1970 The Ladder, April-May 1970, Vol. 14, No. 7 and 8 [p. [1]] | [Page Image] [p. 2] | [Page Image] SIXTH BI-ENNIAL CONVENTION PLACE: NEW YORK CITY TIME: JULY 10, 11 and 12 - 1970 Complete Information on registration and program has been mailed to youseparately. EVERY MEMBER WHO CAN SHOULD ATTEND THE CONVENTION. The New York Chapter of DOB is going all out to make this the mostmemorable weekend of your life. In addition to the entertainment provided at the Convention--the GeneralAssembly meetings determine the next two years of life for DOB. THIS ISSUE CONTAINS A PROXY BALLOT FOR YOU TO USE IF YOUCANNOT ATTEND THE CONVENTION. If you do not have a friend whomyou wish to carry your vote to the convention, you may send your proxy toCONVENTION PROXIES, c/o RITA LAPORTE, NATIONAL PRESIDENT,DOB, 1005 MARKET STREET, ROOM 208, San Francisco, CALIF.94103. purpose of the A WOMEN'S ORGANIZATION FOR THE PURPOSE OF PROMOTING THEINTEGRATION OF THE HOMOSEXUAL INTO SOCIETY BY: 1. Education of the Lesbian, enabling her to understand herself and to makeher adjustment to society in all its social, civic, and economicimplications--by establishing and maintaining a library of both fictionand non-fiction literature on the sex deviant theme; by sponsoring publicmeetings on pertinent subjects to be conducted by leading members ofthe legal, psychiatric, religious and other professions; by providing theLesbian a forum for the interchange of ideas within her own group. 2. Education of the public, developing an understanding and acceptance ofthe Lesbian as an individual, leading to an eventual breakdown oferroneous taboos and prejudices--by public discussion meetings and bydissemination of educational literature on the Lesbian theme. 3. Encouragement of and participation in responsible research dealing withhomosexuality. 4. Investigation of the penal code as it pertains to the homosexual,proposing and promoting changes to provide an equitable handling ofcases involving this minority: group through due process of law in thestate legislatures. [p. 3] | [Page Image] Published bi-monthly by the Daughters ofBilitis, Inc., a non-profit corporation, 1005Market Street, Room 208, San Francisco,California 94103. THE VOLUME 14 No. 7 and 8 NATIONAL OFFICERS, DAUGHTERS OF BILITIS, INC. Chapter Presidents are also included on The Board THE LADDER STAFF THE LADDER is regarded as a sounding board for various points of view on thehomophile and related subjects, and does not necessarily reflect the opinion ofthe organization except such opinions as are specifically acknowledged by theorganization. April/May 1970 IN THIS ISSUE: Cover: "Mermaids" by F. Landi, Statue in park adjacent to the ClevelandMuseum of Art. Copyright 1970 by Daughters of Bilitis, Inc., San Francisco, California [p. 4] | [Page Image] 2nd BAY AREA WOMEN'S COALITION CONFERENCE Report by Jess K. Lane In February the Second Bay AreaWomen's Coalition Conference brought togethera dozen or more groups and organizationsconcerned with different aspects ofwomen's liberation. The conference washeld in Gresham Hall of Grace Cathedral inSan Francisco, with about 200 womenparticipating. The age spread appeared to befrom teens to seventies, with the majorityprobably in their twenties and thirties. Subjects reported on and discussedranged from repeal of abortion laws andaction taken, through the endless spectrumof job discrimination, what is being done topromote child care to release youngmothers; International Women's Day;women's centers in Los Angeles and SanFrancisco; and peripheral matters. Of particularinterest to LADDER readers was thelate afternoon panel discussion ofLesbianism with representatives of NOVA,DOB and Gay Women's Liberation participating.This inclusion on the program wasan advance over the first Caucus held lastautumn when Lesbians were kept invisibleas far as the program was concerned--untilthe demand from the floor that BOBNational President Rita Laporte be asked togive a report on the work of her organization. The Lesbian panel, climaxing the Conference'safternoon session with time allottedfrom 3:00 P.M. to 3:40 P.M. plustwenty minutes for discussion from theaudience, proved a climax indeed, andhighly dramatic. More than one womanavowedly "straight" said she found thefrank talks of the panelists and subsequentaudience interchange the most profoundpart of the program. The DOB panelmember, Pat Davis, met head-on the problemthat organizations such as NOW andother women's liberation groups have inopenly acknowledging having Lesbian membersand in coming out against discriminationtowards this minority. Pat cited herown experience in trying to interest aheterosexual woman in the Women's LiberationMovement as fairly typical. Thewoman argued that the "feminists are allman-haters and probably gay"; hence, she didnot care to associate with them. We all know the extent to which men, and somewomen, throw this "charge" about, intimidatingwives and girlfriends who fear to lose"their men." Commenting that the argumentis as silly as the one that attempts toundermine ail radical or reform movementsin the U.S. by labeling them communist-inspiredor dominated, Pat responded: If thefeminist movement Is "nothing but a bunchof Lesbians," then why on earth are wecollectively working so hard for child carecenters and abortion law change? To the"charge" itself, we ought all to say, So what!"To spend time answering it is a waste ofeffort ... there is so much that can uniteus as women--so many areas where we canwork together--so let's get on with it."This approach makes sense, she said, if onlybecause most aware Lesbians and non-Lesbiansalike know that they are more discriminatedagainst because they are womenthan for any other reason. This is especiallyso as women work and reach towards morerewarding and higher paying jobs and responsiblepositions, in whatever field. The spokeswoman for NOVA, who didnot identify herself by name, acknowledgedthe "fear" of Lesbianism that many womenfeel and express, but declared, "We sufferthe same discrimination that all womenmust face. We feel that we can legitimatelyclaim to be your sisters in the movement."She said that NOVA leaned rather to thesocial than the sociological, however, providingparties, sensitivity group action andrecreation. The traditional anonymity of the majorityof homosexuals, their tendency to assessthemselves in society's terms, and almostmasochistic acceptance of prejudice againstthem was quietly challenged by the GayWomen's Liberation panelist, Alice Molloy.A poised young woman, jeans-and-sweaterclad, she projected the unaggressive poise ofone who knows herself, accepts who she isand expects acceptance from others. Thetime has come for openness, honesty, forhomosexuals to stop trying to "pass"--"like Jews in a country club" as price of therewards of "respectability," she suggested.Times have changed, as reflected in themore profound understanding of human [p. 5] | [Page Image] Prior to the Lesbian panel, Pam Allenreported on the Women's Center plannedfor San Francisco. Among the many suggestionsdiscussed were several calling attentionto the apparent ignoring of the Lesbianwoman in the original proposal and outlineof services. Submitted to the Women'sCenter by DOB's National President RitaLaporte and Vice-President-West Jess K.Lane, in summary, these additions to Centerservices were recommended: 1. A Lesbian department. 2. Inclusion of the Lesbian in researchon women. 3. Easily accessible information andliterature on Lesbianism in theCenter library and other informationsources it may make available. 4. Non-judgmental referral to suitableadvisers for girls and women feelingLesbian Impulses and needingguidance. It would take far more space than THELADDER has available to do justice to theConference as a whole. Like the first one, itwas outstanding in its blending of goodorganization with informality, and the concisenessand brevity of the many speakers,many of whom packed dynamite charges ofactivity and information into ten andfifteen-minute presentations. "Leaders" and"leadership" were not stressed but ratherplayed down, with interchangeable chairwomenor spokeswomen for the variousgroups or activities. The aim throughout theWomen's Liberation Movement is to encourageevery participating woman to developher own initiative--and initiatives--and to act and serve wherever needed. Innaming the following spokeswomen, therefore,let it be understood that anothermember of the group mentioned may betaking the responsibility on another occasion.Victoria Selmier of NOW launchedthe Conference with brief comments andintroduced the participants in the morningsession. These were: Del Martin (co-founderof DOB) who gave a moving eulogy for thelate Inka O'Hanrahan, a long-time workerfor women's place in the sun and a friend ofLesbians, according to Miss Martin; DariGillespie who spoke for the SociologyCaucus, University of California atBerkeley; Women, Inc. was represented byHazel Hall who works with union women ofCrown Zellerbach's Fibreboard Corporation,fighting job discrimination; Jean Crosstold of plans for International Women'sDay, March 7-8, for which events arescheduled also for the previous and followingweeks, to include art showings, poetryreadings and much more, centered at GlideMemorial Church. Florence Vande Bogart reported on theAd Hoc Committee on the Status ofWomen Commission, pointing out. regretfullythat legislators with bills designed tohelp women were not getting enough verbaland written support from women. Help!Joan Jordan spoke for Independent CampusWomen of San Francisco State College,particularly concerning the need for child [p. 6] | [Page Image] Virginia Selmier reported for NOW'sNorthern California chapter; ShirleyBarnard for NOW's Southern Californiachapter. A report on Women's Caucus onthe Media was given by Barbara Falconerwho said her committee had been trying toget more women engaged for air time; moreby-line women writers; an end to downgradingof women, so prevalent in themedia. There was agreement, she said, thatWomen's Liberation need a song of its own.Following the lunch break, SheriffJensen gave a full report on the AbortionInitiative Project--which is gathering momentum.Both Dr. Nancy Cross and BrendaBrush made contributions to the "CaseAgainst the Newspapers and EEOC." Themeeting learned that Brenda Brush had filedsuit requesting that television expand itscoverage of visual roles for women toinclude jobs in the mechanical and constructionfields. There were many more speakers, bothfrom the platform and the floor, reflectingan energy and dedication to betterment ofall phases of life for women, and justifyingthe remarks of Victoria Selmier who said atthe beginning of the Conference: "Youcan't stop an idea when its time has come.Our idea's time has come. It is 4,000 yearssince societies were matriarchal or equal asbetween the sexes. Since then we haveendured the smog of patriarchal fallacies."This Coalition Conference as well as the onepreceding it are heartening evidence, alongwith all else that is going forward in theWomen's Liberation Movement, that thissmog is no longer to be endured withpatient, prone submission but is to betackled like all the rest of the pollution thatis insulting Mother Earth. Right on! as theyoung people say. (Jess K. Lane, our vice-presidenton the West Coast, is, under her ownname, an editor, free lancer and poetof note, a lifelong feminist andlong-time member of DOB.) Lesbian Life in England by Val Vanderwood American Lesbians who visit Englandthese days have a pleasant surprise in storebecause the contemporary Lesbian scene ishealthily upbeat, expanding, and communicative!The past decade, in fact, has been asprogressive a change as a walk from darknessinto dawn. Other than that swinging, long-establishedGateways Club, there are few gay barsexclusively for women; however, the girlsare busily establishing many private socialclubs throughout the country and thesefulfill the need for Lesbian companionshipat the local level, as do D.O.B. chapters herein the United States. Unlike D.O.B. chapters,these social clubs are each totallyautonomous, financially and legally, withoutaffiliation to any central body orcharter. Attempts to develop multiple chaptersof the same organization failed back inthe mid-60's and the philosophy of localautonomy has become the prevailing pattern.While this pattern offers the greatestindividual freedom for each of the socialgroups, it means that communicationamong the groups is limited by proliferation.Fortunately, the Lesbian publication,Arena Three, includes news notes about afew of the social clubs which have formedor are forming, or it would be virtuallyimpossible for an outsider to contact otherLesbians in the same region for the purposeof socializing. For the prospective visitor to Englandwho is primarily concerned with Lesbianactivities, then, the two organizations mostlikely to be of value during a vacation areArena Three and social clubs such as theLondon-based KENRIC. The previouslymentioned Arena Three Lesbian publicationwas founded back in 1963 and currentlyhas a wide readership, not only in Britain,but around the world. Interestingly, nearlyhalf of Arena Three's first subscribers wereD.O.B. members from the United States, sothere has been a camaraderie from one sideof the Atlantic to the other since the verybeginning of its publication. Arena Threehas been instrumental in the establishmentof Lesbian social clubs and in providing afocal point for their news; it has also beenuseful as a sounding board for a variety of [p. 7] | [Page Image] KENRIC is the largest and oldest of theEnglish social clubs, having been founded inLondon during 1964 by former members ofthe Arena Three staff. Claiming a membershipof over 300 women it is an organizationwell worth joining if a traveler anticipatesspending more than a week or two inLondon. The annual membership fee of$2.50 includes a monthly newsletter whichoutlines its social calendar. A typicalmonth's calendar might include: a privatehome dancing party, a public lecture, anevening at the Gateways Club, a theater ormovie function, a discussion group (similarto Gab 'n Java), a literary event, a musicgroup, or various outdoor activities. Inaddition to its many social activities,KENRIC does have serious purposes whichextend beyond mere conviviality. Its goals--"To remedy the sense of isolation byarranging meetings, discussion, and otheractivities ... to offer sympathetic adviceto members who have problems not requiringspecialized knowledge ... and toeducate public opinion and improve knowledgeon the subject of Lesbianism bycomplying wherever possible with requestfor speakers or written articles ..." indicatea sense of responsibility and service notunlike those of D.O.B. They do not, however,publish anything except their newslettersocial calendar. The subscriptionaddress: KENRIC, BM/KENRIC, London,W.C. I, England. Lesbians who have time for an extendedtour of the British Isles, or who expect tolive outside of the London area, will findthe news notes in Arena Three of great helpin pinpointing similar social clubs throughoutEngland. The more serious vacationer may beinterested in the work of the homosexualresearch-oriented organizations such asMinorities Research Trust, Albany Trust,and the more recently established ScottishMinorities Group. Under a different name,Minorities Research Trust played an activerole in the formation of Lesbian organizationsin the early 1960's. Its presentconcern is exclusively related to LesbianBritish women, especially research, and itreceives some financial support from thesocial clubs that wish to support its researchactivities. Impressions of Lesbian life in Englandwill, of course, vary from person to person,depending upon a number of factors such asthe areas visited, length of trip, friendships,etc. Nonetheless, certain aspects of everydaylife are apparent to even the mostcasual observer. The most obvious fact toan American woman is that the entirestandard of living is generally lower inEngland than in the U.S.A. and that theearning power of women is often lower thanthat of the male. The past role of women inEngland was subjugation to male dominancealthough the current generation ismaking strides toward economic equality.Even so, our Lesbian sisters in England haveless money to spend than we do and theirmaterial possessions are fewer in number.There are exceptions, no doubt, but formany English women it means a constantconfrontation with financial concerns--notfor the basic necessities, perhaps, but certainlyfor the extra conveniences, comforts,and possessions that Americans have cometo take for granted. This should not beconstrued to mean that English Lesbians areless happy than their American counterparts,however!!! Their daily lives are filledwith the same problems, joys, fears, andaccomplishments as our own. Maintaining ahappy relationship in one's love life, withone's family, on one's job, are just as vital.Having a home, friends, recreation and hopefor the future are no less