music”, but I can’t remember if nuns are allowed bags. Surely that is vanity?)

Also in this carriage is a slightly hairy, tobacco smelling, aging rocker type. He is now shouting ‘Did I waken ye?’ into his oversized mobile phone. I can’t make out the rest of his conversation. I am avoiding looking at him.

That is, so far at least, all the company I have. It would appear everyone else has the sense to drive. I am beginning to wish I brought my personal alarm with me. I’m sure aforementioned old woman has one somewhere in her bag.

One of the perks of our new posh trains, is that there is a voice to tell the dumb people which station is theirs. I can’t help feel that the person who recorded these voices was having a bit of a laugh, because, as each station passes, her voice appears to get all the more seductive. Given present company, there is no need for this.

I shall now meander off into other computer tasks. This is stopping anyone from engaging in conversation with me.

Only another 9 stations to go.

Roll on Belfast Pride 2007

2006-08-06T00:40:00.000+01:00

Belfast Pride passed off peacefully yesterday. Despite claiming I was going to hide and not march, I did end up sweeped along for a little while at least. Even the threatening grey Belfast clouds couldn’t rain on our parade.

The protestors who so fervently screamed at us last year didn’t want to be friends anymore, promptly turning their backs as the parade passed. In contrast, it was nice to see the first lesbian couple to marry under the Civil Partnership laws there, as well as many varied gays – showing just how diverse a community we really are.

At this time of year the gay community is more visible than ever, and thus we face many more questions than ever. Some see this as negative, but I see this as an opportunity to explain our traditions and our culture, in an attempt to promote better understanding.

However, at the same time, it’s important to stress that the gay community isn’t for everyone. It’s understandable if Belfast’s Queen drag Queen, Baroness Titti Von Tramp, gyrating against a fence, isn’t your thing. I sometimes find it all a bit much too, but then, escapism is what Pride is all about to a certain extent. Isn’t it?

Anyway, enough of me, here’s some photos of the event itself….

The Lucky One

2006-08-03T00:23:00.000+01:00

It’s quite late in hitting me really, but it’s only really occurring to me that I will never return to my school (as a student at least). It’s quite sad considering how much time you spend in your school, how much it is part of your life and your identity for your teen years.

When you really sit down and think about it, there are many memories of school that shape you as a person. Friendship circles, arguments and disappointments. Even more cosmetically (for me at least), I hate first wearing new clothes because they remind me September 1st and the brand new uniform.

Here is a storm of figures, in Northern Ireland, 86% of young gay people are aware of their sexual orientation while at school. Of the 63% of LGBT young people who faced negative attitudes around sexual orientation, only 13% of them sought support. 69% of the young people who left school earlier than that would have preferred were bullied.

Few would deny that the messages young people get in schools are crucial to their personal and social development and ability to manage the critical transition from youth to adult. Yet the “shout” research in 2003 found that schools are not providing the best environment for LGBT youth.

While I feel lucky to have so many positive memories of my time at school, I am aware that there should be no rose tint. I also have some more negative memories of school time, homophobia, silence and a general lack of support.

Yet - I’m lucky to have reached the end of my school years without significant abuse.

Why Does It Have To Be So Flamboyant?

2006-08-01T13:01:00.000+01:00

It would be careless of me to neglect to mention that this week is Belfast Pride week. I can only hope for kind weather on Saturday, and that all the events this week go well and reflect positively on the LGBT community here in Northern Ireland.

The youth dialogue event I have previously mentioned happened last night, amidst worries members of the Stop the Parade Coalition would picket it. I’m not sure if we should be glad that the Stop the Parade bats stayed at home. I’m inclined to think that the sporadic torrential rain may have been a deciding factor in their notable absence.

While it was certainly interesting to sit down with representatives of the many Christian churches here, it was again disappointing. True, almost everyone there agreed that the church does need to do more to be more accepting to young gay people, but what they do when they return to their churches is another matter.

It did feel a little bit like a talking shop, because to be fair, the Christians (represented predominantly by grey men in grey suits) agreed with most everything. Some of their views nearly surfaced when one showed his discontent with the Pride parade, ‘Why does it have to be so flamboyant?’

Perhaps if he had any idea of gay culture and history, he might have a better idea of the reason behind Pride. I did feel the need to point out that the parade was one of many events taking place, which represent the diversity of the community. I gave him a copy of the ‘Pride Guide’, which he promptly left behind.

Indeed, the Christian’s again showed their true feelings when I told them I expected to see them all on the streets to support us.

One step at a time?

Time is Money

2006-07-30T18:30:00.000+01:00

We live in a busy world. Businesses often run on the mantra ‘time is money’, for it seems, ‘if you snooze you lose’.

Aside from these clichés, you might expect that when you pay or contribute to something, you might expect something back. Maybe not if it’s a charity, but no matter how sad some of the programs may seem, the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) is no charity case.

I like the BBC, I like their news coverage, and find some of their programs enjoyable. They did adapt Sarah Water’s “Fingersmith” and “Tipping the Velvet” to please lesbians everywhere. Yet despite this, it seems the BBC are still far behind most of civilised society in their attitudes.

As many of you may be aware, last year Stonewall monitored 168 hours of peak time TV on BBC One and BBC Two. During that time lesbian and gay people and their lives were realistically and positively portrayed for just six minutes. To put this into perspective, gay people were contributing almost £190 million every year towards BBC programming. It seems money is not necessarily time. Especially if you’re a BBC boss.

I can’t be too hard on the BBC – they did air “Boys Don’t Cry”, a shocking film about a confused transgender teen who is raped and murdered, this month. Although the cynical side of me is saying that 11.35pm isn’t exactly prime time.

And even more frustrating, is their continued defence of both Chris Moyles and Jeremy Clarkson who have both recently been broadcast describing a ringtone and a car (respectively) as ‘gay’. Surely two personalities with such big heads should have a larger vocabularly? Or at least a little more sense? Or maybe not.

But the most frustrating bit of it all? They have removed Natasha Kaplinsky from Breakfast News. (Not that I’m up for Breakfast much anymore).

In Good Faith

2006-07-20T12:01:00.000+01:00

It’s easy for the gay community to sometimes shrug off religion – it seems to have little to offer young LGBT people. Yet, religion plays a large part of life in Northern Ireland. Regardless of your side of the religious divide, or your family background, religion permeates life here, and has done for many generations. However, while we have grown up around these religious influences, as a young lesbian, I feel the church offers little in the way of support to young gay Christians like myself.

Religious fundamentalists who bash Pride events make it rather uncomfortable for us all, but for those in a church background, they make it even more difficult. On Sunday August 6th, I feel confident that I will not be the only guilty feeling churchgoer. Fundamentalists are a constant reminder that my fellow Christians do not and perhaps can not understand my identity – put simply, they make me feel I am in the wrong.

The concept of ‘gay Christians’ is a controversial one. A mish mash of organisations queue up to offer their translations of bible verses, each seeming to discredit the other. In all the noise it is difficult for a young Christian to decipher what the bible really does say. Is God love if he cannot love me because of who I am and what he made me?

Against this confusing backdrop churches here offer little practical guidance. Reminiscent of military establishments, the policy appears to be ‘Don’t say, don’t tell’. At the age of 18 I have come through Sunday School and youth groups in the Anglican church and have found no one willing to discuss homosexuality in any shape or form. This policy creates an unsettling and confusing environment, and I feel church workers in the youth sector do not encourage young gay people to speak to them about their sexuality. Like many schools here, because there is such repression of the subject of sexuality, homophobia goes unchecked. I know that I simply could not broach the subject with any of the many people I have come across in my church.

