to ask the hard question is simple

There is very little love lost between the LGBT community and the Christian Church. For every vitriolic, fire-and-brimstone preacher, there is someone like George Takei poking fun and holes in every biblical argument. It doesn’t help the Church’s cause when celibate priests have wandering hands and their gay-cure advocates clearly didn’t finish the whole course.

I grew up in a conservative Christian household – my mother still thinks Britney Spears is devil music – and homosexuality was never conversation fodder. Even in church, the minister rarely broached contentious topics. Then, one week, the vicar stood up to speak, and he opened with 1 Corinthians. The passage was essentially a list of sins that the apostle Paul deemed would inhibit entry into heaven. When he got to ‘sexually immoral’, the minister elaborated to include pornography. I was moments away from cheekily elbowing my suddenly quiet dad when I heard homosexuality being added. The elbow never happened.

For a whole week, my dad’s browser history was squeaky clean. The next Monday, a whole slew of interesting URLs cropped up. He’s human, but he made an effort, and I have no problem with that. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been exposed to some form of porn, willingly or in a Brazzers pop-up.

That still left me with the same problem. I couldn’t just make an effort and be straight for a week. When this sermon happened, I was 15 and had only recently accepted my gayness – as I was simply not nun-material, I desperately wanted someone, something to tell me I could be in a relationship and keep my faith without being a complete hypocrite.

My parents left me confident that if I ever came out, they’d pack my bags for me. Subsequent sermons by other church ministers were of the vitriolic variety, and most religious friends were edgy. The relevant bible passages were damning at best, and you need to think very late rally if you were to read anything condoning homosexuality in them.

Months went by, and life soldiered on while I struggled with my faith. One of my best friends, one of the strongest Christians I knew, told me she was bisexual and then promptly told me she didn’t believe in God anymore. I fell in love and into a relationship with my first and only girlfriend – ironically, a wonderful straight girl from a Catholic school. My religious conflict took the backseat for a while, but I never stopped praying.

It was summertime when the same vicar stood up again and delivered a sermon completely unrelated to homosexuality. While I’ve long forgotten what the sermon was actually about, one sound bite still resonates with me: the church isn’t full of hypocrites, because there’s always room for one more. No matter how much we preach, we all sin – as a result, we don’t have the right to judge. I am not proud to be gay, but neither am I ashamed. It’s a part of me that I cannot change and, while God can do things that we can only dream of, such a core part of us can only really be suppressed. My mother is lactose-intolerant; she is neither proud nor ashamed, and no amount of prayer is going to make her able to drink a pint of milk. But the best we can do is not to give up on our faith, simply because one aspect of ourselves isn’t up to scratch. Not being perfect is no excuse to dismiss Christianity as homophobic mumbo-jumbo.

Lesbian Misogyny

So same-sex marriage has just been granted in England and Wales and hopefully Scotland will be soon to follow. I know that the bill is far from perfect and there are a lot of improvements which could have been made here, but that’s a subject for another blog. In light of this turn of events, I think it’s appropriate to congratulate everyone who has been involved in making this important piece of history possible. Especially the many strong, amazing and inspiring queer women, who have been tirelessly campaigning to make marriage equality a reality. After all, we are one big united community… gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, queer and trans* women. However we wish to identify ourselves, we all stand together, supporting each other in the face of discrimination we experience in our everyday lives. We are welcoming and accepting. We don’t belittle or judge each other, and we embrace and celebrate the things that make us different… right?

Wrong!

You only have to look at Diva magazine’s blog, Everyday Lesbophobia (http://everydaylesbo.com/) for a plethora of examples of women being harassed in the street, jeered and intimidated for daring to express who they are. If you want to depress yourself even further, check out the twitter page @EverydayLesboph. However, the even more worrying fact that has come to my attention recently, is that some of the ugliest examples of persecution and discrimination come from within our own community. Yes folks, the ugly truth is that in reality, lesbians can be misogynists too! Recently I’ve heard so many disturbing stories from friends and acquaintances that it’s really starting to make feel sick! Over the last few days, I’ve been asking women to share their stories and experiences with me, and here are the results.

Across the board, the most common example was of women being verbally harassed by nightclub door staff and other lesbians for “not looking gay enough!”  I know that society likes to perpetuate a certain stereotype that we are all big giant hairy man-haters who dress like blokes and swig beer (and for those of us who do fit that stereotype, there is absolutely nothing wrong with it), but excuse me for being naive in thinking that our community was a bit more open minded than the rest of the general public.

