Watched the documentary ‘Can I Be Me’ about Whitney Houston’s fiery life last night and it was, as you can imagine, very sad but sad for so many fucking reasons. So Manyyy. Fuck.
Such a radiant soul
Such a warrior
Such an angel
So darlings, here’s the thing: I was essentially heterosexual for the first 26ish years of my life and I would say I’m pansexual, in every sense. Several years ago I fell head over heels for a radiant woman, who has transitioned, and is now a radiant person, and nothing could have prepared me for how much the world at large absolutelyyy hates lesbians and queer womyn. Nothing. None of the trials in my life prepared me for the isolation, the anger and the deep well of sadness I would have to wade through because I was a woman who loved a woman.
Many friends turned on me
Many of my fans turned on me
My family even
Even my queer friends turned their back and revealed their homophobia with flamboyant flippancy. Everyyything became because I was ‘a lesbian’. It didn’t matter that I love animals, I like cats because I’m lesbian. It didn’t matter that I’ve had so many fucking injuries as a professional dancer for over 10 year, I wore flats because I was a lesbian. It didn’t matter that they’re cute and comfy as fuck, coveralls were suddenly a neon LESBIAN arrow over my head.
A few years before I ‘Became A Lesbian’ I attended a lovely sapphic afternoon event which had me spinning and floating home, escorting on her way home too, a gorgeous angel. On the train platform I put my arm around her and kissed her darling soft face, breathed in her many perfumes and gazed deeply into her eyes. And for the first time that day, she shifted uncomfortably, uneasy and I can’t remember now the words but almost something like: I don’t normally do this, like in public… And I didn’t clock it because I was on a cloud and I hadn’t experienced homophobia directly before and it took me years to understand why this brave, beautiful, powerful, intelligent woman was afraid.
Lesbians are invisible
Lesbians are punchlines
Lesbians are ‘useless’
Lesbians are ‘ugly’
Lesbians are ‘cheap’
Lesbians are ‘drama’
Lesbians are ‘angry’…
I once had a venue manager say to me: “we loved the event you put on, made lots of money, well attended and we’re really happy no angry lesbians showed up.” Not verbatim but pretty much. My jaw dropped. I was in one of London’s lauded queer venues, listening to a gay man (who was backed up by his queer associate who watched my heartbreak and felt it was appropriate to say: Rubyyy! There are angry lesbians who come to events!) and I couldn’t believe this was fine. This was normal. This was acceptable.
And guess what?! Maybe lesbians are fucking angry because they’ve done so much and they still face so much prejudice from the WORLD, including their own community, and you try balancing your emotions when you’re experiencing intense homophobia and misogyny simultaneously, consistently. When your – as I like to call it – dick privilege dissolves and you no longer have a connection to someone’s cock, you’re worthless, voiceless and pointless to so many. We are all socialised to be homophobic but there’s a special place in social hell for lesbians. And it’s in a basement. With one bartender for every hundred people. And it’s lonely. And it’s self hating. And it’s not fair.
And you’re reading this and you’re thinking: how can this be? It’s not true! Not Me!
Yesss, You Too
Yes, You Do
The good news is: I’m here and I’m activelyyy angry!
My rage is no longer eating away at my heart, it is paving a path forward
I have the partnership and love in my life of an angel, a goddess and a Prinx.
I’ve made it over a river of fire.
But Whitney’s not here.
She didn’t make it.
It consumed her.
I’m sorryyy Whitney.
Rubyyy / Rebecca / Rose