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Coming
Out of the Queer Closet
by Nedhera Landers
(continued
page 3)
It
took my second lover J., a soft butch and friend of twelve years,
to help me realize what being a femme could truly mean. I didn't
do any of those stereotypical things I had lodged in my head as
"femme behaviour." I didn't simper or mince or gossip or whine.
I was absolutely myself with her, and she responded so gently
and so much, I knew I'd found "home". I was completely taken over
by the giving over of my sexual power to my butch, caught in an
undertow of emotion, deeply immersed, but not struggling. We were
on fire night and day. She was kind and loving enough to handle
the powerful gift I gave her with respect and awe. I revelled
in the freedom of giving that gift each time we made love. It
was so new to me. I didn't understand that this was a primary
feature of butch-femme dynamics.
My
friends and family watched in amazement as I began to switch from
the 70's andro uniform to dresses and skirts and little heels
and purses that weren't from Guatemala. My lover got turned on
when I dressed up for her. I wanted to keep pleasing her. Besides
the fact that I loved her, I didn't want the sexual excitement
between us to end. I loved sending her that clear signal that
I was open and ready for the loving she offered me.
My
friends also observed how much happier and more self-confident
I was. I gained enough confidence to finally end things with D.
for good. We'd been orbiting each other for 2 1/2 years, without
love and sex. Now she wanted to install me in a townhouse in Indianapolis
to care for her hyper-active nephew. I was under 21 at the time
and was not ready to stop exploring what this change of loving
could bring. I knew that I wanted to feel that mix of being cherished
and not controlled over and over again. I wanted to make sure
that this was really the dynamic at work, and not just J.
J.
and I shifted back and forth between being lovers and friends
for about six years. During this time I began to notice the different
reception I received in the lesbian community. Because J. lived
in Indiana with her parents while attending school, we couldn't
live together. Much of the time, as with D., I was alone.
At
first, I felt perfectly comfortable in my dresses and heels, going
to lesbian functions and women's bars. But I started getting strange
reactions, like "You know this is a woman's bar, don't you?"
The
first time someone asked me that question, I laughed in their
face because I didn't know why she'd wonder. Of COURSE I was a
lesbian! Wasn't that obvious?
continued
page 4
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