Indeed, even if the subject was broached, the view offered by most Northern Irish churches is one of ignorance. The many stereotypical replies include ‘It’s only a phase’, ‘Burn in hell, Sodomite’ and ‘Gay? I’m glad you’re feeling happy.’ They simply do not understand the many issues surrounding coming out – letting themselves be led by faith before sense.

The expectation of the Church seems to be that the young people in their care could not possibly be homosexual. Many of you present will know this view is absurd – gays come from all walks of life and all religions across the world. This view also causes the young person, like me, who was struggling with their sexuality another problem – how could you be gay, when gay is a sin?

Church is often seen as a family activity. Three generations or more of a family often sit in the same pew. It is therefore no wonder that in such a closed community, young people feel unable to express themselves. The culture of church gossips also makes it difficult to be open about being gay in the church setting.

If I wanted to discuss my sexual orientation with someone from my church, there is no one I feel I could speak to in confidence. There is no one there to support my choice or offer me advice – there is always the fear of rejection and the frustration of repression.

When young people face crises of faith – ironically, churches make themselves the last port of call for young gay Christians. It is only with discussion and acceptance that their ignorance can be removed, and more young people like me feel comfortable in the fold.

____
Photo from flickr.com/photos/a11sus.
Article to be read anonymously at the GLYNI Pride event 2006.

Dates for your Diary

2006-07-18T13:51:00.000+01:00

For anyone reading this in Northern Ireland (or indeed anyone willing to travel), I thought I should plug one or two events. First and foremost is the Belfast Pride festival, a week of events to cater for pretty much every taste, ending in the parade and party on 5th August. No doubt there will be some nice protestors to shout nasty things at the marchers, so all support is welcome. Indeed – even if you aren’t gay, come and watch a parade that has more colours than orange.

The little humanitarian in me is also urging you to visit the “Sex, Love and Homophobia” event in the Waterfront Hall from 17th July to 18th August. Organised by Amnesty International it’s advertised as an “A-Z exhibition showing the discrimination and abuses faced by members of the LGBT community around the world as well as a brief hidden history of lesbian and gay people over the last couple of millennia.”

Also interesting is the Gay and Lesbian Youth Northern Ireland event on Monday 31st July, “In Good Faith”, an evening debating issues of religion and sexuality. If you aren’t in Northern Ireland, then either come visit or do a Google search and find out what’s on in your area. You won’t regret it.

Being Blogged Down

2006-07-16T18:29:00.000+01:00

The power of blogging for political means has been recognised by the blogging community for a long time, and yet it seems that the media are finally picking up on the power of the people.

In Northern Ireland blogs have been a popular means of political discussion in a tense political climate. The popular Slugger O’Toole blog receives in excess of 3000 hits a day. There is also a blog for just about every belief or political ideology, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

The media is now beginning to pick up on blogging, particularly over the recent Labour government scandals in Britain. John Prescott’s actions in particular have been picked up by blogs, providing the first career-threatening British political story, powered by us – the bloggers.

The gay bloggers are using this anonymous and open medium to press their agenda too. Prescott’s dealing with the homophobic US Republican millionaire, Philip Anshutz appears to be just the beginning of discussions.

Elsewhere, bloggers from the US black gay community are protesting against scheduled performances by Beenie Man and TOK. They are campaigning against a concert organiser's decision to allow reggae artists whose songs include homophobic lyrics to perform at an upcoming HIV/AIDs awareness concert.

Of course, not all blogs are campaigning, discussing politics or trying to change the world. This guy just wanted a house.

Hasbian Phobia

2006-07-13T18:14:00.000+01:00

For an open-minded community, the homosexual community can really be quite phobic. Bi-phobia is, in my experience, accepted. Some gay people openly declare that they’d never date a bisexual person and others claim bisexuals don’t take sexuality ‘seriously’ enough.

But by using such labels and prejudices, are we not just making it more difficult for ourselves. When a gay person decides that they want to be with someone of the opposite sex, they all of a sudden become a ‘hasbian’. They risk losing face in the community and losing their circle of friends. I know – because I’ve experienced.

Of course it largely depends on the group of friends you have. Some of my friends don’t care who I date, whereas another friend just stopped inviting me to social gatherings, claiming I’d ‘turned’.

I find it strange that the community that pleads acceptance can be just as prejudiced. Of course I feel here that I should say that is not true of everyone.

Even, as a former ‘hasbian’ myself, I find myself being swept among these prejudices. Despite reading oodles of Jeanette Winterson books, and having, in my opinion, a very open mind about sexuality and labels, I was still very surprised to hear of a popular lad who has recently started dating a camp fellow. The popular lad sings in a band and has a list of attractive female ex girlfriends from here to Figi. Is that why I was surprised to hear he is dating a guy?

Or am I just jealous because I find such fluid ideals challenging?

'Twelfth Night' is a Shakespeare Play...

2006-07-11T23:37:00.000+01:00

Tonight is the eleventh night – I’m sure many of you from foreign lands won’t understand the significance of this, but perhaps when I say ‘the 12th of July’ you might understand more of my meaning.

For those of you who don’t – every year on July 12th, the Orange Order commemorate the victory of King William of Orange at the Battle of the Boyne by marching with bands and full regalia. Sounds harmless enough, but it creates major agro between the Republican and Loyalist communities, not just over the routes of the parade, but also the noise they make, and the general offence they are believed to cause.

Almost more interesting than the unashamed (and mainly drunken) revelry of the twelfth, is the eleventh night. Loyalists gather old sofas, wooden palettes and other general waste, pile them up sky high, and set them alight in confined housing estates. They sometimes burn effigies of the Pope or other anti-Catholic sentiments, and they will happily stay awake all night prancing around the giant fire. There is something wholly tribal about the whole affair.

As I type this I can hear the pipe bands playing some 2 miles away, and in the morning I will find the ash of a nights revelry on my window pane.

I hope that, regardless of your religion or side of the Northern Irish political divide, that your eleventh night, and July 12th are as trouble-free as possible.

Congrats Italy / Profile Problems

2006-07-09T23:22:00.000+01:00

Alas, for the world cup is over, and no doubt the attractive potential lesbians shall withdraw from local pubs until Euro 2008. Congratulations to Italy, winning on some nail-biting penalties. I also preferred their blue strip.

I realise this is about the first time I’ve been on time with a blog for some time. With no study to avoid, or timetabled days, it all blurs into one to be honest. I am only really sure this is Sunday because I’m back from church. Sad – isn’t it?

I have just received an invitation in my little inbox from a friend I haven’t spoken to in at least a year, inviting me to join yet another profile site. As if Faceparty, Myspace, Hi5 and Bebo weren’t enough to be getting on with, Bingbox has now appeared as the ‘if you don’t sign up I may never contact you again’ websites.

I can’t really help but wonder what the purpose of these sites is. I admit I have pages on nearly all, just more proof that a bored straighttalker is a dangerous one.

Now in principle these sites are harmless. But they are so nosey it’s ridiculous. Myspace asks your sexuality but doesn’t display it if you don’t want to, Bebo doesn’t ask, but Bingbox just goes ahead and tells the whole world. I’ve just had to claim I’m a hetero. I’m being locked in a closet on the online world! Oh, and Bingbox won’t let me chose not to enter that field, AND it just emailed my whole msn list to tell them all.

Does your CV get posted around everyone you’ve ever met?

Irrepressible

2006-07-06T21:15:00.000+01:00

The very astute of you will have noticed my spangly new ‘Irrepressible’ button on left hand side bar. This was a campaign which has caught me eye recently, and I’m glad to wear it’s badge on my blog.

The campaign aims to show up the censorship and repression present online. Chat rooms, blogs and search engines are all apparently monitored by government and the big IT companies.

It does all sound rather conspiracy theorist, but when presented with real excerpts of censored material from credible sources, Amnesty International and The Observer, it makes for a chilling reality.