Two friends shared similar stories from living in different cities (London and Manchester) with supposedly large, vibrant and diverse LGBT scenes. Groups of more feminine looking women being refused entry to a gay bar and being subject to comments from the bouncers such as “are you lost?” “Do you know that this is a gay bar?” “You’ll be eaten alive in there,” and “We don’t do hen parties” (I know… what the fuck?!?) among some of the particularly lovely ones. On both occasions, the groups were only allowed entry to the venues when a “gayer” e.g. butcher looking friend/girlfriend appeared to question where their friends had disappeared to. Some examples I heard were just plain ridiculous e.g. you’re not a “proper lesbian” if you’ve never seen the L word. Even more bizarre in my opinion, “I once dated a woman who always introduced me to her friends as straight – because I didn’t look gay!”

Then there are the more sinister examples. One quote I received disturbed me even more…

“I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been verbally abused for not looking gay enough… then there was the time I was punched in the face.”

This type of behaviour is degrading, wholly unacceptable and disgusting!

Am I misunderstanding the point of open and friendly LGBT inclusive spaces? I didn’t realise that femmes were second class citizens who need to be chaperoned by a butch daddy in order to enjoy a night out on the town… as a lady slightly on the butcher side, I don’t experience this problem, but I still find it incredibly offensive. This opinion feeds into the idea that two feminine women who are part of a couple aren’t “real” lesbians; that they are teasing, only there to be ogled for the pleasure and titillation of men. This therefore gives men the right to harass them, make inappropriate comments and ask if they can “join in.” Reading many of the comments on Everyday Lesbophobia, it would appear that many of us have come to expect this sort behaviour from men when out in public. However, I find it sad, confusing and even more surprising to learn that such ignorance can sometimes be perpetuated by other women. This type of prejudice is experienced by some women in our community to a greater extent than others – in particular, those who identify as bisexual or pansexual.

Those who identify into these groups have told me that they are often eyed with suspicion from within the community, and as such find it difficult to fit in. These women are often not taken seriously as it’s assumed that they are only “out for a fling” because “being straight has got a bit boring this week.” A few women told me that women they speak to on the scene think they must be in the closet, since “all bisexuals are just afraid to come out,” either that, or they’re all just “in denial.”

One of the most striking examples comes from a good friend of mine, who brought her boyfriend along to an equal marriage campaign event. “How can you fight for what you’re fighting for when you have a boyfriend?” she was asked by a complete stranger. A complete stranger who knows nothing about her circumstances and experiences, and who really has absolutely no right to make comment. I mean, why would a woman with a boyfriend want to campaign for equal marriage? Aside from the fact that she might think it’s the right thing to do, what does it matter if she happens to be with a man and happens to have the right to choose if she wants to marry him. However if she equally happened to be with a woman, that right would be denied to them. Why should something as trivial as gender have such a massive impact on the outcome of a person’s relationship, especially when gender doesn’t matter in that person’s heart?

Coming out as L,G,B,T, Queer etc. is not the same experience for everyone. However, many of us find it frightening and intimidating, especially with the prospect that we might be rejected by those closest to us. As a 25 year-old that came out at aged 13, a lot of that process seems like a distant memory, but I still remember the first time I went to a gay bar. I was underage, it was during the day and there were a grand total of about 8 people in there – most of them middle aged men. Regardless, I still remember it to be one of the most frightening and intimidating experiences of my teenage years. I’m now trying to imagine how frightening and traumatic this experience might have been, was I a young feminine lesbian, barely out of the closet, going for my first night out in a lesbian bar… only to be heckled at the door and told I wasn’t allowed to come in because I didn’t “look the right way.” After all, many of us want to experience that feeling that we belong somewhere, be it in our families, homes, friendship circles and wider communities. However most of us have a greater expectation of finding that sense of belonging among our LGBT communities.

Speaking of LGBT spaces not being inclusive, I (perhaps controversially) think that this should also apply to straight people. Yes, I live in lesbo land, but many of my nearest and dearest do not. However, if for example it happens to be my birthday, and I want to go out and celebrate in a gay bar… how dare my straight best friends want to come along and celebrate with me? Naturally, depending on the door staff, they are not always welcome.

