Those first inklings

When I think back, trying to remember when I first felt a strong attraction for girls, I must have been only seven or eight years old. She lived right down the street. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and I thought she was so pretty. I loved going to her house to listen to Beatles albums. We would grab hair brushes and pencils to use as microphones and drumsticks. When we sang along to "Michelle," trying to croon as romantically as we could, I now realize *I* was singing to HER! She moved away after her parents divorced. I was devastated... until my next infatuation developed.

In fourth grade kids started taking band lessons. Though musically I never got beyond tooting one of those plastic recorders, I found another way to learn a little bit about music... and about myself. One cute classmate of mine was learning to play the coronet. She agreed to give me lessons. For the exorbitant sum of $.25, she let me blow her horn and tried to teach me how to read music. I never learned very much about playing the coronet, but I sure enjoyed spending time with her.



What's an adolescent to do?

The best thing about going to Junior High School was getting to take physical education!!! After catching grief all through elementary school for playing kickball and basketball with the boys during recess, I was finally able to be a tomboy and even get a good grade for it. Of course, I worshiped my gym teacher, Mrs. Miller. For those of you old enough to remember how girls' basketball was played in the sixties, *I* was always the player who got to go up and down the basketball court, while my teammates had to stay put at one end or the other. In the words of Kate Clinton, you know what they called the girl who got to play the full court? No, not the rover. The lesbian!!! Well, I loved PE and decided that it would become my profession when I grew up. So I started on my chosen career as soon as I could by having the honor and pleasure of being a PE assistant for a 7th grade class when I was in 8th grade. I was in heaven!

Seventh grade is also when I first think I fell in love with another girl. She was part Native American and had dark, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. I thought she was so beautiful. A neighbor of hers had a basketball hoop on their garage. I would go over there every chance I could to shoot baskets with her. I tried my best to "impress my date" with my athletic abilities! When her younger sister would join us, she would really give me some competitiion... both for her sister's attention and in ball skills. I would fight with that green monster... jealousy... 'cause I wanted to have sole possession of those times, any praise given, and the BALL! Within a year or two, our close friendship faded. After I came out and started exploring the gay scene, who did I run into in a gay bar in Bloomington, Indiana... her little sister!!! Who, by the way, shared with me that she actually got to KISS one of the PE student teachers we both knew from high school. How brash... how bold... how lucky! She had embraced her lesbianism long before I understood and accepted it as a part of who I am.

I adore several other girls during this time in my slow coming out process. Ahhhh, the many things I can remember doing to show my affection. Making special, humorous books as gifts for one; carrying a trombone case to school for another; spending hours on the phone giggling with a third. By now the infatuation with girls was really building. It just got stronger as I moved on to high school and even more female classmates to choose from.

Why can't I date a cheerleader?

As much as I tried to make myself want a boyfriend, in my mind I started fantasizing that *I* was the boyfriend. This was a safe way for my mind to understand the feelings I was having towards other girls. Even though I don't remember having a clear awareness of society's taboos regarding homosexuality, I knew it would be socially acceptable if I was a boy wanting a girlfriend and frowned upon if I was a girl wanting a girlfriend.

Almost every night while falling to sleep, I would daydream about being captain of the football or basketball team... a scholar athlete... with the current object of my affections receiving enough kisses, hugs, tenderness and romance to seal our love forever. Being a "gentleman," I never allowed my thoughts to include sexual fantasies. I had far too much respect, I rationalized, and kept my affections above the waist. I do recall wanting very much to touch another girl's breast... to cup those soft, fascinating mounds of flesh in my hands... perhaps to even slip my hand under a bra to touch bare flesh! Damn, I know now that if I had every gotten to that point in reality, I doubt I would have stopped there!



Awareness grows

The fantasies that started in Junior High continued in varying degrees until I finally acknowledged I was a lesbian, which meant it was perfectly natural for me to love women. However, about the time I returned to high school, after falling two years behind due to a battle won over Hodgkin's Disease, I began to make some relevant alterations in my thoughts and fantasies. Maybe, just maybe, the young women, whom I had crushes on at the time, would think it would be okay to kiss a girl... to kiss ME! Through my remaining years of high school and throughout my undergraduate years in college, I continued developing a cognitive awareness of this possibility.

Also during this time I became more aware of the existence of gays and lesbians in my world. A guy in high school became a dear friend and came out to me. He was very tall and thin, while I was much shorter and fat. We must have been a sight gallivanting around together. He took me to see my first adult XXX movie. I asked him to the Freshman Dance at college. I was drawn to certain women at college, but not because I had crushes on them. It must have been because I sensed they were lesbians and felt this innate pull to be around them. Later, after I had come out, I was surprised when a ssome of these friends told me that they either thought I WAS gay then or that they were just watching with amusement, waiting for me to realize it myself.



I love a woman

It was 1980. I had a graduate assistantship with the Physical Education Department at Oregon State University. She was a fellow grad assistant. Much shorter than me, red hair, blue eyes... a real cowgirl from eastern Oregon. We're talking a bona fide barrel racing, rodeo gal. I thought she was adorable. One afternoon, she wasn't feeling well. I went over to her apartment to nurse her back to health. As I was kneeling beside her bed, getting ready to go fix her something to eat, she raised up and gave me a quick kiss. When I got up and walked into the kitchen, I don't think my feet even touched the floor. I felt so light and giddy. There was some confusion there, too. But mostly joy... and pure, sweet love. A few days later, after recovering from her bug, we made love for the first time. WOW! Zowie!! Ohhhh, BABY!!! I finally KNEW how incredible the physical, sexual side of loving a woman could be. For the next two months, until I left Oregon to return to Indiana, we were practically inseparable.