Too often human rights abuses are too distant to really engage our interest. Yet the internet makes the world a much smaller place. We can instantly chat with acquaintances in far off countries, meaning their concerns should be ours.

Check out Irrepressible.info, or have a read at my badge. Get one for your own blog.

Spread the word that someone doesn’t want you to hear.

Baby Bootees in Size Baby Please...

2006-07-04T20:30:00.000+01:00

My cynical and non-maternal mind has convinced itself that it doesn’t want any children. Some readers may remember my previous rants about children as a puking expense. I’m really not the mothering type.

However, some positive news on Northern Ireland for a change. Junior Health Minister at the Northern Ireland Office in Westminster, Paul Goggins, unveiled a new approach to adoption in Northern Ireland which (rightly so) will put children's needs at the heart of the process. This means that same sex couples may get adoption rights.

Despite not being the paternal type, I do think that regardless of sexual orientation, if a child can be made happier by living in a loving home, then everything should be done for that child. Discrimination to potential adopters on grounds of sexual orientation is just that, discrimination.

In November 2002, the Adoption and Children Act passed into law and allowed unmarried couples, including same-sex couples, in England and Wales to apply for joint adoption. As usual Northern Ireland are a few years behind with such progressive measures.

I’ll get knitting my baby bootees and hope for the best.

Fun in the Sun

2006-07-02T20:17:00.000+01:00

I am a very sunburnt blogger. It would appear that the giant orb in the sky doesn’t like my pale skin much. Every time I burn I insist the pain would be worth it if I turned a slight shade of brown. I never do.

Yes I know it was very silly of me not to wear sun cream, but to be honest you don’t expect the Northern Irish sun to actually burn you. Although from the tops of my arms and my new fried bingo wings, it would appear even the most rare of sunshine can leave it’s mark. Something to remember it by during the rainy days?

Something that always bewildered me was people calling sun cream ‘sun tan lotion’. This is clearly a clever ploy to get those who seem intent on bronzing to put on some protection. I however need no encouragement – with such pale skin it’s factor 30+ all the way.

Like most things in the 21st century you don’t actually need to go outside for them. Not only can you simulate the smell of summer flowers in your washing, the stench of pine trees in the wind in your living room, but you can also orangify yourself with vast amount of nasty orange bottles. Or why not buy yourself a machine that looks like an alien testing facility and emits UVA and UVB rays which speed up skin aging among other harmful effects? There’s one on eBay for only £100!

Perhaps the obsession with ‘bronzing’ ourselves is best shown in any cosmetic store, where bottles of orange gloop outnumber their sun protection counterparts.

We all know the dangers, yet still we choose fake tan over Soltan.
____
Photo from flickr.com/photos/a11sus

The Great Pink Scare

2006-06-29T18:27:00.000+01:00

As I type this I remind myself of Carrie Bradshaw from “Sex And The City”. Not because I am making some trite statement about a heterosexual love life, neither do I have a twangy American accent, but I do have a rather cute new laptop to type it on.

My beautiful new equipment may not excite some of you as much as it excites me, but as a fully qualified internet-child and computer-nerd, I’m easily satisfied. For the less technically minded of you, I also got a cute little mouse that lights up and changes colour.

I’ve rattled on before about AfterEllen.com, a fabulous website that gives interesting commentaries on lesbians and lesbianism in the media. Today however I am referring to AfterElton.com (no prizes for guessing) – the male equivalent.

An article on there caught my eye, about a documentary aired in American telling the tale of three Professors at the American Smith University who were arrested and charged in the 1950s for viewing/sharing/possessing male erotica.

While persecution of gays, and lesbians is certainly not news to anyone, what interested me about this was the fact that now two of those Professors charged where speaking candidly about what it did to their lives.

The professionals in question, Dorius, Spofford and Arvin lost their jobs. Dorius entered a mental institution and Spofford was hospitalized numerous times as well,. Arvin was consumed with guilt about his sexuality, and was said to feel relief when punishment came. He died three years later, a convicted felon.

Dorius and Spofford had their convictions overturned in 1963, although by then the damage was done. Both men had difficulty finding teaching positions, eventually finding some in the 1970s.

“The Great Pink Scare” as the documentary is called certainly sounds very interesting, and it is important to see the Independent Television Service telling these stories to a new-thinking generation.

All three men are now sadly dead, Spofford and Dorius passing away earlier this year. However as Spofford sais in the 1990s in his memoirs, “It’s much better now. There is no double life.”

"Alreet Mate?" - On Being Norn Irish

2006-06-27T00:06:00.000+01:00

I’ve always considered myself an accents girl. I do pay a lot of attention to how someone speaks, almost as much as what they say. Perhaps it comes from having a Northern Irish drawl which makes me conscious of my own tone wherever I go – but an accent is sure to turn my head.

I don’t need to mention the hotness of a foreign woman whispering sweet nothings into your ear, but oddly enough I also like accents some people find strange, grating or just damn annoying.

I remember a teacher from the ‘cunt-ry’ (the N. Irish sticks) coming to teach in my school, and within about 3 sentences I was virtually smitten. There’s obviously nothing like the Irish accent, but even the welsh voice; coming out of the right woman can be most endearing. This where I mention Big Brother’s Imogen – she might bitch quite a bit, and be a little bit of a bimbo – but when she speaks I’d vote anyone out.

So – using some reverse thinking, and my delightfully distinctive accent, I’m hoping that with my move to England, I shall get lots of attention from the ladies. While I am always very conscious that I have a flag that says ‘Northern Irish – ask me dumb questions’ tattooed to my forehead, all attention is welcome. The only barriers being to communication being, I speak too fast the small English ear, and once they open their eyes I’m screwed.

But you never know, I might get one with odd tastes – I just hope she has a nice accent.

What A Drag

2006-06-25T23:30:00.000+01:00

Most people associate ‘drag’ specifically with camp men in brightly coloured dresses, stilettos and fake boobs. Drag Queens have formed a popular representation of queer identity for many years, with ‘Lily Savage’, ‘Ru Paul’ and friends being the stereotypical, flamboyant queens who converse with the masses.

Some of us have more contact with drag queens than others. I must admit to being somewhat intimidated by the various larger than life characters that frequent some gay bars in Belfast when I was first introduced to the scene. There is no doubt that whether you are straight or gay, members of the public instantly recognise a drag queen.

However, it seems the term “drag king” is somewhat less well known among the public. I was a little surprised to find that my heterosexual friends had never ever heard of a drag king, but I guess, how many male impersonators present daytime television?

One open-minded friend did hazard a guess. If a ‘drag queen’ was a man dressed up as a woman, surely a ‘drag king’ should be a man dressed up as… a man?

I really don’t imagine I’d have to accurately explain the term to many lesbians. There is something ridiculously attractive about a woman in a smart suit or other typically male attire. And yet the closest popular media gets to drag kings are androgynous advertising ploys and Sarah Waters novels.

I’ve often heard gay males say that they don’t fancy ‘men dressed up as women’, they fancy men, yet few lesbians can say they don’t feel some pull to an attractive drag king. I believe the attraction lies in the fact that despite the masculine appearance – there is still that unmistakable femininity.

However, if you’re doing drag – don’t make it too convincing. That could be disasterous.

Equality In The Eye of the Beholder

2006-06-22T17:13:00.000+01:00

Sorry my poor neglected readers, I can only pray you will forgive me. Those of you who are in msn and email contact may have some idea why I have been absent, and it is a reason slightly more than being in the pub watching football for the last week. (Although I have spent rather a lot of time there.)

I shall try and catch up with updates if you bear with me over the next few days. Hence if the dates on this post change, you aren’t seeing things. I’m just an obsessive type.