Maybe this big happy queer bubble only exists in my head, where everything is a bit like pride. Everyone is happy and smiley, there’s lots of glitter and everyone looks fabulous and embraces each other. Why can’t we be more inclusive and welcoming of everyone who wants to be associated with our community? Why can’t we welcome each other with open arms? When we experience such persecution and discrimination from the wider world, why do we feel the need to propagate it among ourselves? This is particularly important for the younger members of our community who might not yet feel so certain about how to define their sexuality or gender identify.

None of us are the same, but our differences are something that I think we should be celebrating! We need to look past all the labels and remember all the things which we do have in common. It doesn’t matter if you’re straight, gay, lesbian, bi, pan, trans*, queer, asexual or any other minority identity. We all have a slightly different experience to bring to the table and we all know something about experiencing prejudice –especially if you are a woman. We should be working together to tackle homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, queerphobia, lesbophobia sexism and misogyny – not excluding each other on the basis of meaningless labels.  Inside, we are all strong and fabulous – isn’t that enough?

I’m not homophobic but…

Last week I experienced lesbophobia in a space I had previously thought of as ‘safe’. Big deal, we’ve all been there. However, this was different. It wasn’t violent – they expressed their hatred in words and they were good enough to speak at a reasonable volume so that’s a plus. What was different about it is that this person didn’t think they were homophobic.

I’ll summarise this conversation for you briefly.

Her: yadada yada yada relationship chat.

Me: Oh yeah I live with my partner.

Her: Oh how long have you lived with your boyfriend.

Me: I’ve lived with my girlfriend for just over a year. Recently we moved together which felt like a bigger deal than moving in together or maybe it was just more stressful haha.

*awkward pause*

Her: Oh I didn’t like to presume *looks at me quizically with a face that says ‘but you don’t have horns – you look just like me!‘*

Her: *insert awkward rant about sin* followed by this line

I have lots of gay male friends. I get they can’t help being gay but you know it’s different with them *pointed look at me*

So I cut that down and paraphrased a lot but the gist was that it’s ok to be a gay man – they just can’t help themselves because, you know, men are pretty or unstoppable sex machines or something. On the other hand, women should know better. Lesbians are doubly deviant. They have the audacity to be women and always banging on about equal pay or some other awful fight for rights and they are lesbians always asking to get married. Married! ‘The nerve of them’ heteropatriarchal society says to me.

Is lesbophobia homophobia I hear you ask fictional reader?

Well yes and no. I often use the term homophobia as a catch-all term for lesbophobia, transphobia, queerphobia and biphobia as well as the traditional use of the term for homophobic attitudes to gay men. However, using it as a catch-all term may not work when it is also used to refer to one group of gay men.

After experiencing this lesbophobic abuse I text my girlfriend to tell her I’d just experienced homophobia because my first thoughts were that’s what it was. I don’t believe this lesbophobe’s discussion of gay male friends was a simple ‘Oh I can’t be homophobic because I know this gay/met one once/saw one on TV and wasn’t repulsed’. It was much more disturbing. She was telling me that men have the freedom to love who they like but women should be grateful to be loved by men and stop messing things up for all the other women.

This got me thinking that maybe I shouldn’t use homophobia as a catch-all term because there are times when we aren’t all in this together. Don’t get me wrong, I love the inclusivity of the queer and LGBT communities but sometimes I experience specific lesbophobia and queerphobia. When I’m told I don’t need a smear test because I’m a lesbian, that isn’t homophobia. When I’m out with my trans friend and we need to find a different pub because there isn’t a bathroom they can use (or they get kicked out of one), that isn’t homophobia. When I hear for thousandth time that so-and-so is ‘actually’ gay but they think being bisexual is more socially acceptable, that isn’t homophobia. When I have to defend my definition of queer lesbian yet again because I’ve been too honest with someone that likes the gender binary more than real people, that isn’t homophobia.

Of course we should tackle homophobia but we should remember that there are situations that homophobia doesn’t always cover depending on your definition. There is also a bigger issue here that knowing that one gay person or being gay doesn’t mean you can’t be biphobic, lesbophoic, queerphobic, transphobic or homophobic. Although I love queer communities, I have found LGBT groups can be pretty biphobic, transphobic and queerphobic.

Are we all in this together?