important. Aspeople, women, and Lesbians we are varietypersonified, yet the commonalities existand dominate. Our common language givesus the tool for communication, Yank toEnglish or English to Yank. The more relaxed pace of living wheretradition and custom permeate the fabric ofdaily existence make England a most.pleasant country to visit, for in spite of itsintensive metropolitan population center,the English countryside remains pastoral,charming, and by American standards, easyto reach. Public transportation in Englandputs our own to shame, both in cost andaccessibility, and as for entertainment, [p. 8] | [Page Image] But whatever else American Lesbiansappreciate about life in England, all willenjoy that fact that a Lesbian act is notillegal there! as it is most of our states.Merry Old England, thanks to QueenVictoria (who reputedly refused to believethat two women could make love ... andwho consequently would not permit legislationto be passed citing Lesbian acts as acrime), has never made Lesbianism illegal.This is quite unique since sex acts betweenhomosexual males have been illegal forgenerations. Only recently, in 1967, haslegislation finally been passed whichpermits sex acts between consenting maleadults. The fact that there is no law againstLesbian acts, however, should, not be presumedto mean that no social pressures orpublic censures exist. Quite the contrary!There are many pressures and censures ...a vivid reminder that one may legislate butnot necessarily educate the public. At thesame time, one senses that British girls arenot as heavily pressured to date as early asAmerican girls are, that they are not pushedso hard to be "popular"--to be socialbutterflies, and that remaining legally singleis more acceptable than once it was, all ofwhich augurs well for the Lesbian. Conversationsheld with numerous women fromthe English social clubs, however, indicatethat English women are still not likely totell their parents and friends that they areLesbians. Only a small proportion indicatedthey had or ever would label themselvespublicly. The fact that there is no legalpunishment against Lesbianism is reassuringto the traveler, nonetheless, even if it is notcarte blanche to ignore current socialmores. In England today, as in America,society's attitude toward the Lesbian seemsto be moving into a profound phase ofdevelopment, perhaps as part of the growingcivil rights movement in general. Books,films, newspaper and magazine articles onthe Lesbian are available today that wouldnever have been permitted a decade ago,except as psychiatric case studies or researchprojects. What the dimensions of thisinformation will do to the public moodremains to be seen. Can any society siftthrough the ideas being presented in thevarious media and find that kernel ofunderstanding which is requisite to acceptanceof sexual differences? While minority advances during the1960's have been too blatant to be ignoredand too powerful to be relinquished in bothEngland and the U.S., past experience withother civil rights groups suggests that thecost of gaining full equal rights will beunattainable without the support of thegeneral public and without great dedicationof time, effort and money on the part ofLesbians themselves. Their voice must beheard, not merely through the work ofresearch, but individually and also collectivelythrough the power or organization. Eachhuman being can influence society'sopinion toward Lesbianism in both subtleand direct ways ... and nearly everyonecan make some monetary contributiontoward the organizations working on theirbehalf. Other civil rights organizations aresucceeding, why not our own? To achieve maximum success, however,we must somehow gain more volunteerleadership and support, in both Englandand America, for our Lesbian organizationsand publications. We need both leaders andfollowers, the dreamers and the doers. Wemust continue to sustain the movement butalso to accelerate its growth and power. Tothose dedicated women who have alreadymade their contributions we are, of course,effusively grateful, but it is not enough tosay to that benevolent corps of stalwarts,"Thanks for the work you've put in already... cheers and Godspeed." No, talk is notenough. More of us must now join hands intheir circle of deeds and add to theircontributions. It is possible to encompassthe globe with a commitment of time,finances, and dreams. Indeed, this can be anera to remember ... an era for history tocommemorate ... a freedom renaissance! Although vacations are enjoyable andvisits to foreign countries pleasurable, don'twe all have a common task to do, as well?Why not an international Lesbian organization,or at least an international subsectionas part of our existing organizations? Thishas been spoken about before but noconcrete steps have been taken to make theidea a reality. [note] As mankind keeps rediscovering, we [p. 9] | [Page Image] Where are those ten stoutheartedwomen who will soon give us ten thousandmore? They are urgently needed for the"Well of Loneliness" revolution in England,in America, and the world over. women's wing by Jocelyn Hayward To write about the girl in 42, I have towrite as much--more perhaps--about thewomen's wing. Because only if you understand just howit is in this awful, aseptic citadel of femalesexuality, primal and complacent, will youknow why the girl in 42 is so important tome. For instance, the first I hear of her iswhen the little Armenian says she is in for asex change and the walking patients believeit word for word. I do not. Already I knowenough of the walking patients to knowthat either they are scared of the girl in 42or else they are looking for a gossip subject. They gossip dreadfully, the walkingpatients. Slipslop into each other's rooms,slipslop down to the stark little grove ofvisitors' chairs by the glass doors. "--she don't eat what they bring so howshe expect to get milk for the baby--" "--tell you, women suffer a lot for men.Two needles I'd to call for last night,dear--" "--heard the doctor say she'd ovaries onher like beach balls. Tubes'll be all to helltoo, you ask me--" You get the idea. I mean, no one hasovaries like beach balls surely. But to listento them, all these women have beach ballovaries or strangulated tubes or somethingvery nauseatingly female. Even the grandmother with varicoseveins in 15, they say, got that way frombeing given too many pregnancies when shewas young. All they talk about is the labyrinthineentanglements of their female organs, andtheir men. They use the same tone of voicefor both. When the little Armenian asks if I ammarried and I say no, she says "Ah lucky"in a tone you might use to someone whohas won ten scorpions in a raffle. She saysher husband is not a bad man. He works She is making him sound like a sale-pricewashing machine so I ask curiously if sheloves him. I think I have said a dirty word. Herhead shoots up, she stares and mumbles "Ofcourse," and then goes on quickly to tellme how many pints of blood she lost withher '67 miscarriage. It's a citadel all right. Its passwords areovaries and afterbirths, clamps and catheters.Its theme is masochism, its motto:Women suffer so much for men. Its ritualgarb is the flossy nightie, usually the colorof cheap candy, always bought--in atonement,presumably--by the husband. I hold no special brief for men. But Ifeel sorry for them here. They walk warily through the citadel.Male doctors leave the wards quickly, oftenwith their hands behind their backs as if [p. 10] | [Page Image] A blond radiotherapist comes with alittle machine to give treatment to thegrandmother. After he has left they discusshis physique in minute detail. I go to sleepand dream they are eating him. At visiting hour you really see thecitadel for what it is. My bed faces downtowards the glass doors at the end of thecorridor. The husbands gather there, theirexpressions growing warier each minute,while on this side the walking patientsslipslop back to their rooms and arrangethemselves on the high white altars of theirbeds to receive homage. When they let them in, the husbandsknow just how it is. They are nervous allthe time they are here, continually doingclumsy things like dropping flowers andbumping drip-feeds. When the bell rings forthe end of visiting hour, they leave quicklyand nervously, like the doctors. They are hardly out of sight before thewalking patients are slip slopping down fromtheir altars to compare gifts. Then thenurses start rattling bedpans and everyonesettles back with smug sighs to the eveningritual of dressings and catheters and laxativesand needles. "He is a good man," the little Armeniansays, holding up some frilly magenta horror."But it's sure nice just to be able to turnover and go to sleep without"--she winks--"a lot of nonsense." And I turn over too but for a long timebefore sleep I lie wondering if this really hasto be the ultimate in human relationships--this smug jungle of tubes and catheters andovaries and clamps on the one side, with theother a vanquished army allowed in oncedaily to renegotiate its treaties with flowersand cheap nighties. This is what the citadel does to one'sthinking. All of which--as I warned--is a greatdeal about the women's wing but nothingabout the girl in 42. I am curious, of course, but I don'texpect to do anything about it. However, intime I get to be a walking patient too andthis day, passing 42 on my way back fromtherapy, I glance in and see she has droppeda magazine on the floor. So I go in and pick it up. Right then I decide the rumor startedfrom fear. Because she is that most fearfulthing, different. The other patients arepre-eminently physical creatures. Theymake one think of Hamlet's too, too solidflesh, even when the flesh is yellow withsickness. But the girl in 42 is different. She is alittle flame, thinly clad in a pale envelope offlesh which is almost invisible against thepale sheets. Her hair is boy-short and sopale as to be colorless. The only dark thingabout her is her great midnight-blue eyes. If indeed she wants to be a man, shewants it for no inconsequential reason.Candy-colored nighties and the consensusof the walking patients would cut no icewith this passionate flame. She watches me, saying nothing. I amabout to leave, but the magazine catchesmy eye. There is a reproduction of a painting--agreat, slabby, geometrical vista of a wideland under a wide sky, powerful as acathedral nave, with the gothic arc of arainbow uniting the two. "O", I say as involuntary as breathing,"it's beautiful!" Then she smiles. She begins to turn the pages. There areothers, all of a wide land and a wide sky,with a sense of reverence deep in them. "They are by Pierneef, a South Africanpainter." Her voice is thin and high. Herturning hands are almost transparent. "He sees the--the bones of a land," Isay. "Like the Canadian Group of Seven." "O yes"--she is excited--"you areright! Pierneef and Lawren Harris wouldhave loved each other, wouldn't they!" And I am filled with happiness becausehere, in the women's wing, she has said:Love, and it has nothing to do with tubesand catheters and candy-colored nightgowns. We talk for--I don't know, perhaps tenminutes, perhaps an hour. I do not knowwhat we talk about, but I know it is not thelabyrinthine things. When I go back to my room the fathysterectomy is visiting the little Armenian.She says, "Did she tell you what they weregoing to do to her?" "No," I say shortly. "All I know is she isvery sick." "O sure," says the little Armenian."Anyone who wants to get their sexchanged has to be sick." I lose a small shred of temper. "Theother day you said men have all the fun. Sowouldn't you rather be a man?" [p. 11] | [Page Image] The fat hysterectomy stares. "One bearsone's cross," she says heavily and goes offto talk about her hormones to the grandmother. I return, of course, to 42. There is nomagazine to be picked up but I go anywaybecause it is the only place in all of thecitadel to go and be not just a woman but ahuman being. I think she is pleased to see me. We talkabout art and other things but the blue ofher eyes is smudged over into the hollowsaround them and I must not stay too long. As I begin to leave, she says, "What dothey say about me?" I hesitate. "What do you mean?" "The other patients all peer in at me asthey go past. What is it that frightens themand not you?" "O," I say, "I am no hero." "What do they say?" she persists. The flame, burning strongly, demandshonesty. "That you are in here to have yoursex changed." She smiles. Perhaps she laughs, but I donot think her body is strong enough tolaugh. "They are," she says, "partly right.Perhaps twenty-five percent. One mustallow them that." I say nothing because I do not reallywant to know. It is nothing and at the sametime everything to me. "Please," she says. "The soul lies muchdeeper than that, you know." And of course when I go back to myroom I lose my temper with the fathysterectomy. "Are they," she says, "going to give hera--well, you know, a man'syou-know-what?" "What makes you," I say, "think theyare going to give her anything? Is it alwayshandouts?" She is very overweight round the eyes.They are like little currants in an uncookedbun. "I just asked," she says. "After all,what else has a man got?" "Goddammit," I explode. "We talkedabout art." The currants roll. "Not much use toanybody, is it?" she says. "If you aren't talking about art," I snap,"then shut up about your hormones too.You can't have it both ways." The fat hysterectomy leaves rapidly andthe little Armenian slipslops after her, so Ihave a chance to read. The next day the flame of the girl in 42is burning brightly, even mischievously. Shesays, "Why are you different from theothers?" "O," I say, "I have no beachball ovaries,no tangled tubes. No man even." "Do you mind?" "I am not even sure I want a man." "Maybe they don't either. It is like anose, you know? No one really wants tohave a nose. Of course it is useful to blowand to keep one's glasses up. But the onlyreal appeal of a nose is that everyone elsehas one." "You know," I say, "none of them saythey love their husbands. They say: He is abig man, or an honest man, or a lazy man.But never: I love him. Am I being stupid?" (There seems no strangeness in talkingthis way. Perhaps the women's wing has gotto us too; according to the little Armenian,the miscarriage in 37 has been spreading herlegs and inviting all the walking patients tocount her stitches.) The girl in 42 looks up at me in theblueness of her flame. She is very ill. Shesays, "Love is a gift. Will you hold myhand?" I stretch out my hand but she does nottake it straight away. She looks at her own.It is like the pale wing of a pale, delicatebird. "I would like," she says, "to give youmany things. In talk, for instance. But I ama little tired. So I will hold your hand andsay nothing with words and everything withmy hand. And if you listen hard you willhear me. Do I embarrass you?" I shake my head. "Good. Now close your eyes." No, she does not embarrass me, least ofall by her touch. For one thing it is so lightI hardly feel it. For another, I feel it sodeeply that there is no room anywhere inme for embarrassment. After what may be a long time, I openmy eyes and her two hands are folded. Sheis smiling gently. I say, a little shakily, "You talk well." "You listen well. And no, you are notstupid." I am at the door when she says, "Willyou come back? Even though I played atrick with you?" "A trick?" She smiles again. "You are a very goodlistener. I never touched your hand." Of course I will come back. In my room, the blonde from 26 isvisiting the little Armenian. She is not [p. 12] | [Page Image] "See you was visiting 42 again," shesays. The little Armenian giggles. "Maybe,when it is all over, they are planning to bemarried." The armpit brunette says, "Don't mindus, dear," and laughs until she chokes. After she has gone, the little Armeniantries to be friendly. She tells me how it feelsto have a baby begin to come on the backseat of a cab. I do not think I want to have a babybegin to come anyplace. Next morning when I pass 42 she is notthere. A nurse says they have taken herdown to the operating room and she will bethere several hours. In the afternoon, the little Armenian'shusband comes. He brings her a banana-yellowbedjacket. After he has gone, she says,"You think he is bringing too muchthings?" "Too much?" "There is maybe another woman. I donot trust too much gifts, too muchnicenesses." She has made me understand manythings. After supper I walk down past 42. Thereis a strange woman in the bed. She hasseveral chins and an incipient mustache. The fat hysterectomy, slipslopping past,sees me and says, "Died under the an-aesthetic.Best thing, really." Perhaps that is right. She was not for aworld where there can be too much ofgiving. So I know nothing about her--neitherher name, nor what was her sickness, norwhy she died. I only know that she neverheld my hand and that, after all, love ismuch more--and much less--than alabyrinthine horror. Tomorrow they are sending me homeand that is the best thing too. The