Something which caught my eye on the wonderful PinkNews.co.uk site was new research into Northern Irish views on the LGBT population. Apparently 86% of the population wouldn’t mind having a gay, lesbian or bisexual work colleague or neighbour. I can only imagine part of the remaining 14% who are dusting off their placards in preparation for the summer’s pride event.

Other shocking statistics show that city-dwellers are in generally more open-minded and concerned, as 71% of Belfast respondents think the LGBT community is unfairly treated. This is not the case elsewhere; no wonder many young gays aspire to move to the metropolis that is (not) Belfast and beyond.

I’m generally quite sceptical of statistics, but in this case it only serves to reinforce my views. Many areas of Northern Ireland are backward in their views towards homosexuality, and despite the many leaps and bounds from 30 years – there is still an unwillingness to address the issue of gay equality here.

They Think It's All Over

2006-06-20T23:12:00.000+01:00

It’s Tuesday. That’s blog night. It’s also the night after all my exams, and like any proper dyke I marked this by watching a football match in a pub and eyeing up any potential talent that came in the door. This of course means I missed 3 out of the 4 goals in England’s 2 all draw with Sweden, not that I mind that much. It was a pretty good game – even if most goals seemed more fluke (that seems to be the way with most sport to me).

Like any self-respecting dyke I try my best to act football-savvy, throwing in the odd international player name for good measure. I must admit my knowledge of football is generally quite limited to what the Internet tells me. Although, more by chance than anything, my fantasy football team is performing quite well.

So aside from trying desperately to act like I know the difference between Ronaldo and Ronaldinho (it gets more difficult the more drinks I have), I was watching the talent. Football night is full of boozy men, their disgruntled wives, and dykes.

The disgruntled wives form vague (if not old) eye candy, and the dykes provide something to make knowing eyes at during the slow motion replays. Plus the half time visit to the toilets is a bit of a squeeze.

I can’t help wondering if the rest of the lesbians in the pub, and in pubs across the country are feigning interest like me. If they were, would they admit it. And if they admitted it, could we just get over the formalities?

Big Brother is a Patriarch!!

2006-06-18T22:07:00.000+01:00

I must admit to watching Big Brother. Every year I wish I could say I rise above it, but every year I remain glued to the virtual fish tank that now lasts 13 weeks. It is of course, terribly disappointing.

I must say, I do like super-camp Canadian, Richard. He is manipulative as they come – but he does seem to have a brain, which is more than most of the rest of them. I really don’t see how promotions girls and dancers are reflective of society. I’m sure George Orwell is turning in his grave.

Not only is it full of people prancing around in bikinis and generally making us ashamed to actually be watching them, but also there is not a single, single lesbian in it. In fact, there’s not even a coupled lesbian. Big Brother is wholly devoid of lesbianism. What kind of television is this?

Granted Big Brother did have some problems with militant dyke Kitten, who refused to abide by the rules in what was a terribly funny time. Unfortunately lots of people failed to see the funny side, including Big Brother and she was kicked out after roof top protests, diary room occupation and even refusing to leave the house when she was evicted.

So, maybe she wasn’t the best ambassador – but I liked her. She was funny to watch, and I got the impression she too had a brain, something not many other housemates have.

In fact, possibly the nearest we have to a lesbian in the house was ‘Sleazy’ Sezer, who lists his favourite book as Jeanette Winterson’s ‘Written on the Body’ (which I too highly recommend).
In conclusion, Big Brother is afraid of brains and lesbians. Together, one must presume, they are a potent mix.

Moyles Mess

2006-06-15T19:27:00.000+01:00

I’m going to pick up from Reluctant Nomad here and follow the story of BBC Radio 1’s Chris Moyles causing a bit of a fuss by referring to a ring tone as ‘gay’.

It does seem a bit much really to have the BBC implementing new disciplinary proceedings because a presenter uses what is, sadly, a common slang term among today’s youth. However we must take into account that young people do copy their role models, and Moyles is (for some unknown reason) popular with the under 30s. Also – while the gay lobby is picking up his use of the word ‘gay’, Ofcom have also received complaints of his talking about women as ‘dirty whores’, and saying ‘piss’ and ‘twat’. Delightful for a public figure.

Moyles is also an arrogant oaf, so while I’m sure he revels in all the attention, I for one think it’s time he was pulled up for his bad attitude, which the BBC seem to be promoting. I suppose it means they can make shows about the deteriorating state of the nations youth?

The BBC committee initially protested that Moyles was using the word ‘gay’ to mean ‘lame’ or ‘rubbish’. I know that is a common use of the word among today’s youth, and I, as a young gay person myself am actually frustrated at this use which obviously promotes the idea of homosexuality as abnormal, secondary to heterosexuals who are obviously not ‘lame’ or rubbish at all.

‘Gay’ is used as a derogatory term all too often in everyday life. It can be seen to have a negative effect on young people, and too often it is ignored by teachers and adults as being modern slang. Stonewall at least see the potential importance of it, as in their new “Speak Out” survey, they actually ask about the usage of the term.

I won’t pretend I’m unbiased. I dislike Moyles as I think he is a very poor excuse for entertainment. However, whatever my thoughts on him – to promote homophobia – no matter how subtly or unintentionally – is wrong.

Chat Up Lines

2006-06-11T21:36:00.000+01:00

Thank you all for your birthday wishes. The event has passed reasonably quietly. I drank the bar out of their weekly supply of Smirnoff Ice, and had a largely trouble free night with the least bitchy of my acquaintances.

Perhaps the most difficult part of my birthday weekend was justifying my presents to my mother. One friend thought it would be most humorous to buy me a book, “How to chat up women”, which I can recommend, despite giving a wholly heterosexual outlook on dating. I hope my friend was suggesting the irony of me not needing a book. It has however offered me some advice on the role of facial hair in flirting. Apparently if I grow a goatee I will attract a different kind of woman. I bet.

I justified the above gift with a made up tale of me chatting up the dinner ladies in school to get bigger portions. The very thought of chatting up our gnarled dinner ladies makes my little stomach turn.

Another friend got me a nice card with a picture of a masturbating woman on the front of it. She had, at least, pre warned me of this. Thank god I took her warning seriously. That would have been slightly more difficult to explain. I think the vibrating laser gun toy from another person who perhaps thinks I am about to begin childhood regression may also have connotations, but not any my parents would pick up on.

My new snazzy walkman mobile phone has been filled up with the best of dykish tunes, meaning I can declare my sexuality covertly by my music choice on the move.

Oh to be 17 again….

Birthday

2006-06-08T17:25:00.000+01:00

It’s my 18th birthday on Saturday. Despite the fact I know that in reality it’s not that old – it is still a little creepy. All the oldies will no doubt scorn me for being so stupid, but 18 years is quite a long time!

So in honour of the occasion, and because split ends aren’t fashionable anymore, I took a trip to the hairdressers. I quite like going to the hairdressers for a number of reasons, although I always feel a little like I’m intruding.

Not only are all the young girls in my hairdressers rather attractive, but they also wear shirts that are far to low cut for someone who has to lean over all the time. They really aren’t my type, but they do make it slightly more bearable.

I haven’t got the full dyke hair do yet, It’s slowly getting there – getting just that little bit shorter every 5/6 weeks since I was 15. I can’t help wondering if my hairdresser knows, as she’s given me something which looks disturbingly like a baby mullet this month.

It’s my party tonight. And I’ll invite all my gay friends if I want to. It’ll at least make mummy wonder where I meet these kinds of people.

Sweet Teens

2006-06-06T22:07:00.000+01:00

I was reading an interesting article a few weeks ago. It was all about the importance of literature to teens. The writer reminisced on the books of her teens, which, she claims, shaped her person. The books provided not just an entertaining past time, but also formed part of her instruction in the teenage vices - boys, school and ‘girly things’.

