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Printed
in the August 1999 Girlfriends Issue
Queer
and Present Danger
Are dyke issues getting lost in the LBGT movement?
By Alix Dobkin
When
my friend asked some men why they were marching in last year's
San Francisco Dyke March, they answered that they wanted to support
dykes. "Then go to the side and cheer us on!" she told them. They
ignored her. After all, our gay "brothers" are men, and as men
in a man's world, they are entitled to be anywhere they want.
Whenever
I talk about women, as I often do while touring at universities,
I can count on at least one female student asking, "But what about
men?" This happens whenever nonfeminist women are asked to prioritize
themselves as women. So it's not surprising to me that young lesbians
who came of age after the feminist movement of the 1960s and 1970s
are now identifying as "queer." It's also not surprising that
many lesbian activists now are describing themselves as part of
a "lesbigay" or "LBGT" movement, thereby identifying themselves
with men and men's issues.
I
have a problem with that, not because I don't think it's important
to make coalitions with other groups. I have a problem with lesbians
identifying as "queer" or working in a "queer" movement because
a movement run by men has no use for examining power relationships
between men and womenónor respect for sacred women's space. These
lesbians who identify as queer, gay, or LBGT always want to include
men in lesbian events. Gender studies is replacing women's studies
in the academy, and "queer" is replacing "dyke" in the streets.
Yet
heteropatriarchy, the institutionalized heterosexual male dominance
first identified 25 years ago by lesbian feminists is still very
much in place. Feminism means being deeply loyal to women and
our interests, and no longer serving men and their interests.
When these interests conflict, feminists put women first. Feminism
demands that we reverse our priorities and remake our self-image.
That's just too hard for some people, not to comprehend, but to
live. But why?
In
a world, dominated by men and ours still is, men of every race,
class, and culture enjoy universal access to women. Lesbians,
like all women raised in patriarchal societies, have been conditioned
over thousands of years to feel incomplete without a man to validate
our existence. Each and every woman carries in her bones the memory
of the most savage penalties devised by man for disobedient woman.
Logical and compelling as our feminist analysis of patriarchy
is, not one of us truly escapes. But some of us try.
Enter
the concept of "women-only." After 25 years it is still the most
courageous, most radical, and most threatening action women can
undertake in patriarchy. Remember your first women-only event?
Mine was in 1971, during my prelesbian days in New York City when
I had just started learning about feminism through my consciousness-raising
group. I walked on air for days. Women-only! I loved it instantly,
then and now. It just feels different. But for too many dykes,
the ideas and passions of lesbian feminists appear foreign, and
the experience of women-only space seems alien in a world where
lesbian consciousness has been absorbed into men of all genders
and queers of all nations.
Think
gay culture and lesbian culture are one and the same? Obviously,
you haven't walked into a gay male bookstore lately. "I find it
very empowering," rhapsodized the proprietor of a popular gay
male Web site recently, "to see all these people with so much
energy and enthusiasm about sucking cock." Just as "gay male"
has nothing to do with women, "lesbian" has nothing to do with
men. We are connected to gay men only as victims of bigotry. But
is that really how we want to be identified?
To
most people, the words "gay" and the more defiant "queer" both
denote men, with women in an auxiliary role. Both are therefore
less dangerous labels than the woman-centered "lesbian." Just
ask Ellen DeGeneres, who could barely pronounce the word "lesbian"
even after she came out as one.
Women
gain validity by aligning with men, and men's support can help
women survive life in a man's world. In addition, some men are
genuine allies to women. I, too, include myself in progressive,
antiracist, Jewish, and sometimes even queer communities. But
I'm much more than a sexual minorityóthe category that lesbians
have been dumped into ever since we helped everyone else come
out.
My
mission is to explode the stifling controls of what's considered
normal, to advance that which frees us from the confines of those
who would dominate us and dictate our choices. As a feminist,
I want every creature on earth to freely fulfill her, or his,
creative, unique destiny.
In
a way, I like the fact that increasing numbers of young people
feel secure enough and yet defiant enough to name themselves as
queer. Women standing up for women have created whatever safety
exists for anyone who chooses personal freedom over conformity.
That's our job and we do it better than anyone else. In a way,
the current popularity of queer identity among young lesbians
reveals our success. It reflects women's universal desire to champion
the oppressed, to enlarge a safe and comfortable community, and
to widen and diversify our world.
But
homophobia and lesbophobia are as different from each other as
men are from women. And like men and women, they are not interchangeable.
Homophobia means fear of homosexuality or fear of one's own homosexual
desire. Lesbophobia means fear of women-centered beingóthat is,
women without men. It's the end of civilization as we know it.
And it can't come soon enough for me.
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