citadel isno place for either of us. On the way back to my room I listen tomy feet and find I am slipslopping. I try topick them up and I try not to cry. (Jocelyn Hayward, a frequent contributorto THE LADDER, is aprofessional writer, humorist, andeditor. We are happy to present hereher more serious fiction.) [p. 13] | [Page Image] USES OF SEXUAL GUILT by James Colton "Commonplace sophistication holdsthat generations of revolt are mostlysymptoms of social failure," writes KingsleyWidmer in The Nation (30 Dee. 1968). "Infact, they equally serve as agents of socialchange." All around us evidence of social failureand the resultant revolt meant to bringabout social change are obvious. And whereare the homosexuals? For the most part, inhiding. Because they do not believe society iswrong about them. They believe it is rightabout them--that they are sick, that theyare criminal, that they are mentally disturbed,that they are sordid. The vast bulkof them buy the whole ugly bag of accusations. Unhappily, it looks to this observer as ifthey need it. Of course, to a small number,their status as pariah is vital because it'stheir only distinction. But what about therest? Without question, their guilt has its uses.Who doesn't know the alcoholic whoseunhappiness at his or her homosexualitymakes him a burden to himself and hisfriends? The fact is, he likes to drink, needsto drink, and uses his sexual guilt as anexcuse. Who doesn't know the perennial failure,the man or woman with brains and abilitywho never makes the top in his employmentsphere because he is "afraid" hishomosexuality will be discovered and heneeds the obscurity of a low-paying,drudging job to protect him from exposure?Who doesn't know people of potentialtalent, would-be writers, artists, musicians,dancers, actors, whose neglect of theirabilities they blame on their homosexuality? No, it isn't easy for anyone in ourhighly-structured and artificial society to behimself. The pressures against individualityare staggering and deforming. It is hard toresist them. Anti-sexual pressures are stillhigh--and still doubled for homosexuals.Writes Thomas S. Szasz in his paper "Legaland Moral Aspects of Homosexuality": "In the United States today, whyis homosexuality a problem? Mainlybecause it presents, in sexual form,the classic dilemma of populardemocracy: How much diversityshould society permit? Many people,eminent psychiatrists among them,do not distinguish betweendemocracy and what Tocquevillecalled, 'the tyranny of the majority.'" Numbers of Americans either simply fedup with or actually disadvantaged by thetyranny of the majority are today openlyand fiercely rebelling. But the homosexual--in some ways the most disadvantaged ofall--refuses to rebel. Why should he whenhe can--he thinks--have the best of bothworlds? No skin color or other inescapablefeature marks him off. He can sneak intothe establishment as something other thanhimself. Why fight, he reasons, what you canjoin? But the homosexual cannot join societyas presently constituted, and he knows it.Whatever he pretends, he is an outcast still.If he has a decent job he is never secure init. If he gets equal treatment under the lawit isn't for a homosexual offense. If he wantsa political career, a civil servicecareer, an Armed Forces career, exposure ofhis sexual bent can destroy it. If he wantsto make love he has to break the law in 48of the 50 states. In his book Must You Conform? the lateRobert Lindner called homosexuality "areaction of non-conformity, a rebellion ofthe personality" against "a sex-rejective,sex-repressive society." How does the homosexual handle therole? At a recent symposium on "The AgingHomosexual" sponsored by The TangentGroup in Los Angeles, a young man rejectedthe private, members-only baths thathave become so much a part of the malehomosexual scene in U.S. cities. "They're too safe," he said. "There's norisk involved. There's no chance the guyyou make a pass at will turn out to be a vicesquad officer." Rebellious--right? It shocked a goodmany participants in the symposium. Yetwhat in fact does it show? It shows a bleakdependency on society and its presentattitude for one's kicks. The absence of anythreat of arrest, exposure, humiliation, punishment,results in diminished sexual satisfaction. [p. 14] | [Page Image] This man was rejecting the role of rebel. However honest his homosexuality tostart with, he has forsworn it in favor ofconformity. Yes, conformity. He does notbelieve in his homosexuality, cannot assertit for itself and the happiness it can bringhim. His need to feel guilty and thereforehunted comes above his need for sexualrelease. A hostile society and its dictates aremore vital to him than his own ego and itsneeds. He isn't a rebel; he is a victim. So are most homosexuals. By choice.While they can believe in their own guiltthey can dodge their ethical commitment torebel, to change the society that victimizesthem. Their only rebellious acts remainprivate and horizontal. But rebellion in bed is as silly andwasteful a thing as one can do there. Thefun most homosexuals today have in bed isnot sexual at all but lies in a kind ofchildish nose-thumbing at an Authority thatwould punish them if it knew what theywere up to. Sex has a high value of its own. Mosthomosexuals never find out what it is. Theysubsist on side-effects of sex--a rigged andforever-losing struggle against Mom andDad, Preacher and Cop and, often enoughand even sadder, against God who, if Heexists, surely made them as they are. None of this is to say that once peoplestop reacting by homosexual means againstthe hypocritical morality of our up-tightsociety and come out into the open andband together to change the laws and setMom and Dad, Preacher and Cop straight onthe facts about homosexuality--thathomosexuality will stop. On the contrary, homosexuality mightthen, at long last, really begin--for thosewho actually are homosexuals. Those whohave been faking it, for one guilty reason oranother, will be happy too--happy heterosexuals. ABOUT THE AUTHOR James Colton is a Director of thenewly formed Homosexual InformationCenter in Los Angeles. He is theauthor of Strange Marriage, KnownHomosexual and other novels, TheCorrupter, a short story collection,and such magazine articles as"Science Looks at Homosexuality"and "Suicide and the Homosexual."He is an editor of Tangents magazine.His newest novel is Hang-up,published in July, 1969, and anothernovel, Gard, will appear this fall. Heand his wife, the poet-artist-translatorJane Race, share a house withcats, a Myna bird; a dog, a hoodedrat and a big white rabbit "who runsthe place." Poetry Damned Females Fire torn, cursed by breaths, With painstaking vows shielded beneath our rights Pleading within each kiss we sought to please Thoroughly, surely, we held our sacred vow Carol Cunliffe [p. 15] | [Page Image] ON SCORPIO RISING Those men knew how to do homage, Sheath him in leather, black and burnished. And let him rise in the morning, like spilt seed. Celia Leman Origami No Scarlatti sonata here Michiko Yamaguchi Always In Search Of The Muse Her smile captures me, I watch her as she walks lightly, She never speaks to me Carol Cunliffe TO A YOUNG LOVE Take from this twisted symmetry of limb --Gabrielle l'Autre [p. 16] | [Page Image] SEVEN POEMS BY MARTHA SHELLEY Journey Draw near, my friend, and share with me OFFICE HOURS The papers pass beneath my hands Tapping of a typist's keys And half-built dreams Martha Shelley Distant Valley Her robe fell open at the knee; breathed at me. Something with blood-caked fur She puffs words, "Do you love me?" And here in me the dark monsoon [p. 17] | [Page Image] LETTERS The love I cannot cup in my two hands And now a face I cannot see Some letters, though, she has allowed to me Martha Shelley ONE ROOM Rainwater hands I wish I were Poor bones, Martha Shelley BRUISE You were in my arms, yet unpossessed; Martha Shelley DEATH I would deck her dusky shoulders Martha Shelley [p. 18] | [Page Image] Tygers "There are tigers deep within us," Wind-borne or gliding on a word Michiko Yamaguchi Passages Japan is disappearing by degrees Michiko Yamaguchi Foolish, foolish woman, what have you done? Patricia Michaels CHANGING YOUR ADDRESS? If you are planning to move, pleaselet us know six weeks before changingyour address. Please send your oldaddress and your new address, clearlymarked. You MUST include BOTHyour old and your new zip codes.REMEMBER, third class mail is notforwardable. Send to CIRCULATIONDEPARTMENT, 1005 Market Street,Room 208, San Francisco, California94103. [p. 19] | [Page Image] masquerade by Dorothy Lyle Today, when women can dress as theyplease for the most part, and work at mostkinds of labor, few feel the need to actuallypass as men the entire time. This is a verynew state of affairs, however, and in pasttimes thousands of women made their livesmore palatable by pretending to be male.Good women and criminals, noble womenand outrageous scoundrels, Lesbians andheterosexuals: all have posed as men. Mostof them are unimportant from a historicalstandpoint, though many had wild adventureswhich would have been impossiblehad they chosen to live as women since,traditionally, active lives are denied towomen. Christina de Meyrac, daughter of Baronde Meyrac of Bearn, was raised as a boy(unexplained) by parents who adored her.She was taught to ride and shoot and hunt,and various other sports. In a hunting partyshe accidentally shot and killed her brother.Her father, in a blind rage, set out to killher, and she took refuge with a relative, theAbbe Dizeste. He smuggled her into Spaindisguised as a boy. There she entered auniversity for a while but was wounded bya ruffian in a street fray, in an area of heranatomy that made concealment of her seximpossible. With the help of a Marquesa D'Osseyrashe convinced the surgeon to keep hersecret. She made friends with the LadyAbbess of the Ursilines and became apensioner in the convent of the Ursilines.Ironically, she was allowed to play a malerole in a play performed by the nuns toentertain the Archbishop of Saragossa, andhe recognized her from her student days atthe University and asked the Lady Superiorwhy she allowed a young man in theconvent. Soon after this, Christina wentback to her home in Bearn, her fatherhaving died in the meantime and hermother wishing to see her. In Beam, dressed as a girl, of course, shereceived much male attention. She dislikedthe attention, however, and again with theaid of the Abbe Dizeste, she cut her hair,dressed as a boy, and went to Paris whereshe joined the First Company of the King'sGuard. She went by the name of St. Aubin,and since the King's Guard was a detachmentof musketeers, she has been knownhistorically as "The Woman Musketeer." The King journeyed to Flanders, accompaniedby the Guard. During the trip,while billeted in the house of a wealthyburgher, St. Aubin had to put off the sexualadvances of the wife, the sister, and thedaughter of the burgher. (This would implyeither wild exaggerations in the accounts ofher life or unlimited sex appeal.) Her history after this is confused (andthe sources certainly don't agree), but it isknown that she fought in several battles inthe French Army and that each time sherelinquished male garb she was followedand proposed to by the MarquessD'Osseyra, son of her friend, the Marquessa.Whenever this happened she donned malegarb again and went into the army. At thesiege of Ypres she was wounded seriously(actually the second time she was woundedin her military career) and died of herinjuries. She is described as a great beautyand apparently ran from men by becomingone--her motivations, of course, lie buriedwith her at Bruges, Belgium. To turn from muskets to the open sea,we have the remarkable story of Mary AnneTalbot who went against her will (as a slaveof the Captain) to sea as a cabin boy in1792. She liked the male role, however, andafter many adventures which took her fromher native London to the West Indies andback to London and Flanders, she escapedher cruel master. (He was killed in battle,fortunately.) Dressed as a sailor, she deserted andtried to get back to England. She reachedLuxembourg and shipped aboard a Frenchlugger. This ship sailed in September 1793,and she soon discovered it was a privateer.In the English Channel the ship engaged aBritish vessel and was captured. Mary toldher story (concealing her sex) to theAdmiral himself and was made a powderboy. She served on many ships and tookpart in several battles and was woundedseveral times. She was also taken prisonerby the French another time but againescaped during an exchange of prisoners.She was 01 for a while and left the Navy,but continued to pose as a man. As acivilian she shipped aboard a merchantmanbound for America as a ship's steward. Herpay was fifty pounds for the voyage. (Amuch larger sum than was usual, and noexplanation is offered for this discrepancy [p. 20] | [Page Image] Later in life she admitted to having been"John Taylor" of some Navy fame andworked as an entertainer, still dressed as aman. She was awarded a pension by QueenCharlotte and was helped financially, too,by the Duke and Duchess of York and theDuke of Norfolk. This was undoubtedlydue to her exploits rather than any realfinancial need on her part. She died in1808, at only 30 years of age, havingpacked a lot of living into that short span oftime. Lady Hester Lucy Stanhope never pretendedto be a man, but she took over all ofthe masculine prerogatives, including men'sclothing. She was born in 1776 to adistinguished mother and father. Her fatherwas Charles, Viscount Malion, afterwardsThird Earl of Stanhope. Her uncle wasWilliam Pitt, the Younger, possiblyEngland's greatest prime minister. She becameWilliam's housekeeper--and his mosttrusted confidant, a very unusual role for ayoung woman. When he died in 1806 heleft 1500 pounds a year to her for life.(Some sources say only 1200 pounds; ineither case, a wonderful sum.) Soon after her uncle's death LadyStanhope moved from London to Wales.She is described as being 6' tall, verybeautiful, very intelligent and witty. As anaside we are told that she was headstrong,unmanageable, and very masculine. In1806, at age 30, she fell in love for the first,last and only time in her life with "a youngEnglish girl named Williams." After fouryears, when much "coarse gossip" reachedher ears, Lady Stanhope took Miss Williamsand her personal physician, Charles LewisMeryon, and several servants, and fled tothe East. Her ship, the frigate Jason, wasshipwrecked off Rhodes, but the partysafely reached Palestine and Jerusalem. Sheobtained equipment and the party traveledinto the desert and set up a camp near theruins of Palmyra. Later she moved her camp to the slopesof Mount Lebanon and made friends withthe sheiks of various half-wild tribes (amongother privileges accorded her was visitingthe harems in her male garb, which causedsome hilarious situations). She prevailedupon the Pasha of Acre to Cede her theruined convent and village of Dahar-Joon--built upon a conical mountain. There sherebuilt the entire town and added beautifulgardens and a strong outer wall. The Arabsloved her and her charity to them madethem treat her like a God. She also adoptedmany of their customs, which would haveadded to her popularity. However, when Miss Williams died in1828 (or 1826; the sources vary) LadyStanhope became quite increasingly uncivilized,particularly in her treatment ofservants, punctuating blows with a mace (ametal-studded club) and "lurid language."She loved horses and cats and kept dozensof the latter. When she ran out of money(after helping to conduct a few Arab warsbetween neighboring tribes) she locked herselfup in her paradise on the mountain andfasted to death in June 1839. Catherine Wretford Tozer was born in1834 at Axbridge near Somersetshire,England. She was well-educated for thosetimes, attending a girls' college until age 16,when she married her first cousin, PercivalCoome (or Coombes), some 23 years hersenior. He was apparently very sadistic,mistreating her, and also once was dischargedas a teacher for cruelty to thestudents. To escape him, Catherine ranaway disguised as a man, and called herself"Charley Wilson." She became ahouse-painter and managed, to become amember of the Painter's Union in London.