I admit to being greatly enamoured by the “Sweet Valley High” series. Not least because it happened to feature two rather beautiful twins. The writer of the aforementioned article pronounced Judy Blume to be her favourite teenage writer. Each to their own.

It doesn’t take an astro-physicist specialist with a PhD in particle metabolism (a scientist) to figure that there aren’t too many lesbian teen books about. Those that are out there seem to be geared much more towards the older crowd, reminiscing about the days before Big Brother and the comparative freedom we ‘young ones don’t appreciate’. Not that there is anything wrong with the many soppy coming of age tales of school day love. However, none of these will ever be able to fall into mainstream teen reading.

At this stage it feels appropriate to give the nod to the second series of “Sugar Rush” which begins on June 15th on C4. “Sugar Rush”, despite not exactly being Shakespeare, seems to be breaking into the mainstream. At last! A lesbian geared novel exploring normal, modern lesbian teen life! Well, normal as far as hot-wiring a car, stealing your best friends knickers and having a brother that paints everything blue can be.

As I speed towards my 18th Birthday (Saturday), it occurs to me that all through my school career, 14 years of English teaching, not one book we studied even hinted at same sex relationships (unless I basically twisted it to meet me own ends.) As a young person looking for literature that accurately depicts my growing up experience, even loosely, I have to look on far from the teen section of bookshops and libraries. I happen to be an avid reader, actively pursuing books.

But what about those who don’t?

Not Even The Girly Ones

2006-06-04T22:24:00.000+01:00

I guess I really should have known I was a lesbian all along. There’s not really much excuse for taking a full 14 ½ years to figure it out. In truth I always preferred the Spice Girls to those many boy bands (particularly Sporty Spice).

I have memories of the emergence of ‘5ive’, ‘Westlife’, ‘Boyzone’, even ‘911’. I remember seeing them on TV for hours (TV raised me), and reading about trivial things like their boxers in silly little magazines. Nearly all my friends fancied at least one of each of the aforementioned bands – I didn’t. Not even the girly ones.

Indeed, the only band I fancied vaguely was those long haired children, “Hanson”. But they don’t count, since they sang like girls and looked like them. Of course they’re all grown up now, and all those girls my age that fancied them aged 9, fancy them in a much less innocent way at 18.

I’m not saying I obsessed over many girl bands either (with the exception of The Corrs, my first love). Pop music was never really my thing. However I definitely looked at the girls in a different way to the boys. The way they pranced about in those skimpy fluorescent outfits obviously appealed to my sub-conscious dyke, even then.

Luckily I have much better music taste now. Like any proper dyke I have the necessary Etheridge, Lang and Morrisette tunes. I am well versed in lesbian-lore, and can face any lesbian music pop quiz with my head held high.

It seems appropriate for me to mention here the UK’s latest lesbian girl band, Greymatter. Well worth a look.

Watch Fundamentalists

2006-06-01T11:35:00.000+01:00

This is very exciting – as if watching clips of my favourite lesbian shows online wasn’t enough for a girl who is meant to be revising, it appears that “God Hates Fags” have also discovered the wonder of YouTube, or at least their opposition have.

This surprised me because I didn’t find them myself; it was forwarded to me on myspace by some school people. Good to see not only gays see the outrageous actions of this organisation as what they are.

I’m not a Christian hater, the only Christians I really hate are those who preach hate at something they do not and can not understand. I am pleased to link here to Straight, Not Narrow, an excellent blog that shows that gays and Christians can work together in harmony.

But before you go there, sit back and take a moment to watch the stage show that is ‘God Hates Fags’, protesting at a soldier’s funeral.

That Butch PE Teacher

2006-05-30T22:37:00.000+01:00

I’ve been spending some time reflecting on my school life throughout the years. I readily admit to finding life in the closet in a middle-class girl’s school a bit of a trial, and so I must express some sympathy for those still there – and I don’t mean the pupils.

Parents, I think, are of the opinion that gay teachers don’t exist, but I know for sure they do. Being a lesbian teacher is something I can’t imagine myself doing – those who do it have my utmost respect.

The more ‘obvious’ among us will experience rumours. I charge you to find a school, which doesn’t have rumours about the butch, short-haired sports teacher. I know mine did, I know they were true.

Even those who don’t ooze homo must surely not have an easy time. Schools are full of nosey little pupils wanting to know all about the single teacher’s ‘boyfriend’. If it’s your career – there is not always an end in sight.

Teaching is not an easy career. You face a room of obnoxious little madams who will no doubt spread rumours about you and generally be as disruptive and upsetting as possible. If you are gay you face the possibility of unfounded allegations being tackled by a homophobic board of governors who may have somewhat outdated views. Like any job, you face work colleagues who may not be accepting, but pupils may be even less so – particularly if you give them detention.

Teaching is also one of the most rewarding careers. All those who do it have my kudos – I know it isn’t easy. I believe that LGBT teachers are underrepresented in an education system that seems to want to hide anything that might bring disrepute on a school.

Oh, and don’t worry if you think I’m being one sided, Christian Music TV has something to say on the matter too!

Normal Service....

2006-05-28T11:13:00.000+01:00

Oh my poor neglected little readers! Fear not – I have not been eaten alive by my copy of “Oedipus Rex” just yet. I am still here in some shape, calling out into this great abyss that is the internet.

My activities have of course been somewhat restricted by the imminent exams. I am looking forward to a busy summer after them. It is much easier to revise when you have somewhere to aim for that isn’t the same monotony of school life.

In between my breaks in revising I’ve been entertaining myself greatly looking at you all on my new SiteMeter. I like to see where you’ve all come from and where you are accessing my little home from. Big hello to all my readers from Denmark, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, India, Brazil, Dubai, Malaysia and loads of other totally exciting places. I am easily amused.

I could suggest some concern about just how many people stumble upon my blog from male porn sites, but I’m not a prejudiced person, so you are also welcome.

Make yourselves at home – normal service will resume soon.

Exam Time

2006-05-23T10:06:00.000+01:00

Oh, how I may laugh! As I headed into my two and a half hour long exam yesterday, my fellow English Literaturites laughed at me for having a sports strapping on my right wrist.

Two and a half hours later, who was laughing?

Revision now – another exam later. Sorry blog-readers. Normal service will resume soon enough.

For now, why not entertain yourself search for lesbian videos on YouTube. I particularly like the “Fingersmith” and “Tipping The Velvet” ones.

Forwarding Fun

2006-05-21T21:09:00.000+01:00

Forwarded emails annoy me intensely. They are generally meaningless, and no matter how often you tell people that the child will not lose an arm if they do not email the letter to all their contacts, nor will they really have a car crash on the way home, they just don't listen.

They are also ridiculously heterosexual. How many forwards automatically presume all guys want a girl, and all girls want a guy? How many surveys ask girls if they have a boyfriend? Forwards exist for most causes, anti-racism, anti-sectarianism, anti-Iraq war, but yet there are very few anti-homophobia forwards. And what is perhaps worse, if there were, people (closeted or closed-minded) would be afraid to forward them, lest they are presumed gay.

I don’t mind getting sent forwards that are funny, although most of them I’ve seen 10 times before, and the rest are either not funny or highly politically incorrect.

There is also a certain amount of hypocrisy in a world that consistently screams ‘Information overload!’, which spends much of it’s day typing in surveys, forwarding pictures of puppies/kittens/chicks.

Yes, the thought is there. It’s nice to know someone who hasn’t actually bothered to pick up the phone to you in 6 months still has you in his or her address book. But how can a ‘Friendship Prayer’ be sincere is it’s sent to 150 other friends, work colleagues and acquaintances?

However, if you would like to send me a forward, or even better – a personalised message, email me. Details at the side.