We were both very much in the closet. In some ways, she was hiding even farther back behind the clothes rod than I was... or wanted to be. I rationalized that I was not necessarily gay... I just happened to be in love with someone who was a woman. I returned to the small midwestern town where I had gone to college for another year as a graduate assistant while working on my teaching certification. I spent the summer working for the university's grounds maintenance crew and contemplating who I was. I recall the summer day when I was talking to her long distance. She asked me if I thought I was gay. Without hesitation, I said, "Yes, I am." She replied, "Are you sure???" From that moment on, I was sure.

My acceptance, confidence, and pride in the undeniable fact that I am a lesbian has continued to grow since that day.

Seeking my own kind

So, there I was... a lesbian seemingly alone in the world. As I spent the summer comtemplative my newly embraced lifestyle, I knew I needed to find support, comraderie... maybe even romance. One Saturday with utter determination, I set out "In Search of Lesbians." I headed into Indianapolis with the intention of not returning until I had found a gay bar, preferably a lesbian one. When I got into town, I pulled over at a phone booth. Rifling through the yellow pages, I began searching for listings under "Women." One practically jumped off the page at me... "Labrys - a Women's Nightclub". I hopped back into my little Datsun pickup truck and headed over to the near Eastside of town. The building was pretty nondescript. I remember an imposing black door with the usual warnings to scare off the underaged. I took hold of the door and said this prayer, "Please, God, let there be nothing but women here!" I opened the door and entered a small anteroom. A little solid window slide open and a serious-looking woman stared at me for a second, then invited me in. With my heart pounding, through the second door I went...

HALLELUJAH!!! Women, women, women! It felt sooooo wonderful to be with my own kind. The straight world was shut out for a time. I could relax and be who I was. Needless to say, Labrys became a favorite weekend venue for me. Even had the pleasure of hearing Meg Christian perform there, as well as meeting sweet woman, who I dated briefly.



That first confrontation

Ahhhh, Greencastle Indiana. Home of my alma mater, DePauw University. A sleepy midwestern town where folks often have small minds and big mouths. After finishing the requirements to receive my teaching certification, I searched high and low for a position, but none was to be found. Seems I had certified myself in the two most surplus fields in teaching at the time... physical education and social studies.

I supported myself by delivering pizzas and substitute teaching. After staying up until 2am or later chatting with my buddy, Susan, the assistant manager of the Pizza King and one of the first lesbians I had the pleasure of meeting in Greencastle, my phone would ring at 6am and I would be requested to substitute for the Spanish teacher! I started substituting a lot for the special education teachers at the local high school. When an ad appeared in the paper for a Adult Education/Social Work Aide at a sheltered workshop for adults with developmental disabilities, I figured, "Hey, bet I can do that job. It's only minimum wage, but it's 40 hours a week."

Well, I got the job. Soon found out that I not only enjoyed it, but was pretty good at it, too. Shortly after starting, I discovered that one of my co-workers was a lesbian. She was a sweet and caring person, very funny and a real good cook. We began spending time together outside of work, just enjoying each other's company. Our executive director couldn't quite deal with that. Talk about homophobic! His thought processes were that if I was gay and Pat was gay, then we must be having sex in the women's bathroom at work!

One afternoon he called me into his office. He was obviously quite nervous. He hemmed and hawed about things like perceptions and agency image and such. I remember feeling extremely annoyed with his pussy-footing around the subject. Finally, I just cut him off from his ramblings and said, "Look, my lifestyle is my own business. As long as it doesn't interfere with me doing my job, which it doesn't, then it should none of your concern." I walked out of his office with such feelings of power and self-esteem. I had stared the homophobic monster in the eyes and I hadn't backed down. I had defended my lesbianism even under the threat of possible repercussions. Talk about GAY PRIDE!



Maybe cats are better

After awhile, small town life and the career opportunities available there both seemed too limiting to me. In 1982 I moved to the big city of Indianapolis to work for a large ICF-MR (Intermediate Care Facility for Mentally Retarded). I was also able to expand my circle of friends, both str8 and gay, and feel a bit more a part of the gay/lesbian community. I occasionally even gathered with friends to engage in that universal lesbian ritual... the Potluck!

I was an energetic young dyke, always wearing a bandana around my neck (I had dozens of them in every color & pattern imaginable) as my signature accessory. Though still not very far OUT of the closet, I was becoming less and less paranoid or fearful of what others might think of who I was. After all, I was just *me*. Same person I had always been. I just understood and accepted more about myself.

That 2000 miles was a move back to the glorious State of Oregon in 1986. When I left Oregon back in 1980 I promised myself that I would get back someday. When the opportunity came to relocate, I sold or gave away most everything I owned, packed a 6' by 4' UHaul trailer and my Renault Alliance with the remainder of my worldly possessions, tossed in my two cats and headed back to the Pacific Northwest.

My dear, sweet kitties, Maji and Mogee, shared their seventeen years on this earth with me by being devoted, loving, trusting companions. Even in the darkest, most painful times, they would be there to purr their belief in me and love for me softly into my ear or to curl up on my lap to comfort and calm me. While recovering from my broken heart, adjusting to my new home and job, and settling into life in Portland, they were unconditional with their love and undemanding of mine. Even though I've had to say good bye to both of them, they will always have a special place of honor amongst my "family"... four-legged and otherwise. Thanks, guys. I really loved you two.

Roles & labels... phooey!

As I age... mature (within limits)... and gain bits of insight and wisdom into life, love and the pursuit of happiness, I have developed a mixture of fondness and offense for those stereotypical roles and labels that womyn-loving-womyn have gathered or had flung upon them.