(This was a difficult accomplishment sincemembership in unions was then, as now,restricted, and usually passed on fromfather to son.) Catherine, as Charley Wilson,worked for 13 years for the P & OCompany in London as a painter, andduring at least 7 years of this time she livedwith another woman--the two beingconsidered man and wife, of course. The"marriage" lasted until the wife died in1897. In April of that year Charley movedto a lodging house in Railway Terrace,Kinston-on-the-Thames, and told the landladythat she was a painter and glazier, anda widower who had lost a wife and threechildren. Catherine Coombes is known historicallyas "The Gentleman Painter." The famous author of THE CLOISTERAND THE HEARTH, Charles Reade, wrotea far more elaborate and decidedly fancifulversion of Catherine's life. Admittedly, hisstory is more Lesbian in tone, but also it is [p. 21] | [Page Image] "James Allen" presents a very intriguingmystery. There has never been any proof ofthe original identity of the woman calledJames Allen who successfully lived heradult life as a happily married man. In 1829at St. Thomas's Hospital in London, JamesAllen died, and an inquiry into his deathprovides the only known facts. In 1808James Allen was a groom in the householdof a Mr. Ward of Camberwall Terrace andMary Allen (no maiden name is known) wasa housemaid. James courted and marriedher, and they saved their money and boughta small inn in Baldock, England. They wereliked by people and the inn prospered forsome years. Then a calamity struck: theywere robbed in the night of all of theirmoney and valuables. They sold theirbusiness and returned to London, whereJames found work in a ship-builder's yard.He was considered a sober and industriousworker. He was injured fatally by a failingpiece of timber and died on the way to thehospital. The post-mortem examination determinedhim to be a woman, physicallyperfect in every respect. At the inquest some question was madeconcerning the possibility ofhermaphrodism. This was declared whollywithout foundation by the severalphysicians who had examined the body.The wife, Mary Allen, is described as havingbeen "innocent as a baby and unaware thatthere was anything unusual in her personallife." She must have been!!! Almost everyone has heard of DeborahSampson, the most publicized of the Americanwomen who fought as men during theRevolutionary War--but some of the moreinteresting aspects of her masquerade havebeen overlooked by her more saccharine-tonguedbiographers. Deborah wasborn in December 1760. Her father was asailor, and he died when she was 5 yearsold. There were many children, and themother had to farm them out to relatives.This atmosphere surely had some bearingon Deborah's later history. One evening she "borrowed" a suit ofmen's clothes and spent the. evening drinkingat the local "ordinary" (tavern). Forthis she was put out of the Baptist Church(which comes as no real surprise). She ranaway from home in 1782 and joined thearmy, calling herself Robert Surtlieff. Shesaw little war action (despite somebiographies to the contrary) but did win areputation as "a devil with the ladies."Several hilarious accounts are told of girlsattempting to trap her into marriage. Atone time she must have been very ardentlypursued because she wrote a letter to thegirl to break off the relationship, and endedthe letter with "Your Own Sex." After thewar she married and nothing more of herhistory has been recorded. A very sad story from the days ofinadequate physical knowledge of thehuman body and inadequate knowledgeabout emotional involvements comes downto us from many sources. In 1735 inGrenoble, Anne Grand jean was born. Shewas the daughter of a carpenter, and in hisdesire to have a son he raised her as if shewere a boy. At age 15 a scandal was createdin the town by whisperers who said she hadmore charms for the lasses than the boys. Upset and overwrought, Anne confessedher love for women to the town priest.Being a good and simple man, he assumedan error had been made and told her thatshe was really a boy. She went home andannounced this and soon was known asJean-Baptiste Grandjean. When it was observedthat Jean-Baptiste was as friendlywith girls as Anne had been shy with boys,no one doubted that she was a real boy. Soon after this, she married a FrancoiseLambert and her troubles really started.The couple moved to Lyon and started abusiness. There an "old friend," jealousover losing Jean-Baptiste, made troublebetween them, telling the young wife thevery truthful truth that she was married toa woman. The wife went to another priestand this one decided that indeed she mustbe married to a woman. Poor Jean-Baptistewas exposed in the stocks for a time andthen thrown into prison as a "defiler of thesacrament of marriage." She lodged anappeal and the Paris Medical Facultyexamined her and declared her to be awoman "with a touch of hermaphrodism."(Today this would probably be a normalfemale with a slightly overdevelopedclitoris, a medically common occurrence.)The Parliament of Paris freed her fromprison but annulled her marriage and restoredher name of "Anne." She was thenforbidden to have anything to do with thefemale sex. No further record of her life exists.However, it is unlikely that she followed [p. 22] | [Page Image] Our last subject, Madame JeanneDieulafoy, is perhaps the strangest of all. Toborrow a vulgarism, she was a "mixed-upkid." She dressed always as a man andinsisted that she be treated as a man, butdidn't try to deny that she was a woman.She was married to Marcel Dieulafoy, andthere is a delightful photograph of them,often reproduced, in identical evening dress.Since her hair in the photograph is shorterthan his, they look like brothers. In itself, this behavior would not besufficiently unusual to be of interest. ButMadame Dieulafoy ran a school for theeducation of children based on the principlethat a feminine education of both sexes wasthe only way of teaching young people howto behave properly in society. Consequentlyshe educated both the boys and the girls aslittle girls. The boys played female parts inthe presentations of the comedies of thetimes. We don't know who played the maleparts. Her private life, and her public life, werecircumspect, as far as can be determined. Itwould be interesting, though, to know whyeveryone had to be educated to be properladies while she played the part of a man allof her life. Each of these women used the maledisguise to "pass" into a better world--even as light-skinned blacks have passed aswhite. If they lived today, almost withoutexception they would have had less eventfulbut surely less harrowing lives. It is a matterof some gratitude to realize that women donot have to resort to these disguises today,though looking at the current "liberation"movement, one wonders! BIBLIOGRAPHY Gilbert, Oscar Paul, WOMEN IN MEN'SGUISE, London, The Bodley Head,1932. Stoker, Bram, FAMOUS IMPOSTERS,N.Y., Sturgis and Walton, 1910. Thompson, C.J.S., MYSTERIES OF SEX,London, Hutchinson, n.d. (1938). Vinton, John Adams, THE FEMALEREVIEW, OR LIFE OF DEBORAHSAMPSON, Boston, 1866. Wright, Richardson, FORGOTTENLADIES, Philadelphia, Lippincott,1928. (Editor's Note: Some contemporarysources cite Deborah Sampson asbeing a black woman. We would verymuch appreciate positive clarificationof this question from our readers.This article was originallywritten over five years ago and wasupdated for publication. MissSampson's own memoirs in the JohnAdams Vinton title cited above donot indicate that she was black.) [p. 23] | [Page Image] LESBIANA by Gene Damon Not too many years ago to be rememberedby anyone old enough to be readingthis column, blacks were still considered anegligible civil rights force, and their effortsat self-determination and freedom werequite frankly laughed at. Well, that'schanged, and not just a little. And for thepast four or so years, women have been inthe news ... demanding equal rights. Well,that's not new. Women have been doingthat since the middle 1850's ... we allknow that, and nothing much has happened... so, naturally, nothing much ever will. On the other hand, in 1889 the first bigstep toward Mack equal rights was taken inthis land. So who is to say when the"worm" will turn, or if it may already haveturned? All this is leading up to a plethoraof new books about what the world wouldreally be like if women ran it. Naturally,such books, in this world today, have to becouched in science fiction terms. This isn'teven a new theme in science fiction ...John Wyndham's wonderful CONSIDERHER WAYS, which first came out in 1956,comes easily to mind; and there were anumber of others in the later 1950's on thegeneral theme of worlds of women only.But these were more truly science fiction,less truly sociological commentary.Wyndham's book was based on a bee hivesort of existence within the female community,with workers, drones, and queens. THE LEAGUE OF GREY-EYEDWOMEN, by medical journalist Julius Fast,Philadelphia, Lippincott, 1969, considerswhat happens when an enormous colony ofwomen who share a mutated gene seriesgiving them grey eyes and telepathic abilitiesset about uniting themselves and findinga way to create a male stud for thefurthering of their race. Fanciful as thatsounds, Mr. Fast has done his medicalhomework (I checked), and he is not out ofline on the possibilities. Our interest here,besides the obvious, is that the women areoften Lesbians ... not for any majorreason beyond the lack of ability to communicatewith ordinary men ... who lackthe telepathic sensitivity which allows themfull love. As terrible as the idea might seemto some, a world where war, hate, fightingand poverty would not be possible doesn'tseem too bad. Another, and far less plausible, view isprovided by John Boyd in SEX AND THE THE CHOSEN PLACE, THE TIMELESSPEOPLE, by Paule Marshall, N.Y.,Harcourt, Brace and World, 1969, begs forthat cliché, "a major novel." It really is that... combining all the excellence possiblein a large cast novel without losing the skillsthat most often shine through in the littleones. Miss Marshall is a slow and goodwriter with few real credits but muchcritical acclaim. Her earlier works, SOULCLAP HANDS AND SING, and BROWNGIRL, BROWNSTONES, both were wellreviewed. The former title was a four partcollection of novellas and contained minormale homosexuals. THE CHOSEN PLACE,THE TIMELESS PEOPLE is centered abouta research development project on a barrenWest Indian island. The central figure isMerle, a black woman, illegitimate daughterof an island patriarch. Merle has beeneducated, both in school and in bed, inEngland. Her past includes a destructive andformative Lesbian relationship. She is not a [p. 24] | [Page Image] Reprint news seems to be limited toTHE PURITAN JUNGLE by Sara Harris,out now from Pocket Books. This isn'tmuch, except for its kind comments re thevarious and sundry load carriers in themovement. What fun it is to watch John O'Hara'samazing route. I began many years agochronicling his progress into the field ofhomosexual literature. He began with a fewexcursions into the male aspects of the fieldand soon began including women... inrecent years he has become more and moreconcerned with Lesbianism, reaching a highpoint in AND OTHER STORIES, whichwas his last short story collection (N.Y.,Random, 1968, Bantam, 1970). His latestnovel. LOVEY CHILDS: A PHILADELPHIAN'SSTORY, N.Y., Random, 1969, isquite major. It isn't up to the level of hisbetter Lesbian short stories, but his novelsnever are up to his shorter works, sofaulting him on that ground is not reallyfair. It is a typical O'Hara novel, using hisusual milieu, Philadelphia's upper class, inevery way except for the really heavyemphasis on the Lesbianism. Critics aredamning him again, but that is fashionableand a bit like shooting arrows at the Rockof Gibraltar... foolish. If you like him,this Is your book. Most amazing thing aboutthe man is that he can write about womenand be believed by women reading him...very few male novelists can do this. One inthe eye for the critics. Perfect he isn't; greathe is. Theater nuts are asked please to watchfor any printed presentation of EdwardBond's 1967 play, EARLY MORNING.This is supposed to be about QueenVictoria and Florence Nightingale... asLesbians. Apparently this was first presentedin England sometime in 1967 or1968. It has recently (sometime in 1969)been presented as part of an Edward BondFestival at the Royal Court Theater inLondon. We believe that it was the last playto be banned officially by the LordChamberlain, but we are relying on memoryhere and aren't sure. Certain magazines inthe U.S. and Britain customarily publishfull texts of plays. If anyone finds this one,please send a copy or at least the reference,attention Gene Damon. Simon Cooper's THE RAG DOLLS isout from (Signet, 1970... read and forgettype entertainment... minor interest. On the other hand, May Sarton's wonderfulTHE FUR PERSON is out in paperbackfrom Signet, 1970 (we feel this isprobably its first paperback incarnation). Itis about the finest cat book (fiction) everwritten, and it tells about a cat about town,Tom Jones, and the two women he adopts(they think they adopt him), and how hebecomes "with a little help from hisfriends" a fur person. Reviewer in PUBLISHER'SWEEKLY commented that sheplanned to give a number of, copies away tohuman-type fur people... and that willbe 60 cents well spent and well received ineach case. Bantam Books has a paperback editionof THE MAGIC GARDEN OF STANLEYSWEETHEART out, 1970. Definitelyworth paperback price but primarily forthose interested in his potential talent.Lesbian material in it is silly. REMEMBER If you cannot be present for the Convention, make sure someone who isattending can voice your vote via proxy. If you or a friend cannot attend,mail your proxy to: Convention Proxies [p. 25] | [Page Image] Personal File THE TRANSSEXUAL EXPERIENCE by Karl Ericsen I am a transsexual--a person who haschanged physical sex (female to male). Ihave become increasingly disturbed by thewall being erected between transsexuals andlesbians. It seems to be the result of toomuch misinformation floating about, addedto the tendency on most peoples' part toequate the two groups and therefore notunderstand the measures each takes insolving its particular problem, e.g., lesbians(and most heterosexuals) can't understandwhy a transsexual wants to be a man andthink they are bowing to society in seekinga change. It is my hope that through thispaper, a few more minds (and hearts) willopen up and we can all progress. The main thing to remember is that atranssexual is always aware of living a duallife, i.e., having the inner drives and desiresof a male and the physique (or reasonablefacsimile) of a female. Sure, I am well awarethat many females "want to be a boy" atleast during childhood. I am also aware thatmany think it more advantageous to be amale. But the transsexual does not look atit that way--something inside lets himknow from the onset of conscious thinkingthat he is a male in the, "wrong suit ofclothes". In every aspect of his life he ismale except physically. He prefers andseeks male company and feels out of placewith groups of females, is interested in malevocations and avocations and falls in lovewith females (usually heterosexual). Whilethese may fit a masculine lesbian, there isone difference--the lesbian always knowshe is a female. A transsexual is constantlyat war unless a sex change can be obtained. That is a simple enough definition--thedifficulty lies in pinpointing the cause(s).This is where the two factions clash and thename calling begins. I believe the "war" is auseless preoccupation because the criteriaused to back up statements (biological,psychological and sociological) have notbeen scientifically substantiated and, therefore,facts become theories. I am not usingthis as a defense--only trying to get peopleto close their mouths and accept each other--maybe tomorrow we will have some realanswers. Great leaps are being made inmany related fields--genetics, behaviorconditioning, endocrinology, sexual responseresearch and so on. Let me attempt to open a crack to the"inner door" and let you take a look atsome of the obstacles a transsexual faces inmaking the sex change. Before we go intodetail on those, I believe we should clear upsome of the scandal that has come downupon the heads of the doctors who areworking in this field. Of course, there arequacks--as in every field of medicine--and the public is partly at fault in this casebecause it effectively restricts ethicaldoctors from entering this field. Our lawsare so shrouded in puritanical hogwash thata doctor risks not only his reputation, butalso his practice. However, I must say thatthe doctors I have met have been excellent.They made every effort to make a thoroughand objective evaluation of me beforerecommending treatment. Transsexualshave their share of borderline cases (thoseare patients who might change their mindsor who are not quite sure) and more thantheir just share of emotional instability (thetranssexual often lives many extremelylonely and hopeless years in a world justnot made for him). Most surgeons whoperform the operations will not even interviewa patient until he has been screened bya psychiatrist and an endocrinologist andenough time has elapsed to give the patienta chance to live and work in the new sex. The transsexual's first obstacle is to finda doctor (or person) knowledgeable enoughto know that work is being done in thisfield. This may seem minor to a well readcity dweller but it is a real mountain tosome poor kid in Wheatville, Kansas. Oncethe transsexual has been put in touch withan endocrinologist in the field, the problemis temporarily taken out of his hands and heis put through every imaginable test. Somehospitals (Johns Hopkins, University