Radcylffe and I

2006-05-18T23:20:00.000+01:00

I was going to write this earlier, but I got sidelined by a Tatu video which is, to put it mildly, awful, and yet strangely provocative.

To be fair there is also little to report in my life. School has ended and I am in my yearly study hibernation. My first exam is next Tuesday, and I am patiently wasting time before that. Every year I say I’ll study really hard, and end up doing little more than I did the year before.

Perhaps the only thing pushing me this year is the need to get away to England for University. However, apparently browsing GaydarGirls for the Midlands is also not a beneficial use of my time as my exams approach. It is however more interesting that the Act of Union in 1800.

My mother has been scolding me like the child I am. I apparently drive too fast, and every time I open the door I get begged to drive safely. I’m only going to get a pint of milk. Also, apparently, looking forward to my future is forbidden. It may make people here feel insignificant. Sorry for having ambition mother.

In other news in the world of Straight Talker, I have obtained a copy of “The Trials of Radclyffe Hall” which I am reading by night and hiding my day. It was actually my mother who found it in the second hand bookshop; I just popped down later to buy it. It is rich in detail, and suggests the wonderfully scandalous life of Hall’s lovers who appear to bring husbands and all into the domestic arrangement. Also, apparently Hall was dyslexic and had to get someone to correct all her spelling mistakes (usually her partners). Imagine what life must have been like without Microsoft Word.

I am babbling, because I have left this late for a study-tired-caffeine-fuelled-student. To bed and Radcyffle Hall I go.

Fundamentalist Watch 2

2006-05-16T21:14:00.000+01:00

Well the sun has been peeping its head out in preparation for the long summer days, and so the religious bigots have been getting out their summer gear for a long season's worth of being bigots!

However, all is not well, as the Ohio House has approved a bill, which will ensure that the groups what protest outside dead soldier’s funeral’s there have to stand at least 300ft away from the mourners. That’s a whole 91.44 metres. I guess they’ll need bigger ‘God Hates Fags’ signs then.

Although not strictly religious nutters, the British Nationalist Party has voiced its fears that homosexuality may become compulsory, saying that “Some unfortunate people suffer from homosexuality so we will just have to tolerate them.” Oh well, I guess we’ll just continue being “revolting” but “happy”.

Opus Dei (you know the one in “The Da Vinci Code” with the crazy torture bits and bobs?) has had some political success, with their member Ruth Kelly being promoted in Tony Blair’s reshuffle to “Minister for Equality and Women”. Isn’t it nice to have a person who has been conveniently absent from pretty much every gay rights bill in charge of writing them? It’s a real pity actually – I genuinely thought Ms. Kelly had potential for being a raving lezzer, and she does have a very pleasant accent.

I do hope all of the peoples I have mentioned above shall be joining in the “International Day Against Homophobia” minute’s silence tomorrow. If not, they could at least shut their big gobs for a minute’s peace.

Failing to Fit In

2006-05-14T22:57:00.000+01:00

As a young teen I always felt very different and alienated. I had friends, but to a certain extent I never felt like I could connect. I put it down to having friends that weren’t as academic as me. I made friends with the more bookish types, and I still felt an outsider. I then thought it was because I didn’t drink or smoke, so I tried that, and it was equally unsuccessful. I thought it was because I didn’t hang around with people from church backgrounds like me – I befriended some evangelical Christian types and felt more alien than ever.

I then put it down to having too many groups of friends – so many people who I knew, but so few of them that actually knew much about me. I tried to get closer to a few select people, and they hurt me.

I then came to realisation I was gay, and that must therefore be the reason for this distance between prospective friends and me. I made some gay friends, and they accepted me, and I was happy. I was however still at a distance due to circumstance. I think they pitied me too, and I didn’t want friends who pitied me. However, I must thank them, for they were a great help then.

Having tried almost everything, I finally gave up. I gave up hoping someone would think to invite out on a Saturday night. I gave up hoping to keep track of conversations about the complicated friendship webs. I gave up trying to fit in.

Eventually I’ve found myself fitting in with a group who don’t fit in. Not that we’re rejects, most of us are popular enough. However we’re more the group that came together because we were always arriving alone to parties. I’m close to this group, but I’m still quite a closed person. I’m a bit afraid of opening up.

I’ve yet to find someone terribly like me. I’m a fairly quirky character. There are few I can really be honest with, and there are few who I can talk and listen to well into the night.

I am different. But it’s got the stage where I don’t really care that much. I look at them and am glad I’m not another one off the conveyer belt of copycats.

Dykes In Cars

2006-05-11T23:38:00.000+01:00

Today I passed my driving practical test. I can now legally drive alone, and even do things like illegally speed and park badly. This is obviously a great achievement, because every proper dyke drives.

Admittedly it is my mother’s Ford Ka, with it’s little teddy bears she insists on keeping in the back seat. It’s not a cool motorbike, a sports car, or even a land rover. But it does have a nice CD player, and I can drive it.

So I’ve been buzzing around town, safe in the knowledge I can now drive alone, as in without my dad whinging in my ear, or my instructor being patronising about the fact I didn’t signal early enough. My logic is always clear, he just never understood me.

I thought I put on an excellent performance for my license. I was really nice to the man taking me out; I wore a relatively low cut top, and even made jokes about him trying to distract me by driving past topless (male) builders. Haha, I really crack myself up sometimes. And apparently my frantic head movements and general concentrating face paid off, with only 8 minors – I’m an R driver.

I won’t now have to rely on my parents for lifts all the time – and who knows where the road may take me. A few wrong turns and I may well be kidnapped by lesbians.

So Long School Days

2006-05-09T23:22:00.000+01:00

This is slightly later than usual, yesterday was a busy day. However, I am now finished school. I greeted this news with many, many drinks. I also told a teacher I loved her, and was propositioned by two girls who told me they heard I was a lesbian.

It appears I’m not as good at hiding myself as I might have thought. Not even my lesbianism. Although to be fair seeing as I won’t have to see most of those girls ever again, I’m not really that fussed. A teacher who I haven’t even spoken to in nearly a year pulled me aside to tell me she knew I was glad to be leaving because she knew I felt I had outgrown the school.

Sorry – what? That’s my observation. And it appears she picked it up from seeing me plodding around school. I almost felt bound to ask her for a further analysis of myself, but my glass was empty, so I went to the bar instead.

I have this fascination with what people derive from me. It may just be because, like many other people, my favourite subject is myself. However I think it’s more because I know how much I have to hide. I like it when people observe things about me, because often I don’t see them myself.

So it’s “so long school days”. A few more exams, and I will be officially rid of the place, and it will be rid of me.

The Gay Community's Bond

2006-05-07T22:56:00.000+01:00

I was at a concert last night. “Gloria”, a gay and lesbian choir from Dublin who were, for the record, excellent. A rather mixed repertoire, from Mozart, Stanford and Tallis for the choir buffs like myself, and some show tunes and Queen for the rest of the world.

In between the musical pieces some of the choir acted out humorous parts from their own coming out.

“Mum, I’m singing in a lesbian and gay choir”
“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Indeed, the gay community are very good at putting on a brave face. Many people see us as happy-go-lucky types. We’re all Jack from “Will & Grace”, we’re all the carefree types with no children and no worries. We’re the life and soul of the party.

And yet the undertone is always there, and sometimes it feels like non-gays just don’t get it. We may be a bright and proud community, but in some way or other every one of us has struggled to be where we are now, and still are struggling.

Every one of us has had to battle with inner demons, with friends, family and work colleagues who are unaware, tactless or just plain malicious.

So we make it humorous. We make jokes about closets and manic mothers. We hide behind figurative walls. And in hiding we make it all the more obvious to those around us that while we may be who we are, it wasn’t as easy as we made it look.

Many observers say the gay community is strange in the friendliness and general respect it shows each member. But given circumstances, even in the 21st century, is it any wonder?

Our common bond is not same sex feelings, but the pain of coming to terms and continued persecution.

And the award goes to......

2006-05-04T21:56:00.000+01:00

As school draws to a close, plans for the Leaver’s Dinner are in full swing. 150 little girls are lathering into a frenzy by talk of dresses and drink. I am the other hand and am only glad that this time I can get away with wearing trousers, and no, I won’t be wearing heels.

And as if having another excuse to dress up wasn’t quite enough excitement for girls about to enter into major exams, they are having their own version of the Oscar’s. This awards ceremony it would appear will be totally bitchy, and totally naff.

The awards being nominated for include “Best Ginger”, “Best Malteaser” brunette who is blonde inside), and even the tactfully named “Best Dyke”. As I’ve said before, the awards totally reflect my year, bitchy and generally meaningless.

Now there are a few I should be in the running for, although I’m happy enough to pass over “Most Like Vicky Pollard”. However, much to my amazement (and slight tinge of disappointment), I’m not even nominated for “Best Dyke”. Everyone who is nominated not only has a boyfriend, but I could totally beat them in a KD Lang pop quiz.

But then, of course I’m not nominated. Nominating me for such an award would almost certainly make me burst into tears, because I am (to the best of their knowledge) in a deep, deep pool of denial.

It’s also the unwritten law that you don’t vote for the person who really deserves the award in case they are offended. I mean, the person in the lead for “Best Ginger” went brunette at least 5 years ago.

It may also be a sign that I have succeeded in pulling the wool over every single one of their probing little eyes.

And to think, I have my coming out/acceptance speech all ready.

Dying to Diet

2006-05-02T22:16:00.000+01:00

Dieting is the meal of the day this week. One friend is on the particularly strenuous cabbage soup diet (urging me that she has lost 7 pounds in a week). Another friend is eating off a strict plan from the Doctor and spending every spare moment sweating it off in the gym. Although winning in the eccentric stakes this week is another friend who assures me that by keeping her body in a state of constant motion she will indeed reach her desired weight. All very well, but her consistent toe tapping and drumming on the table is rather infuriating.

At voting time for the Leaver’s Dinner Awards (Northern Ireland’s answer to the Oscar’s) a rather pass remarkable acquaintance told me she was voting for a girl in the aptly named “I’m so vain” category because she was ‘skinny’.

This is also the time for the art coursework, and I do hope that after it’s completion one of the art students will start eating again. Her work, entitled ‘Thinspiration”, while being very good, is making me worry for her health. I have tried subtly wafting thai sweet chilli crisps under her nose, but to no avail. Not even smoky bacon flavour entice her. Something is seriously wrong.

I am not on the cabbage soup diet/ the atkins diet/ the weight watchers diet/ the zone diet/ the south beach diet/ the blood type diet or indeed any other diet than watching my weight.

But I seem to be alone. All the more chips for me.

Time Draws Short

2006-04-30T17:26:00.000+01:00

I can now count the days I have left in my school on 2 hands. I am counting the hours and the minutes till the final bell. I am planning an end of school prank that will be suitable as ‘something to remember me by’, but not too extreme to get me expelled. I have my cycle helmet to stop me getting attacked by eggs by the nasty boy’s school who think it very mature to flour or egg as many girls as possible.

I look around the school I’ve been a part of for 12 years now and realise how much it’s changed. Aside from a spangly new building complete with varying degrees of technological advancement, the staff that first taught me have retired or moved on. Many of the pupils who hold memories of good times have also left their educational careers behind them. They don’t even have a school tuck shop any more.

I will not cry on my last day, the school has had too many of my tears over the years. I don’t really wish to leave with my boats burning behind me. As strange as it feels to say, never seeing all the people who have filled my days, at least between 8.50am and 3.30, again is a little daunting.

I know I’ll find myself wondering at some stage were they are and what they are doing. I’m nosey like that.

So much of the last few weeks of school is filled with such sentimental mush. Someone who has perhaps only spoken to me a few times in the last 7 years has no need to tell me how much they’ll miss me. I will miss people in varying degrees, and I hope those that I would miss will have the sense to keep in touch. It would even be a lie to pretend that I wish everyone in my year well.

“I probably won’t miss you that much. In fact, I don’t know you that well, but I’ve heard plenty of rumours about you. I don’t know what you plan to do with yourself next year, and to be honest I don’t care that much. Goodbye”

Rapidly Stressing Injuries

2006-04-27T19:12:00.000+01:00

It’s coursework time of year. Despite never missing a deadline and always working on my computing coursework, it’s still not anywhere near complete, and the deadline is tomorrow.

I’ve been sitting in front of the computer now since 9.10am this morning. I enjoyed my tea using a CD ROM as a coaster, and my lunch was spent looking out the window, because that counted as outdoor activity.

I have a problem with sitting at computers, not just because the coursework is mind numbingly dull or because the school computers have so many restrictions it is virtually impossible to get anything done, but because I’m gay. When I sit at the computer I have to sit like a proper dyke, slouched in my chair. I now have severe repetitive strain injury.

It’s in my back. It’s in my neck. It’s in my wrist, it’s even in my middle finger which I use for twirling the mouse wheel. Natural light pains my eyes. I am a ball of RSI.

A massage is very tempting, and seemingly a double entendre if you are a lesbian. I realise this after mentioning to a number of people how much I would love a massage about now. “Sure you do.”

So yes, no I won’t be attending the alternative rock night in a local pub tonight. I’ll be too busy lying on the floor.

I think I might go lie down.

Sniffing Herbal Tea Makes Me Strange

2006-04-25T20:51:00.000+01:00

Some of the best days of my childhood were those spent off school with a cold. I watched terrible makeover shows, played Super Nintendo (and later Nintendo 64), generally drugged myself up on Vicks and Lemsip and loved every minute of it. Perhaps this is why I have this unfortunate habit of sniffing my herbal tea. Which I’m doing right now. It means I can’t drink it in company, or people think I’m strange.

Not that I’m not strange anyway. In fact, I’m not normal. Whatever normal is.

A friend who isn’t necessarily homophobic, just had great difficulty understanding lesbianism. She does keep asking me how we ‘do it’, and I suspect she thinks I may have a secret willy (I don’t by the way). She is somewhat bewildered by it all, but is rather excited to have a lesbian friend. She ran to me on Monday morning to tell me her exciting news – she had been in a local gay bar with her friends.

Her friends are drama and dance types who were on a class pub-crawl. In her description of the company was ‘Katherine… you know… my friend… oh, but she’s normal… I mean… not gay’.

I could argue with this friend over the true definition of normal, however she hates me being philosophical. So we talked about her new manicure instead.

I could just stop being friends with her for being so hurtful, but she genuinely doesn’t realise it. I could force her to understand and be more politically correct, but her innocence amuses me greatly.

Maybe she’ll realise someday that gay people can be normal too. And that normal is boring.

Roots, Nodding and Anonymity

2006-04-23T22:06:00.000+01:00

I have roots. And I don’t mean the dark ones that people who dye their hair have. I have roots in my town, and this makes me sad. I walk around my town and I see people who I know from school, their siblings, my mothers friends, people from church, people who work with my friends and people who, despite the fact I don’t know them, I say hello to anyway – because I should know them.

I see myself coming back here in 10 years time and still wandering around nodding at everyone. Or worse, what if I’m the local who is being nodded at?

As a closeted Super Dyke, the prospect of anonymity appeals greatly to me. Not total anonymity perhaps, but just enough that I don’t feel my future will be influenced by my past. A city would suit me nicely. I don’t want to be lonely; I just want to be myself. I feel like my roots are dragging me back, but I don’t want to be a wanderer.