ofMichigan and U.C.L.A.) have been usingthis information and transsexual subjectsfor research work. The first test includes a very detailedpersonal history--family, medical, sexualand social, and a thorough physical examination.Besides being looked at and intofrom all possible angles, measurements are [p. 26] | [Page Image] Next, the transsexual is sent to anendocrinal laboratory with a twenty-fourhour urine collection. Tests are made todetermine the level of the male hormones.A blood test is also taken and severalevaluations made. The female averages from8 to 14; the transsexual averages from 12 to30. Lastly, the transsexual is given a batteryof psychological tests and referred to apsychiatrist. After all of this information has beencollected and studied, the patient is againinterviewed by the endocrinologist. At thistime the findings and future are discussed.A very frank discussion takes place and allquestions are answered. The transsexual istold everything that is known in the fieldand what procedures will take place. If thedoctor considers him a likely (and qualified)candidate for surgical procedure, he isinvited to join a discussion group. In thisgroup are other transsexuals (in variousstages of change and dress), transsexual'smates, doctors and lawyers, and everyaspect of the transsexual's past, present andfuture are discussed. The transsexual is then started on aseries of male hormone injections--thesecause menses to cease, voice to deepen,body and facial hair to grow, skin tocoarsen, and muscles to increase strength.The transsexual is advised to begin living andworking as a male. All this is to give thetranssexual a chance to sample life as aphysical male and to see if it is really rightfor him. If he decides that it is not, theinjections are stopped and he gains all of hisfemale-ness back except his voice (once thevocal chords are stretched, they do notshrink). After a period of adjustment, an interviewwith a plastic surgeon is made. If thesurgeon agrees, a double breast amputationis performed. This is a rather simple surgicalprocedure leaving two almost invisible scarson the chest. Hospital stay is two to fourdays; recuperation, one week. The second surgery is a hysterectomy.This is a very traumatic experience to mostfemales because it completely takes awayany chance to procreate. It is, therefore,given serious consideration by the doctorsand patient. A true transsexual could onlycome away elated and with no regrets. The third operation has not been perfectedto any degree. This is the constructionof a penis. It has been tried onseveral transsexuals without much favorableresult. It would include enclosing a sectionof rib cartilage in a skin graft and runningthe urethra through lit. Most transsexualsare not willing to go through the pain andexpense of this operation until it has beenperfected. The doctors and transsexuals arehoping for this or a transplant to becomefeasible. The social obstacles the transsexualmeets are varied. Some families have completelyunderstood and supported--othershave disowned their transsexual member.Friends are sometimes slow in acceptance ifthe transsexual has kept that part of himselfaway from them. Some friends (usuallyfriends of the family and relatives) areshocked--some think it is a change for thebetter and necessary. Strangers who do notknow of the change never bat an eye (if thechange is successful). A sex life for the transsexual is difficultat best. Before the change he has a problemrelating to women because they tend to seehim as a masculine female. In sexual intercoursehe is always the aggressor and cannever look at himself as any part female.This presents tremendous problems. Heterosexualwomen would shy away from amasculine female; lesbians would be attractedto his female side (every human possessesboth) but be appalled by hismaleness. Another problem is his body--itis odious to him before the change and hedoesn't want his mate to view it any morethan he wants to--this takes much of theenjoyment out of sex. Because of theseoverwhelming odds most transsexuals haveeither abstained completely or they havehad many stormy affairs which have beenunsuccessful. After the change the transsexual usuallyhas a lot less difficulty in finding a mate.Most marry legally--once the transsexualhas been changed, he can accept his bodyand most of the obstacles are removed andlove removes the rest. A very few transsexuals have a matebefore the change who remains with themafterwards. Others try but fail, for after thechange the transsexual is not the samephysical person and many mates cannotaccept it. [p. 27] | [Page Image] The most difficult obstacle is the paperworld. The main object is to get the birthcertificate changed. Each state handles itdifferently. Some have sealed the old andissued a new. Some have issued amendmentsto be attached. Others have refusedto deal with the problem. In some states thecourts have forced the administrativebranch to side with the transsexual--inother states the courts have made it moredifficult. Sometimes it is a simple matter ofwriting a letter and sending the doctor'saffidavit--other times it can be a costlyand time consuming matter. Once the birthcertificate has been changed, other paperscan be changed and life can go on. If itcannot be changed, then other means mustbe found. Sometimes a church will issue anew baptismal certificate. In extreme cases,forged papers are a last resort. Adjustment after the change can betrying but the problems seem minimal andlaughable after his previous life. He musttake steps to guard his family and self fromsensationalized publicity--this is hard toinsure unless he wants to change his completelife. Often he must accept a changein his vocation--usually into a much lowereconomy (I know of cases where years ofeducation and hard work had to be givenup). If he has not been used to the malerole before the change, a whole new set ofmannerisms, dress and habits must beadopted. The transsexual realizes that many timesin his life he will be criticized for what hehas done. But these storms he can easilyweather because they are small compared tohis life before and he knows that he wouldmake the same decision one hundred timesmore, because for the transsexual it is theonly acceptable and available answer. Before the Gap becomes a Chism by Fen Gregory A few years ago the term "straightLesbian" would have been self-contradictory.No so today! The generationgap (or the establishment barricade, assome prefer) has struck the homophileworld. Two young women, for example, wererecently refused service at a gay bar-restaurantin Oakland, California. Why? Becausethey looked more like hippies thanLesbians. Their "kind," they were told, werenot welcome. At a joint DOB-Women's Liberationmeeting in the Bay Area the discussionended up in a debate about marriage (heterosexualor homosexual) as an institution.Afterwards one of the young Lesbians remarkedshe felt she had more in commonwith the "straight" people at the meetingthan she had with many of the Lesbians sheknew. And the San Francisco DOB Chapterdiscussion group found its younger membersprotesting the criticism of others' dressand speech habits. It shouldn't matter, theyargued, what kind of clothes people wear orwhether or not their language is seasonedwith four-letter words. Before the gap becomes a chism or thebarricade a brick wall, we might wellconsider why this rupture between thegenerations is such a threat to the homophilemovement. For years the battle for acceptance hasbeen fought along a particular line; onecomparable to that which, until recently,the Negro followed. In fact, homosexualsand Lesbians were spoken of as a minoritywhose problems of discrimination were akinto those of religious and racial minorities. More important, the argument for theiracceptance into the larger society paralleledthe arguments against racial and religiousdiscrimination: They may be A (insert any minority),but they are just as B (nice,moral, devout, etc.) as you and I.Therefore it is unfair to discriminateagainst them because of "A". The strength of the argument increases if"A" is inborn, or at least, involuntary. Itsvalidity, however, depends on "B". If itisn't true, the argument collapses. Utilizing this approach with its emphasison sameness creates a vested interest inmoral and social conformity. The result inmany cases is the "straight" Lesbian andhomosexual, persons who have becomerigid advocates of the social and moralstatus quo. Now! Enter the young; the new morality;the belief that the individual has the [p. 28] | [Page Image] Fortified with this idea, increasing numbersof young homosexuals and Lesbiansperceive their sexuality in the same manneras other social differences; placing sexpractices (not just homosexuality) on thesame level as variations in dress or life-stylehabits. And individual differences, accordingto the new morality, are not legitimatereasons for discrimination. It is this change in premise that threatensto split the homophile movement, forits advocates have a vested interest innon-conformity rather than conformity.One's right to be different, indeed, restswith that of every other individual's. Also it involves a new strategy. Peopleseek acceptance, but they DEMAND theirrights. Openly. And LOUDLY. Sometimes,even, DEFIANTLY. The question as to whether or not a splitin the homophile world is inevitable stillremains open. However, the possibility ofthe older, conformity oriented homophilecommunity becoming part of the rejected"establishment" does exist. And it is talked about. Among theyoung. BACK ISSUES OF Prior to October/November 1968, THELADDER was issued monthly for the mostpart; we now issue six magazines a year.THE LADDER year begins with theOctober/November issue each year. Where available, copies of each issue inVolumes 13 and 14 (Oct/Nov. 1968through Feb./Mar. 1970) cost $1.25. Individualissues before that time are $1.00per magazine. EVERY MAGAZINE IS NEW UNTIL ECCLESIASTES BE DAMNED By Patricia Michaels It was a simple misunderstanding, ofcourse. You simply read my lack of colorsto be an admission while it was actually arefusal. I do not traffic in the coin of therealm... I live in my own world and thereis no room for another. I came to dinnerand went home scarlet, confused but unoffended.And how I thought about it, thatsupposedly unintellectual decision! Ithought instead of eating, instead of sleeping,and when I could think no more, Idrank to maintain an aesthetic distance frommyself. Hollows came back beneath mycheekbones and my eyes, already deep set,no longer peered out at the world butburned in hot, honey-colored confusion. Ihave yellow eyes like a cat, and catlike, Ihave always walked alone, more alone thanever because I had just severed the one tiethat had bound me to anyone. I could notgive myself, and then you asked me to takeyou, casually, elegantly, gently. Oh, you are gentle, and I am not. I havefought, scarring my knuckles and scarringmy mind, rebelling against a world thatwould take my mind and run it through thestamp mill of conformity, building my ownprivate world of books and dreams, developingthe mind of a philosopher and theheart of a poet but the emotional courageof a hedgehog. To be handed something asfragile as your heart and as soft as yourbody... I was suddenly all sharp cornersand clumsy fingers. I ran as I alone seemedto run, back to the sterile, mathematicalprecision of machinery, power that I couldcontrol and bend to my will. I bought amachine to tame, this time a motorcyclebecause I couldn't afford another car, andnow I flee the winds of wrath that are ofmy own making. I thought about it and decided that Ihad nothing that I could lose but a chanceto gain the elusive wholeness that is absentin my life. You had touched a long-hiddenchord in the atonic jangle of my nerves andI had responded, but I needed time to learnthe intricate fretwork of so complex amelody, and with all you offered me, theone thing you could not give me was time.Your needs were immediate, and my decisioncame too late. So I smiled, as I amsmiling now, and asked you to be happy sothat I would not be sad, knowing that myinability to give had destroyed your opportunityto love. [p. 29] | [Page Image] Lesbian Literature in 1969 For the first time in years, the report isbeing abbreviated in the interests of spaceand time. All of the titles covered here have beenreviewed in the last year in the Lesbianacolumn. Statistically, and in every other way,this was an excellent year. As has been donefor several years, we do not even includethe several hundred paperback originals thatfall into the category of hard-core pornography.These are usually more notablefor their impossible writing than their eroticcontent. Forty-three of 1969's 66 recordedtitles were hardback books. Most of theseare well worth having, and there were anumber of titles that cannot be fairlyincluded in the statistics but that deservemention again. Only titles discovered betweenNovember 15, 1968 and December15, 1969, are included, which means thatsome of the titles in this issue's Lesbianacolumn are included in this review andsome are not, but we have to have anarbitrary cut-off time. Anything missed oneyear is picked up the next. Too many of the major titles were toogood to select a best or even a small numberof better books. From the standpoint ofliterature, possibly Sybille Bedford's ACOMPASS ERROR; London, Collins, 1968,N.Y., Knopf, 1968, leads the rest; butpersonal taste will find most readers choosingIsabel Miller's A PLACE FOR US, N.Y.,Bleecker Street Press, 1969. Both are majormust novels. John O'Hara's late 1968 shortstory collection, AND OTHER STORIES,Random, 1968, Bantam, 1970, containsthree pertinent stories, "The Broken Giraffe","We'll Have Fun", and the shortnovel, A FEW TRIPS AND SOMEPOETRY. His 1969 novel, LOVEYCHILDS, also Random House, should beread by anyone remotely interested in theliterature in this field. Following theseclosely would be THE SWEET DEATH OFCANDOR by Hannah Lees, N.Y., Harcourt,Brace and World, 1969; Olivia Manning'sTHE CAMPERLEA GIRLS, N.Y.,Coward-McCann, 1969 (in England, THEPLAY ROOM, London, Heinemann, 1969);CATCHING SARADOVE by Bertha Harris,N.Y., Harcourt, Brace and World, 1969; andNorman Bogner's THE MADONNA COMPLEX,N.Y., Coward-McCann, 1968, Dell,1969. On the serious side, and less apt toplease the general reader, are CONSIDERSAPPHO BURNING by Nicholas Delbanco,N.Y., Morrow, 1969, and William Bryant'sliterary game, ALMOST, N.Y.,McGraw-Hill, 1969. Both are good books...neither is likely to be popular. There are always a few novels that dealdirectly or indirectly with sadism andmasochism that are accurately or erroneouslyincluded in this field. Renato Ghiotto'sCHECK TO THE QUEEN, N.Y., Putnam,and London, Macdonald, 1969, was widelyand erroneously reviewed as pertinent here...it is not. On the other hand, GeorgeRevelli's very funny COMMANDERAMANDA, N.Y., Grove, 1968, is, andsophisticated readers may enjoy it. History lovers will like THE GODS ARENOT MOCKED by Anna Taylor, N.Y.,Morrow, 1969 (this is very major, incidentally,and well done, so it is recommendedto all). A less successful historicalnovel, THE ROSE AND THE SWORD, bySandra Paretti, N.Y., Coward-McCann,1969, includes a couple of Lesbian nuns inthe cast, one a good kid and one of thoseother kind. There were the usual handful of minortitles... some minor only because theLesbian in the story is dealt with more orless distantly, without the personal aspects,and some minor in terms of pertinent pagesin a lengthy novel... INTERSECTIONSby Graham Ward, London, Hutchinson,1969; FANCY by Robert Krepps, Boston,Little, Brown, 1969; THE BIG STUFFEDHAND OF FRIENDSHIP, London, PeterOwen, 1969; WOUNDS by Maureen Duffy,N.Y., Knopf, 1969 London, Hutchinson,1969; and Shirley Schoonover's fascinatingSAM'S SONG, N.Y., Coward-McCann,1969. We can fairly include here GrahamGreene's autobiographical TRAVELS WITHMY AUNT, London, Bodley Head, 1969. Inevitably several books must havespecial mention. THE DAKOTA PROJECTby Jack Beeching, London, Jonathan Cape,1968, N.Y., Delacorte, 1969, is high gradescience fiction with a very, very majorLesbian subplot and very well drawncharacters. It is highly recommended. Threetitles, all minor, must be mentioned fortheir literary qualities... FAT CITY, by [p. 30] | [Page Image] These five, are varying degrees of competenceposing as trash, or maybe the otherway around: THE RAG DOLLS by SimonCooper, N.Y., World New American Library,1969, Signet, 1970; THE MALEDICTION,by Julian Claman, N.Y., Dutton,1969, Bantam, 1970; SEX CAGE byLlonka, N.Y., Vantage, 1969; THEBEAUTY TRAP, Jeanne Rejaunier, N.Y.,Trident, 1969, Pocket Books, 1970; andPROVIDENCE ISLAND by Calder Willingham,N.Y., Vanguard, 1969, Dell, 1970.(Note, please, that only the vanity publishedSEX CAGE has so far not appearedin paperback... which proves somethingabout the nature of trash and readinghabits. Many of the better books never getinto paperback, which is sad in view of thecost of books today.) The low point in recent years wasreached by Lord Snow in his THE SLEEPOF REASON, N.Y., Scriber, 1969(London, Macmillan, 1968). This is possiblythe most unwarranted bit of viciousnesswe've suffered in recent years. Despiteextensive publicity, by the way, this bookdid not sell well. Humorous fiction, or attempts at it, areeither very popular or publishers wish thisto be so. Six titles fell in this area, somegood, some very bad. The best by far wasthe publishing of Lytton Strachey'sERMYNTRUDE AND ESMERALDA,N.Y., Stein and Day, 1969. This was followedclosely by Robin Cook's PRIVATEPARTS IN PUBLIC PLACES, N.Y.,Atheneum, 1969; THE MAGIC GARDENOF STANLEY SWEETHEART, RobertWestbrook, N.Y., Crown, 1969, Bantam,1970; and MRS. MOUNT ASCENDANT byJohn Goldsmith, London, Hogarth, 1968.Less successful was Raymond Spence's fairlyfunny NOTHING BLACK BUT ACADILLAC, N.Y., Putnam, 1969, Berkeley,1969... and dreadful was GUMDROP,GUMDROP, LET DOWN YOUR HAIR byJeannie Sakol, N.Y., Prentice-Hall, 1969. Another novel that needs to be discussedby itself is the very disappointingLUCY by Helen Essary Ansell, N.Y., Harper& Row, 1969. Miss Ansell's novel is poorbut she has already shown remarkabletalent in the short story field and it ishoped she will go on writing. This is, by theway, quite major. Three short stories: Lin Yatta's wonderful"Fitting" in EVERGREEN REVIEW,May 1969; George P. Elliott's minor andnot very good "Nikki: For a Couple ofMonths" in ESQUIRE, June 1969; andPamela Frankau's COLONEL BLESSINGTON,a short novel first run in the August,1969, COSMOPOLITAN, and then publishedin book form by Delacorte in 1969(this last novel is variant rather thanLesbian). Poetry lovers are advised to watch for allof the work of new and good young poetLynn Strongin (see "Lesbiana", October/November,1969). The only otherpoetry to report is the glorious BeramSaklatvala restoration of Sappho's work inSAPPHO OF LESBOS, London, CharlesSkilton, 1968, and the book length narrativepoem, CASSANDRA, by -WilliamBentley Edmonds, London, and N.Y.,Arcadian, 1969. Once again I close with a plea for help.There is no way any one person can find allof the titles. This is especially true ofmagazine fiction ranging from popularwomen's magazines to the most esotericquarterlies and so-called little magazines. Itis also true of poetry, which is undergoing avery welcome renaissance just now. Please,those of you who read poetry as a matter ofpersonal enjoyment, let me know about anypertinent writers... if they seem suspicious,let me hear about those too, sothey can be checked and then shared withothers. Lastly, the major titles are obviouslygoing to be found... but those "big"books with cinemascope casts often containsubstantial chunks of interesting, valid andpertinent material. Some years ago reviewersdeliberately neglected to mentionsuch material for fear of being offensive.Now, many reviewers are so emancipatedthey no longer "bother" to mention suchordinary material as male homosexuals orLesbians. So help, please, where you can. [p. 31] | [Page Image] Cross Currents. HONG KONG, November 29, 1969.Margaret Tu Chuan, local actress of note,was found dead in the embrace of heralso-dead lover, Ho Miao-chu. Tu Chuan,30, and Ho Miao-chu, 26, left notes askingthat they be buried together (this was notdone). Tu Chuan, separated from a husband,left a son. Ho Miao-chu, an interiordecorator, had never married. In a televisioninterview following the deaths, Tu Chuan'smother denied that her daughter was aLesbian!! (This particular story must havebeen published all over the world, for it didreach me from about 10 different places...now if you all will just tell me what'sgoing on in the good old U.S.A....) ANUBIS, A LOS ANGELES-centeredsocial club for both male homosexuals andLesbians, was illicitly raided on December19, 1969. It has been learned since thattime that two female undercover agents hadinfiltrated the organization: one, LouiseSulzner, an investigator for the Departmentof Alcoholic Beverage Control; the other,Laura Jamosky, is a deputy sheriff. Noarrests were made, but two citations wereissued, one for selling alcoholic beverageswithout a license, and the other for allowingdancing without a license. This outragetook place in the private clubhouse of theorganization. People present were harassed,and the police were said to be angry not tofind something that would warrant anyarrests being made. We wonder how manyinnocent people are murdered in this areaeach year while the law enforcement agenciesconcentrate on "desperate homosexualcriminals," minding their own business onprivate property. SEX IS A PRIVATE AFFAIR: Austin,Texas, AP. December 20, 1969. A. Dallascouple, Mike and Jan Gibson, filed onDecember 1, 1969 to show that Texas' lawson sodomy are illegal. Since they are aheterosexual married couple, it is quiteclear that Assistant Attorney GeneralCharles Perrott's public statement, "Wehave a problem if a married couple challengesthis statute," is about to come truedeep in the heart of Texas. SEX IN THE DAYTIME... SANFRANCISCO EXAMINER AND CHRONICLE,December 21, 1969. Dwight Newton,writing about soap operas, comments, "Thesex in soap operas is almost totally heterosexual.Homosexuality is practically tabooalong with physical violence, nudity andracial integration. Among the 15 soapoperas monitored this week there were buttwo blacks--one black male detective...and one black female secretary... Generallyspeaking, the television soap opera isa lily-white world. Correction: a lily-whiteheterosexual world." FREE PARTICLE: NEW MAGAZINEARRIVING. December 30, 1969. In aninterview with Dunbar Aitken, chairman ofthe Gay Liberation Front in San Francisco,the San Francisco CHRONICLE announcedthe beginning of a new magazine,FREE PARTICLE, which Mr. Aitkendescribes as a "scientific and literary journalby and for male and female homosexuals."We haven't seen one yet as this is beingwritten; presumably we will and will commentthen. SOCIOLOGICAL APPROACHES TOHOMOSEXUALITY: BERKELEY, January1970. Yes, that is just what it sounds like,the name of a college course--a two-quartercourse--at the University of California,Berkeley. Numbered Sociology 191, thecourse has been approved by the SociologyDepartment of the University for the nexttwo years. It is accredited and to be givenon campus. The instructor is RoxannaSweet, whose doctorate is in criminology.Dr. Sweet is familiar with the Bay Areahomophile community, and it is felt thatshe will do an outstanding job. Many areaorganizations have made contributions toenable the course to begin (educationalmonies have been frozen in the area by theReagan administration), including DOB,CRH, TAVERN GUILD and SIR. (Othergroups have been contacted and will undoubtedlycontribute as well.) HBBA, San Francisco, January1970. Those initials stand for HOMOPHILEBETTER BUSINESS ASSOCIATION, andthe group concerns itself with informing thehomophile community of unfair businesspractices aimed at them... wonderful...To date, all we have seen is theirintroductory letter and a list called "AlertNotice" covering January-February 1970and citing a number of parties engaged inquestionable enterprises. CALIFORNIA TEACHERS' UNIONADOPTS HOMOSEXUAL RESOLUTION: [p. 32] | [Page Image] January 1970. The California Federation ofTeachers, at their annual meeting in LosAngeles, December 27-29, 1969, adoptedan unprecedented resolution demandingthe establishment of sex education programsand "the abolition of all laws or othergovernmental policy which involvesnon-victim sexual practice." The resolutionwas written and presented by MorganPinney, assistant professor of accounting atSan Francisco State College, and an activemember of the militant COMMITTEE FORHOMOSEXUAL FREEDOM. This federationrepresents thousands of teachers at alllevels of education, and the successfulpassage of this resolution is an enormousbreakthrough for all of us concerned withour civil rights in all areas of privatebehavior. The resolution reads as follows: BECAUSE millions of Americanhomosexuals are oppressed by theAmerican System, Because homosexuals areharassed and intimidated by thepolice, Because the self-hatred caused bythe system's oppression is the mosthideous result thereof, Because their ability to hide thesexual nature (unlike blacks, whoserace is obvious) keeps homosexualsimmobilized, Because the government'santi-homosexual policies set the toneof homosexual oppression as nation-al policy, THE CALIFORNIA FEDERATIONOF TEACHERS DEMANDS: (1) The abolition of all laws orother governmental policy which involvesnon-victim sexual practice. (2) A vigorous life and sex educationprogram at all school levelswhich explains the various Americanlife-styles. WHAT GROUP DID YOU SAY? Longbefore you read this there will undoubtedlybe another 10 new groups with very similarnames in New York City, San Francisco andLos Angeles. There are almost as manygroups for them as there are gay people,and the last year has created a number withalmost identical names... all soundingvaguely like GAY LIBERATION and GAYWOMEN'S LIBERATION. Eventually, sincethey are all radical groups, they will beginto be referred to collectively as GAYLIBERATION, in much the same way thatWOMEN'S LIBERATION is a catch-all termcovering some 20 different organizations.We try in these pages to keep them allsorted out... but don't be surprised ifyou are confused--so are we. Latestexample is that the GAY ACTIVISTS'ALLIANCE was formed in New York Cityin January 1970. This group represents adissident group from both MATTACHINESOCIETY of NYC and GAY LIBERATIONFRONT. Despite the even more radicalname, this group formed to get away fromthe "do your own thing" philosophy of the"front" group. And on and on... WIN MAGAZINE, January 1970. Thisissue of the radical WIN magazine is devotedto the Women's Liberation Movementand includes a reprint of Martha Shelley'sexcellent essay, "Stepin Fechit Women,"from the first issue of COME OUT. ALLEN GINSBERG on the witnessstand. Chicago, January 1970. In theChicago "7" trial, witness for the defense,Allen Ginsberg, was harassed by the prosecutionin an attempt to impugn his characterby asking him to read one of his poemson a homosexual theme. They may wellhave regretted it, convictions or no, becauseGinsberg's shaming replies have been printedcoast-to-coast. Among other things hesaid: "We have many loves, many of whichare suppressed, many of which are denied....Becoming aware of these loves is theonly way this nation can save itself andbecome a democratic nation." WBAI-FM, New York City, has a regularprogram called, "By and for the HomosexualCommunity," every Thursday at9:00 p.m. FAMILY WEEKLY, January 4, 1970.We don't know what this newspaper-typemagazine is, but suspect it is a local item.This issue of FAMILY WEEKLY has aridiculous and highly insulting article onwomen, called WOMEN WILL CHALLENGE MEN,listing a handful of tokenfemales in top jobs...bleah!!! DEL MARTIN AND PHYLLIS LYON'Swonderful article on the Lesbian, which first appeared in MOTIVE MAGAZINE inthe March/April 1969 issue, was reprintedon January 9, 1970 in the LOS ANGELESFREE PRESS. We believe this "underground"newspaper has very wide circulationat least in major cities, and are pleasedthat the article could, therefore, reach somany. MIDWEST MAGAZINE, CHICAGOSUNDAY SUN-TIMES, January 11, 1970, [p. 33] | [Page Image] SAY IT LOUD--WE ARE GAY ANDWE ARE PROUD; Los Angeles, January 11,1970. More than 250 homosexuals andLesbians, led by Rev. Troy Perry, chairmanof the Committee for Homosexual LawReform and pastor of the MetropolitanCommunity Church, marched down HollywoodBoulevard this rainy Sunday evening,in a peaceful demonstration for civil rights. SYDNEY J. HARRIS, syndicatedcolumnist often mentioned in these pages,in his January 13, 1970 column calledJOURNALISM RAZING BARRIERS TOWOMEN, hits hard at his own craft (themales in it) for excluding women. Heconcludes with, "THE MOST ENORMOUSPREJUDICE IN THE WORLD IS THISANIMUS AGAINST 50 PERCENT OF THEHUMAN RACE." Thank you again, Mr.Harris. A PARADE OF GAY PICKETS: SanFrancisco, January 16, 1970. Some 60members of the Gay Liberation Frontpicketed American Broadcasting Company'sstation KGO-TV (and radio), protesting thefiring of KGO-radio's Leo Laurence.Laurence, an ABC network news editor,was fired the day after he took part in aGay protest against the San FranciscoEXAMINER. Only two arrests were reported,and no violence... the pickets carriedthe usual "Gay Love Is Good Love" and"Love Thy Brother" signs... (Lovethrowing that "usual" in there... rememberwhen it wasn't so usual???) UnionLocal 51 of the National Association ofBroadcast Employees has been fighting thefiring for Leo, and he has been receiving hispay check regularly from the station sincethe firing. CONCEPTION, MISSOURI, January 15,1970. KANSAS CITY STAR for this datecarries the story of Daniel Gorham, dismissedfrom the Immaculate ConceptionSeminary at Conception, Missouri for hisletter to the editors of LOOK magazine thatappeared in that magazine's January 13,1970 issue. Mr. Gorham describes himself aspresident of THE VINEYARD, an organizationfounded in 1967 for both heterosexualsand homosexuals who wish to givethemselves to the church. In his letter Mr.Gorham specifies that the church has notturned its back on homosexuals (though hisdismissal would not indicate much else),and further said that homosexuals mightbelong to Vineyard though they were stillactive in homosexual affairs. After theletter appeared, says the STAR, a St.Joseph, Missouri television station askedGorham for an interview, but laterGorham's school made him cancel it. Hewas also forbidden to talk to newsmen, butthat was overlooked, obviously. At the timeof the appearance of this article, the dismissalwas not certain but was dependentupon the wishes of a conservative bishop ofthe church. Ironically, the article makes Itfairly clear that Gorham is, himself, nothomosexual. MORE DANIEL GORHAM: KANSASCITY STAR, January 16 and January 21,1970. Daniel, dismissed from the ImmaculateConception Seminary in Conception,Missouri, has been accepted by the SenruCenacle at Jarrel, Texas, another Catholicseminary. We wish him well. BELATED NEWS: On January 19, 1970we were informed that the long-promisedbook on Women's Liberation, which is tofeature a complete history of DOB, alongwith addresses, etc., is finally scheduledagain for publication. It is now firmly titledTHE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK;editor is Robin Morgan, and publisher isRandom House... time now due: May1970. We also learned that in addition toGene Damon's chapter on DOB, there willbe another chapter on the Lesbian in thebook, authored by our own Martha Shelley.It is noted, also, that the Lesbian is the onlyspecial group to have "double" appearancesin the book. TEXAS LAW OUT: Dallas, January 21,1970. The previously cited attempt to havethe Texas sodomy law thrown out worked.On this date a three-judge United DistrictCourt in Dallas unanimously declared thelaw unconstitutional. SAN DIEGO, LOS ANGELES, DOBAND REV. PERRY. Friday, January 23,1970. Special to THE LADDER. Twelvevisitors from the San Diego DOB chapterattended the meeting of the Los Angeleschapter, and the approximately 40 women-attending heard Rev. Troy Perry speakabout the METROPOLITAN COMMUNITYCHURCH. CLEVELAND, CHICAGO, RITALAPORTE AND ALAN DOUGLAS:Special to THE LADDER: Television andradio audiences across the country were [p. 34] | [Page Image] They took part in a two-hour paneldiscussion on the Alan Douglas Radio Showon January 23rd and taped a half-hourtelevision show. Audience reaction wasfavorable and we have received reports fromall over the western and northern portionsof the U.S. where these shows were carried.The trip to Cleveland, partly financed bythe station, gave Rita a chance to meet withthe newly chartered chapter. Eve Devon,chapter president, reports that the "participantsenjoyed themselves immensely." TheCleveland chapter has been inundated withrequests for information ever since. ON TOCHICAGO: Rita Laporte arrived in Chicagoon Sunday, the 25th of January. SharonJames and Kay Kelly of the Chicago DOBwere on hand to greet her at the airport.Later that evening a meeting of the groupwas held in Rita's honor at the home of amember. Various plans were gone over togive publicity to the group and increase itssize. Aleta Styers, past president of NOW,was the featured speaker at the meeting.Currently serving on NOW's Public RelationsCommittee, Aleta spoke of theLesbian's role in the feminist movementand stressed the point that the goals of theDaughters of Bilitis were not unlike thoseof her organization in many respects. NOW EMPLOYMENT CONFERENCE:CHICAGO, January 24, 1970. Several membersof the Chicago DOB attended thisday-long meeting of NOW in Chicago,which featured prominent women from allover the U.S. speaking on women's problems...except, of course, for theLesbian. Much of the material, however,including the areas dealing with work, wasapplicable to all of us. And the burningbrand that tops them all is that in 1968 themedian income for year-round