Is it any wonder that many lesbians pack up and move to the big smoke as quickly as they can slam the closet door? People in small towns always whinge that there are no lesbians there – is this because they also feel this migratory instinct? And when we migrate, are we doomed to return some day to find it all the same?

And would I even mind if I stayed away?

Hardening Myself

2006-04-20T17:18:00.000+01:00

I have been rattling on quite a bit recently about the struggle to accept your sexuality. It’s a difficult topic to broach because every person’s situation will be different depending on their friends, their family and what prior exposure to homosexuality they have had. I do know people to whom realisation that they were gay was not an issue – members of their family were gay, they had liberal parents and many of their friends were gay already. How I envy them.

And then at other times I reckon I am the lucky one. There are people who live most of their life in denial because of external pressures. People who know that the consequences of their sexuality would be so far reaching, they sacrifice their own happiness for that of others who will never even know the sacrifice they have mad. Some claim these people are in denial – but I have a great deal of respect for them.

I have thought many times over the consequences of my coming out. From worst to best case scenario. I reckon that really my parents do know about my sexuality, but I still reckon that if I was to come out with it, I’d still face their wrath.

Part of this self-realisation has been a hardening of myself. I was always fiercely independent, but I have perhaps gone further. I know it may be difficult, but if I was forced to sever all ties with my previous ‘life’, I would do it if it meant I was being true to myself.

Am I wary of close relationships because I realise that it all may change for the worse? Have I hardened myself, and in the worst case, could I really cope with going from having everything to having nothing by my self?

And is this burden one entirely overlooked by those investigating gay and lesbian mental health?

Fundamentalist Watch

2006-04-18T19:46:00.000+01:00

I thought it was interesting to read that anti-gay televangelist Jerry Falwell (www.falwell.com) lost a Supreme Court appeal. He took Christopher Lamparello (a gay man) to court after Lamparello registered a domain name (www.fallwell.com), which claimed that the evangelist’s teachings were wrong.

Falwell worries that people entering the incorrect web address will find themselves at the bogus site. However I should think “This website is NOT affiliated with Rev. Dr. Jerry Falwell or his ministry.” at the top of every page should make it clear enough.

I must admit to finding this quite humorous myself. If you care to visit www.belfastpride.org, you will find yourself redirected to the Stop The Parade Coalition’s website – in a most charming shade of pink. (The religious group are opposed to the Pride event). This is obviously meant to mislead us local gays. Just lucky we are smart enough not to be fooled by their little trick!

All this website business is quite worrying. I know a spelling mistake in Google (www.goggle.com) brings up lots of nasty adverts and so on.

So yes, if you come across any religious fundamentalists misspelling my blog address and trying to pass themselves off as me, do let me know. I might just send them a rude email or two.

Some other religious types have been putting the FUN into FUNdamentalist when they thought they'd go ruin everyone's Easter by yelling at the children and parents taking part in the White House Easter egg roll. Check out Woman's blog for a photo.

So yes, God still hates us all!

Dip Me In Chocolate....

2006-04-16T22:45:00.000+01:00

Happy Easter to one and all. I do feel a bit silly saying that to be honest. Easter always seems a bit of a non-starter each year, a bit like a watered down Christmas.

All the eggs that have been bestowed upon me, and the half price chocolate fountain I found in clearance in TK Maxx (which I haven’t bought… yet) got me thinking about one of those fabulously cheesy t-shirt slogans. “Dip Me In Chocolate and Throw Me To The Lesbians”.

I never really understood men wearing that t-shirt. Surely lesbians are likely to find a man covered in chocolate about as attractive as a man – and that’s not very. I mean, I quite like chocolate, but a chocolate covered man doesn’t exactly make my stomach rumble.

I mean, even a chocolate covered woman is a bit odd. And what about the lesbians who are lactose intolerant, allergic to wheat, gluton free or just on a diet? And those who only eat fair trade chocolate or just don’t like chocolate?

I really wouldn’t mind if one of the list of celebrities who I fancy appeared at my door covered in chocolate, but it isn’t exactly that romantic, plus chocolate all over my light blue carpet? I think not. I do believe I would have to hose Katherine Moennig down before I let her in to do my niceties.

So yes. Leave off the chocolate. Too many eggs today already .

Public Bars

2006-04-13T16:12:00.000+01:00

I’m generally not a big fan of ‘straight’ bars. Not only because I worry their clientele will judge me, or worse, punch my nose in, but also because I get hit on by ugly drunk men every time I enter one. I’m really not blowing my own trumpet, I’m not exactly a work of art deserving of adoration at every port, but basically in that setting I don’t want it.

Upon entering a straight bar last night I was assailed by no less than three ugly drunk men (and another one did wink at me). They asked if myself and my straight friend had boyfriends. When we said we did not, they asked if we were lesbians (in jest of course). Ha. Ha.

Having escaped from their greasy clutches and suggestive eyebrow movements (with only half a pint of Tenants spilled on my new trousers), I moved towards acquaintances at another table. I looked around. I like to think I have relatively good gaydar, but it did seem rather like most of http://www.gaydargirls.com/ had come to this quaint pub. And all the ugly drunk men obviously hadn’t realised.

So a number of knowing glances later I sidle over and say I think we’ve met somewhere before. Oh yes… at gay pride/women’s soccer/a gay bar.

Of course, the loud music did mean that all these prospective gays had to stand ever so close to be heard. Convenient. The ugly drunk men have obviously not picked up on this either. Nor had they picked up on the number of rainbow accessories and variations on the mullet present.

The ugly drunk men are the sort that generally dislikes gay people, making crude jokes and references to homosexuality. They also obviously can’t lift their eyes from their pints to notice that their watering hole is like a mini Soho.

Identity Fraud

2006-04-11T23:18:00.000+01:00

I like to think I’m quite sure of my identity. I am gay (if you hadn’t already gathered that.) I would be the first to say that coming to this conclusion was not easy. I spent many a late night doubting myself, I ended up in counselling and was generally pretty depressed around the time I was ‘coming to terms’ with who I am.

I don’t think that this struggle I went through makes me a worse person. I don’t think it makes lesbianism bad because of the pain I went through to discover it. I am proud of my identity. I’m proud to be a girl who loves girls. I’m proud to follow examples set for me by role models. I’m proud to be part of a community that is generally accepting and one that I feel comfortable in.

I’m not selfish, but being gay is MY thing. It is far from the defining feature of my life, but it does form an important part of my outlook on many things. I do object ever so slightly to my peers joining the ‘club’ without, to my knowledge, ever undergoing the strange induction ceremony that is ‘realisation’. Something that is very important to me, is a flippant weekend thing for them. While I spent quite a long time researching into what exactly my sexual preference was defined as, they just say…

‘Whatever.’

Homo History

2006-04-09T21:38:00.000+01:00

I find it most sobering to wonder over homosexuality through the ages. Perhaps it’s the historian in me coming out (pun not intended), or maybe it’s because looking at the history of secrecy and persecution, I can relate fully with lesbians hundreds of years ago.

Stories of homosexuality in history are somewhat scarce. Those that there are, are usually biased. It would be easy to imagine that lesbianism just didn’t exist, but it would be daft to say it never did. In the world of the time though, people faced persecution, they were condition to believe it was something horrible. In many cases, did women even really know what a lesbian was?

Sometimes I reckon I have it quite hard. Being trapped in a closet, Yet, I am lucky, I live in a relatively liberal society where there are really no laws to stop me being who I am. I can in theory associate freely. I can attend a clubs and pubs and pride events and be open about who and what I am. I can publish my thoughts in a blog.

It makes me wonder, if I didn’t know what a lesbian was, would I still be who I am? I think I would be. At age 14 it dawned on me that I was attracted to a woman who was attracted to woman. She was a lesbian. That made me a lesbian too.