full-timeMALE workers in the U.S. was $7,814, andfor WOMEN, $4,560. WOMEN'S LIBERATION INCHICAGO: Just prior to the NOW meeting,the CHICAGO TRIBUNE ran a long articleon the Chicago Women's Liberation group... so-so coverage. NO SPACE. We haven't room to reporton all the suits being filed across thecountry on behalf of women who are beingdiscriminated against in job situations. It isenough to note that some 20 such cases areclipped and sent to me each month ...surely an enormous increase and a goodsign. VATICAN CITY, January 26, 1970.The Vatican has refused accreditation to aWest German diplomat, Elisabeth Muller,on the grounds that she is a woman. TheVatican spokesman made it clear that theVatican will only allow men to holdhigh-ranking diplomatic posts to the Holysee. This is a serious outrage, and we hopesomething will be done about it. ORDER DENYING REHEARING:January 27, 1970. With that cold legalterm, the fight for the listing in the yellowpages... reported here a number of timesduring the past year... was denied. OnApril 25, 1969, CRH, SIR, TAVERNGUILD and DOB filed suit against thePacific Telephone and Telegraph Companyfor refusing to list all of the organizationsunder "Homophile Organizations" in theyellow pages. As reported last issue, the suitwas found in favor of the defendant, andnow, the rehearing has been denied. BigBrother now decides whether you can findyour own people... as always. BERKELEY TRIBE, January 30, 1970:Gale Whittington reports in this issue theJanuary 18, 1970 harassment of ArthurOrnales, a Mexican-American homosexual.Ornales' apartment was invaded by twomilitary policeman and four city policemenwithout search warrants and without permission.They questioned him about an,AWOL soldier. On learning he knew nothingof the soldier, the policemen beat upOrnales ... shoved him into a bathtub andstruck his face and chest repeatedly. Anaccount of this atrocity did not appear inthe San Francisco establishment press: THECHRONICLE had an article about it but itdid not appear, at the request of the policedepartment, according to the TRIBE. Althoughthere are about 90,000 homosexualsin San Francisco, they are still subject tothe whims of the police, and complaintsfrom citizens are given the cold shoulder bythe "authorities." IN PURSUIT OF THE AMERICANWOMAN: HARPER'S MAGAZINE,February 1970. Edward Grossman'sthus-titled article is a reasonably intelligentlook at women's liberation from a maleviewpoint. While not as good as Richard E.Farson's articles, this is certainlysecond-best, and it covers the subject fromevery possible literary and sociologicalaspect as well... worth reading, if youcan keep your temper during the slips... SACRED HEART COLLEGE, Wichita, [p. 35] | [Page Image] BACK ON THE HOME FRONT, SanFrancisco, February 1970. While Rita hasbeen roaming far from home to speak invarious other areas, the San Francisco chapterhas been speaking locally to various groups.The Council on Religion and theHomosexual lined up women from the SanFrancisco DOB, NOVA and GAYWOMEN'S LIBERATION to speak, andduring January talks were given at SanFrancisco State College, Berkeley HighSchool and Sequoia High School inRedwood City, California. As this is writtenwe have no further information regardingthe group identified to us "as GAYWOMEN'S LIBERATION, and suspect it isonly an auxiliary of one of the male groupsin San Francisco... we are inquiring andwill report if anyone bothers to answer theinquiry. (See "Women's Coalition" report.) RAT, February 6-23, 1970. With thisissue, RAT magazine (it is not a typographicalerror--the magazine is namedRAT) was liberated by women of theWomen's Liberation Movement in NewYork City. The paper's sub-title is "subterraneannews," and it is a politicalhodge-podge... imitative and derivative,or maybe it is just that pseudo-revolutionarycant can be repeated just so many timesbefore its effect wears thin. In any case, thisissue of RAT is about women, and itcontains an article by Robin Morgan--"Goodbye to Ail That"--that would bemust reading if it had come wrapped inalmost any other kind of garbage. KPFA, Berkeley, February 7, 1970.Special to THE LADDER. Roland Younggave the homophile movement another publicboost on his February 7th radio show,on KPFA, Berkeley. A portion of theprogram was devoted to questioning LeoLawrence, Don Burton and Sheila Finney(of the San Francisco DOB chapter) aboutthe increased activity of homophile organizationsin the Bay Area. The participantsfound a friend in the black radio announcer.In addition to extending his personalwell wishes, Mr. Young offered topublicize events of the Daughters of Bilitison his show. FREE, University of Minneapolis'homosexual group, appears to be growingand making substantial strides. Their thirdnewsletter, dated February 10, 1970, indicatesthey are pretty well organized anddoing well. Good for them. DEAR ABBY, February 12, 1970.Abby's column for this date (and closedates in other cities) contains a letter froma mother lamenting her lack of a grandchildbecause her only child is homosexual.Abby's reply is sensible, but she suggeststhat those whose children are dead are theonly ones worse off... which is a change... remember when we were a "fate worsethan death"? WHIFFENPOOF'S VANQUISHED:CHICAGO SUN-TIMES, February 12,1970. The tables down at Mory's, Yale'sall-male refuge, have been attacked by thefemale Yale student body. Members of thelaw association and the women's alliancestaged a successful sit-in on February 5,1970. Results unknown at this time. HOUSTON CHRONICLE: February 15,1970. Unlikely as it might seem, thispaper's Sunday section article on women'sliberation is one of the finest of the shortstudies yet to appear. Arthur Whitman's"Gals Who Picket, Protest and PubliclyBurn their Brassieres" is good, despite theterrible title and the male authorship. Heeven manages to point out that the movementis similar to the black movement andthe homophile movement. MORE ON REVEREND PERRY: NEWYORK TIMES, February 15, 1970, carrieda fine article on Metropolitan CommunityChurch and the work it is doing forhomosexuals and Lesbians in Los Angeles.The resultant publicity is excellent, inducingeven such far-away areas as theDETROIT FREE PRESS columnist ShirleyEder to run a short mention of the churchand its purpose, and San FranciscoCHRONICLE writer John Dart provided agood write-up for the group, too. OPEN AIR PUBLICITY? KQED radio,San Francisco, February 16, 1970. RitaLaporte was interviewed by feminist supportersMr. and Mrs. Baranco at noon onKQED live. The one-hour question-and-answersession was done outdoorsat Zellerbach Square on a cold and windyday. Reports indicate the interview wassuccessful except for the fact that theinterviewee "developed uncontrollableshivering and turned blue." Oh well, proveswe are human. [p. 36] | [Page Image] METROPOLITAN COMMUNITYCHURCH and ANN LANDERS: February16, 1970. Ann's column for this date (andclose dates in other cities) has a letter from aLos Angeles resident who signs himself"Resident of the World's LargestOpen-Air-Lunatic Asylum," all about Rev.Troy Perry and the MCC. Rev. Perry andthe church aren't named, but the poor guyis shook up to think there is a church forhomosexuals. However, even with his animosity,he makes one very telling remark:"When the word gets around, you won't beable to get into the place." Ann's answer isexcellent... IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT.February 17, 1970. Special to THELADDER. Sally Jessy of Station WIOD,Miami (NBC) interviewed Rita Laporte bylong distance telephone at 1:00 A.M. thisdate. The 30-minute interview was live at4:00 A.M. in Miami (audience??). InterviewWas as a result of Rita's letter in PLAYBOYlast summer. PUBLICITY GOES ON AND ON. Thepower of the press, especially for a group assmall and financially restricted as DOB, is ablessing. That long-ago PLAYBOY letterreferred to above also recently (February1970) brought us inquiries from NewZealand women interested in starting achapter of DOB... JILL JOHNSTON, VILLAGE VOICE,and have you read anything like this lately?This woman has a column called DANCEJOURNAL which appears regularly inVILLAGE VOICE, discussing everythingbut the dance... which confuses some ofthe readers not old enough to have heard ofHavelock Ellis. The dance this lady discussesis of vital importance to us all...the life dance. Her February 19, 1970column, WHAT SEX?, is must reading in itsanalysis of sexuality, feminism and revolution.If you are curious and too lazy to buyit, write to me and I'll send you a photocopy. PRAISE WHERE DESERVED:MAIDEN VOYAGE, VOLUME I, NUM-BER 3, February 1970. DOB chapter newslettersmay not, under our bylaws, be sold,and each chapter is required to publish onewhen able to do so, so they survive ondonations from the kind and interested.Boston chapter's newsletter, MAIDENVOYAGE, shows just how much real progresshas been made, in the field of rights forLesbians in the last 14 years. With its 12neat pages of information on many subjects,articles, news of chapter events, programsfor chapter work, it is 10 times the"magazine" our beloved LADDER was inits first year of publication. If you'd like tosee a copy, write to the Boston chapteraddress, elsewhere in these pages, and INCLUDEAT LEAST $1.00 (don't be acharity case). AND WHILE WE ARE IN BOSTON:Special to THE LADDER. The SteveFredericks Talk Show on WMEX devotedan hour to upcoming Massachusetts lawreform bills, February 20, 1970. Panelistson the program included Laura Robin ofBoston DOB, Frank Morgan, president ofHUB (a Boston men's, group) and Bostonlawyers Alan Cook and Peter Connolly. Thethree bills in question cover those itemsbeing currently debated in many states, therestrictive sex laws, which hurt heterosexualand homosexual alike (though seldom, ironically,affect Lesbians). MORE IN BOSTON: On February 23,1970, members of the various male homosexualgroups there testified before theJudiciary Committee of the state legislaturein favor of these bills. DOB's testimony wassubmitted by letter. It seems fairly apparentthat most states will eventually adopt similarlaws. . probably within the next 10-20years. This all means that some 25 yearsfrom now we will be about where ordinaryhomosexuals and Lesbians are today inGreat Britain. . in precisely no different aposition than they were BEFORE theWolfenden Laws were passed, as reported Inthese pages in CROSS, CURRENTSFebruary/March 1970 by Yorke Henderson,writing for the San Francisco CHRONICLE.Legislation is, in this instance, liketaking "one baby step" in "Mother, MayI?" SATURDAY REVIEW: THE NEWFEMINISM, February 21, 1970. In a fairlyinclusive article, Lucy Komisar of NewYork City's NOW covers the general aspectsof the new feminine revolution. Not thebest coverage at all, but in this magazine itwill go where it will do more good thaneven the better coverage seen in some othermagazines. We were left out, naturally, buttimes are changing, as they sing in thetelephone company jingles. YELLOW PAGE FIGHT STILL GOINGON: San Francisco CHRONICLE,February 28, 1970. Attorney David I.Clayton, acting on behalf of DOB, Councilon Religion and the Homosexual, Societyfor Individual Rights (SIR) and Tavern [p. 37] | [Page Image] ATLANTIC MAGAZINE, March 1970.The entire issue is devoted to "Woman'sPlace" and the general tone of the wholeissue is sick. One article, "What Are YouSupposed to Do If You Like Children," bynovelist Anne Bernays, is unbelievablyvicious. Why she hates women so violentlymight make interesting clinical reading, butit does not belong in even a lukewarmpicture of the liberation movement. Thetitle is especially irritating when even themost conservative are now pointing out thatwe either voluntarily restrict birth or the"big brothers" are going to do it for us.Miss Bernays may be remembered by readersof THE LADDER for her 1962 minorLesbian novel SHORT PLEASURES.Though paperback reprints seldom includeany biographical data at all, we noted thatthe 1964 reprint of SHORT PLEASURESexplained that Miss Bernays was a graduateof one of the 7 sisters but was safelymarried and the mother of three. NEW YORK DOB: PAGEANT MAGAZINE,March 1970. This issue ofPAGEANT contains a verbatim reprint ofEnid Nemy's NEW YORK TIMES columnon Lesbianism which was partly about theN.Y. chapter of DOB. Very wide coverage,but this is a mixed view... loaded withtoo much Dr. Socarides... (Those of youwho wrote to suggest that Dr. U.Sockitome, THE LADDER, December/Januaryissue, is related to Dr. Socarides arethanked for your views.) PLAYBOY AGAIN. March 1970.PLAYBOY FORUM continues to provokeinteresting comments on civil rights forhomosexuals... we recommend readingthis section of the magazine, even if youcan't stand the rest. BRITAIN WOMEN'S GROUPS: NEWYORK TIMES, March 2, 1970. BernardWeinraub reports that 15 equality groupshave sprung up in Britain during the lastyear. 28 PER CENT MORE COMPLAINTSwere filed by women in 1969 than in 1968with the Labor Department on charges ofunequal pay for equal work... good.(WALL STREET JOURNAL, March 3,1970.) ANN LANDERS AGAIN: March 6,1970. A mother asked Ann to rerun arecent column on Lesbians because she has"a-daughter in college who writes she hasfallen in love with her roommate." Ann'sreply was first to find out if the roommatewas a boy or a girl... and her usualsecond half-reply, suggest therapy, and ifnot, LEAVE HER ALONE.
AND GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF
THE DAUGHTERS OF BILITIS, INC.
Daughters of BILITIS
LADDER
APRIL/MAY, 1970President Rita Laporte Vice President, East Joan Kent Vice President, West Jess k. Lane Treasurer Leona Mac Editor Gene Damon Production Assistants Lyn Collins, Kim Stabinski,King Kelly, Ann Brady Production Editors Robin and Dana Jordan Secretary to the Editor Tracy Wright Women's Coalition by Jess K. Lane Lesbian Life in England by Val Vanderwood Women's Wing short story by Jocelyn Hayward Uses of Sexual Guilt by James Colton Poetry Patricia Michaels, Michiko Yamaguchi, Gabrielle l'Autre,
Martha Shelley, Celia Leman, Carol Cunliffe14 Masquerade by Dorothy Lyle 19 Lesbiana by Gene Damon 23 Personal File: The Transsexual Experienceby Karl Ericsen 25 Before the Gap Becomes a Chism by Fen Gregory 27 Ecclesiastes Be Damned episode by Patricia Michaels 28 Lesbian Literature in 1969 by Gene Damon 29 Cross Currents 31 Readers Respond 38 Whatever Happened to Sally? by Del Martin 41 A Brother's Viewpoint by Jack Stroud 42 Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright by Jane Alden 44
sexuality and women's and men's diverseerotic needs and feelings. This is particularlytrue among the young who rejectthe typing of people sexually, do not seevariation as "deviant," and are consequentlynot fearful of their own orothers' sexuality as their elders may havebeen. Alice commented: "Homosexuality is99% cultural." She found that traditionally"the homosexual community has been highlyconservative"--a pattern that was brokenwith the advent of the Gay LiberationMovement, at first predominantly male.Alice told of her contacts with this group inthe Bay Area and of seeing the need for alike openness for Lesbians. Informally, tenor twelve women who felt this need cametogether to explore their situation. "Nowthere are 35 of us in Women's Gay Liberationhere." Closing her effective talk, AliceMolloy said, "I was going to do somethinghere, but was told it might not be advisable..."As she paused and smiled over theaudience, one could sense a feeling ofexpectation: the women present wished herto go on. After a silence Alice said, "I'll tellyou what I had in mind--and leave it toyou. I was going to ask if every woman inthe hall who had ever felt she could beerotically attracted to another womanwould care to stand up." After the electricstatement the silence was tensely felt.Several women stood, including your reporter.A few more slowly followed. Then,like a dam bursting, practically everywoman of the 200 or so in the hall was onher feet. Since the majority undoubtedlythought of themselves as "straight" andwere living heterosexual lives, this could beseen as an expression of acceptance andsisterly solidarity, beautiful in its spontaneity.Perhaps also it was something of agroup confession, for the atmosphere ofrelief was evident, and reflected in the frankgive-and-take of the platform-audienceinterchange that followed.
care services so as to help women go, orreturn, to college. This group also is workingto end job discrimination. It has awomen's study program.
opinions by and about Lesbians. It hasreported research findings and encouragedparticipation in many research projects relatedto homosexuality. At certain times ithas allowed pen pal introductions and apersonal advertisements column within itscovers, although current issues have deletedthe advertisements. In short, a subscriptionto Arena Three could add flavor and anticipationto a prospective journey, or addfurther dimension to regular Lesbian reading.Subscription rates are $8.00 annuallyfor overseas subscriptions. Address: EsmeLangley & Co., BCM/Seahorse, London,W.C. I, England.
London's theater offerings are excellent inquality and only moderate in cost by NewYork or San Francisco standards. The citiesand towns arc filled with cultural andhistorical museums, (Just in case of summerrain which is prevalent), but it is the flavorof the individual buildings and the crooksand crannies just around every bend thatwhet imagination and the job of exploration.
humans need to try for the Impossible, needto reach out--for the moon, certainly, butalso for human understanding. Sexual freedomis there to reach out for, and it'swithin our grasp if we will dedicate ourselvesto its achievement--each in our owncountries but internationally, too ...English, Australian, Canadian, and Yankalike.
caption
quite hard and gives trouble only on Saturdaynights. She is quite lucky to have gothim; she could have done a lot worse.
expecting a kick. The little Filipino whocollects blood samples--"Why you take somuch, greedy?" shrills the fat hysterectomyin 23--looks positively terrified.
blonde at the roots nor in the straggle ofhair at her armpits.
caption
Deaths with no hold on us other than our births;
We sheltered our fears until our deaths
And walked sublimely to reminisce our mirths.
We vexed one another with constrained remorse;
We never once shed our veils of fright
Or adventures emanating from our selfless course.
Avoiding the incandescent question,
"Why is this sinful?" "Why must we appease?"
Each touch and embrace a portent of deception.
Which promised in clandestine affirmation
(To worship each other's desires)
Likewise we pledged again until death, until now,
And calmly led ourselves to delve assuredly beneath the mires.
Knew that the ram of sacrifice
Must be belted and bejeweled,
Marked with memento mori,
Carefully tended and dressed
In the ritual, feasted.
In the prime of lust and luxury,
He must go knowingly, eagerly,
As a man prepared.
Studded in chrome
Hang chains from his waist, ring his hands,
Strap on his boots.
At the feast of masks let him strip,
Give stripes, receive adoration, ram.
He who goes down before the Lord
Must be without blemish.
Mount, ride through the misty streets,
Ascend at the cross road with sirens
Wailing kyrie, beautiful symbol
Of his body sailing high and then ruined forever,
Cut by the chromium jewels,
Blood spurting out of the leather like love,
for you to drown in,
no trace of patterned sound--
only unbroken stillness
as you sit at a low table
folding flights of paper cranes;
you--bewildered, silenced
by a flock of voiceless birds.
I endure her walk.
She is passive, silent, reserved,
Lost in her thoughts.
Without effort
And hesitates before speaking
As though timidity had caught her.
Except in a whisper;
I nod politely,
But her skin is soft
And the whiteness intrigues me.
The tangled rhythm, slow pulse of hymn,
Tortured El Greco tempered and annealed,
Wild passion fixed yet not congealed,
Urge swirled by environment yet, in girth
And reach, thrusting from anchoring earth
Against shaping wind and oppressing air
To climb, grow, blossom. You who despair,
Feel you are part of the whole design,
Lending to landscape more dramatic line
And richer mood. Less rooted, more free,
You give to the heath more beauty than the tree,
And to life, and to me.
This couch. The lamp is bright
And sends warm glades of light
To slide along your thigh and scatter off your knee,
Like waterfalls that splash off rocks below.
We ate--your face is shining with the heat
And richness of the food. The wine was sweet
And loosed your hand to swing in slow
White curves that measured off the rhythm of your speech.
Give me your hand, and let mine
Follow down the golden line
Of light, as far as I can reach,
Around your waist and up into the puffs of hair
At the nape, and at the hollow
Of your throat, where if I follow
Too long, may be lost in contemplating there,
In the darkening valley, on slopes that are steep.
Give me your hand, and share with me
This couch, and offer me
The cup of gold. I will drink deep.
Martha Shelley
The bleak fans
Labor to unwind the August air
In smoky streams
Tapping of a woman's heels
And a flash-by-silk blouse.
And in my ears the beating of
insensate blood
Of hot rice wine in ginger lands
A dark room with a sliding paper door
And alien flesh to burn my hands
I heard crossed knees
Shifting on the sofa springs,
Beneath white words she
Like the curtains at the Met
Drawn for pale Aida,
Are the folds and stripes of her robe,
Blood-color fells of velvet:
Stiffly paces the chambers
Of bone caves beneath my face,
Gazing at her.
Love!--is toast and tea,
An ordered house
In a distant valley
In solid rainsheets falls,
Wordless, Keening in the dark;
I hear her blood across the room.
Martha Shelley
Is also most-beloved.
My younger self would not believe
What did not taste of apples or touch silk
Or funnel out in gallon jugs
Or ring on counters in candy stores
Her hands that I have never held
Have claimed some squatter's right
on my heart
And I cannot be free.
And every night I hurry home to mail
Like a lemming scenting sea.
Your cat-dilated, almost amber eyes
(as space between beats grows smaller
on drums that light broken streets)
Your touch draws
power-down; current
back of my eyes.
We are too crowded in one room.
the rapids of the Colorado
wild within cliffs
And you a storm
come down tundra
onto Montana.
too narrow a path
For the lightning your fingers suggest;
Your lips demure
our cruel-edged limitations.
I almost ask you
Go; let me be
some small cool thing
greybird
Crossing the Plains
starless
In late November.
My soul moved, bruised.
against the inside of my skin
Where it touched you,
As I could hear your soul move.
We lay together, unconsoled,
Wanting something more than
body's interpretation,
Beyond words, beyond caresses.
My soul was bruised
Because I could not be
You and myself besides.
With bright flowers, twine them
In her long, loose hair;
And I would bathe and dress,
and so prepare
For her embrace--if she came softly,
And I were aware.
you have told me,
your green eyes glinting gold by candlelight--
and you become an antiquary
reading from an ancient map the words
HERE IN LIE TYGERS,
while your fingers trace each letter,
discovering by touch those continents
where tigers roam
upon vast moonlit veldts.
I come to you each night,
turn tiger underneath your hands
and in your eyes.
and soon we'll have no gardens left
except for a withered bonsai
in an enamelled niche;
no clogs on cobblestones,
only the rush of rubber wheels
upon cement. Ask any crane
soaring above the city.--
one day we shall behold Mount Fuji gone
and in its place a gray stone wall
with no gate.
A lover of women, you worship only the sun,
And for all your striving, though you look the part,
Though you've treated me like a man from the start,
I am more a lady than you,
And I must be a woman too.
You cannot comprehend my quiet kind of love,
The unspoken, gentle on the mind kind of love,
That lasts far beyond the loud bar, bed, and dawn
Through dark, lonely hours when the other is gone,
Not a quickly-broken promising love,
But enduring, all encompassing love.
in the accounts of her life.) The captain ofthis merchantman took a liking to thesteward, and in America she visited hisRhode Island home where she courted hisdaughter--only leaving when the daughterpressed for marriage. Mary eventually sailedback to England where she was abducted bya "press-gang" (men who stole sailors andsold them as slave labor on other ships).
very questionable. The only possible "fact"from his version is the name of the wife ofCharley Wilson. He calls her Anne Ridgway,and one or two magazine articles use thisname also; but it is not a verifiable fact.
the decree against her since she was only inher middle 20's at that time and was quiteclearly a Lesbian.
caption
caption
HIGH COMMAND, N.Y., Weybright andTalley, 1970. This is about how it allhappens when the women really do takeover the world ... in high gear. It featuresmale stereotypes along the lines one sees ontelevision, and it fails mightily in both itslarger concept and its humor, but it doesend with an all female world ... presumablyquite happy.
real person, but she is more real than mostchosen for this sort of pivot point in anovel. I will be accused of much prejudicehere, but Miss Marshall is a better writer,hands down, than any black male novelistI've yet read... and to that I add, hurrahfor her.
c/o Rita Laporte, Nat'l. Pres.
Daughters of Bilitis
1005 Market Street, Room 208
San Francisco, Calif. 94103
taken (often a hypogonadal conditionshows up in these) a cornification test isgiven (testing for female hormones) andreflexes are tested (for instance, the "gaggingreflex" is primarily male--gaggingwhen an object is put near but not touchingthe pharnyx lining).
RIGHT to be different. Basic to this attitudeis the assertion that the larger societycannot legitimately dictate the life patternsof social habits of its individual members.
THE LADDER
ARE AVAILABLE
YOU'VE READ IT!
an annual review by Gene Damon
Leonard Gardner, N.Y., Farrar, Straus andGiroux, 1969, is one of the candidates forthe National Book Award for this year;Richard Condon's blockbuster MILE HIGH,N.Y., Dial, 1969, and London, Heinemann,1969, is simply delightful to read, and theLesbian portion though minor has far reachingconsequences; Paule Marshall's THECHOSEN PLACE, THE TIMELESSPEOPLE, N.Y., Harcourt, Brace and World,1969, is an excellent novel.
Article by Judy Nicol with the utterlysenseless title, SHOULD WE RECOGNIZEWOMEN'S FIGHT? The article itself Isgood... for what it purports to be. Wait,Chicago, till you all hear about the issue ofRAT I am going to talk about later.
treated to Interviews with Rita Laporte,national president; Eve Devon, president ofCleveland DOB, and Stacey Smith, memberof Cleveland DOB, late in January 1970.
Kansas, February 1970. The students of theSociology Department of this school compiled28 questions for Rita, Laporte toanswer... by long distance, having Ritatape the two-hour question-and-answer sessionfor their use. The tape and severalissues of THE LADDER were provided tothe school.
Guild, appealed to the State Supreme Courtof California on February 27, 1970. Thesuit asks the court to overturn a StatePublic Utilities Commission ruling whichbacked the telephone company's refusal tolist the organizations in the yellow pages.
SAN DIEGO, March 10, 1970. BobbiGove, president of San Diego's chapter,spoke to about 40 students in a socialscience course at San Diego State College... usual basic data... response wasgood, and this is encouraging in this area,for unlike much of California, this is aconservative locale.
NOW WE ARE NINE: President RitaLaporte is happy to announce that as ofMarch 15, 1970 there are NINE CHAPTERSOF DOB... their addresses arelisted on the official page elsewhere in thisissue. . Newly chartered groups areCHICAGO, ILLINOIS, RENO, NEVADAand MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA. Forthose of you in the still-unchartered groups,it is encouraging to you (we hope) to addthat the Reno, Nevada chapter has been inthe works for about a year-and-a-half ...so don't be Impatient--it just takes workand time.
AND YOU LAZY SOULS who live in ornear DENVER, COLORADO and PORTLAND,OREGON and DETROIT,MICHIGAN, get going, at least investigateyour nearest group and maybe help a little,too. The rewards are great.
DENVER DOB, P.O. BOX 9057,SOUTH DENVER STATION, DENVER,COLORADO 80209.
PORTLAND DOB, P.O. BOX 8857,PORTLAND, OREGON 97208.
DETROIT DOB, P.O. BOX 4490, DETROIT,MICHIGAN 48288.
NEWS, DAMNIT, IS IMPORTANT:ALL OVER THE U.S., EVERY DAY,EVERY MONTH, EVERY YEAR. That isthe headline and dateline I'd like to burninto all of your memories... I can onlyput material into this column if you provideit to me. I need much more from the NewYork. City and Los Angeles areas... and ifany of you in any other city or town in theU.S. see anything at all about HOMOSEXUALS,LESBIANS, CIVIL RIGHTSFOR EITHER OR BOTH, WOMEN'SRIGHTS, etc., and don't take the simpletime to clip it, mark the publication nameand date on it and send It to me, you aredenying some of your own people, living
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somewhere else, from seeing the news.Please, please help ... I'd rather be inundatedwith 500 copies of a single clippingthan miss one scrap of national or localnews on these topics.
FLASH NEWS... NEW ORLEANS nowhas a DOB group forming, and you canreach them at DOB, P.O. Box 24033,Lakeview Station, New Orleans, Louisiana70124.
Readers Respond
(The following letter was sent to Mr.Herb Caen of the San FranciscoCHRONICLE on January 26, 1970,by the "Action Core" of the SanFrancisco DOB Chapter, the SocialAction Committee of NOVA and theGay Women's Liberation (S.F.Group).)
Dear Mr. Caen,
We are deeply concerned over the"news" Item which appeared on November17th in the Chronicle, an item apparentlyreleased by Attorney Melvin Belli's office,which Involved the firing of the 5stewardesses from Western Airlines. Theitem read as follows:
"Notes of a Newsnik: Five stewardesseson the S.F.-L.A. run, firedfor alleged lesbianism, have retainedAttorney Melvin Belli to fight theirfickle fate... "
As a Newsnik, your abilities as a newsgatherer need some developing. There wereonly 3 girls involved, not 5. They were notstewardesses, but held high positions in themanagement of Western Airlines." Thecharge of "lesbianism" was never mentioned.Only one of the girls had specificcharges brought against her, charges whichImplied lesbian activity, but which were soabsurd in nature that they were subsequentlydropped, and the Airlines rehired the girl.Only one of the women is being representedby the Belli office. Another girl has beendismissed from the airlines, but no chargeshave been made public; the woman herselfis not even aware of them. She was subsequentlyreplaced by a man, who has been atWestern only a year--as opposed to her 18years of service. She is fighting her dismissalon the grounds of female sexual discrimination,and is taking her case throughthe EOC.
Whether or not the women are gay isbeside the point. What we question is whythe Chronicle would treat the subject ofanti-lesbian job discrimination so lightly.We in the gay community experienceenough pressure and fear in our lives simplyIn our efforts to get by. The threat ofexpulsion from jobs is a real and frighteningprospect to everyone who is homosexual.We at least, Mr. Caen, are fully aware of ourtenuous position in society, as you do notseem to be aware--at least aware in thesense of what it means for a gay person tolose his job. It is not pleasant to hear one'slife described as a "fickle fate" in yourglorified gossip column.
Your cute and clever attitude treats thehomosexual as an object, not so much ofdisdain or disgust, but of sly ridicule. Weare those laughable fairies with the limpwrists, or the bull dykes in their tailoredsuits and cropped hairdos. Humor is fine--in fact, many gay people will be the first tolaugh at the stereotype above, but this kindof humor is not so funny when it fails toelucidate the problems in back of "it--problems which deserve far more seriousconcern than this item Indicated they do.
If you're setting out to titillate thegeneral public, then why don't you carrythe joke a bit further--titillate the goodstraight world with this--tell them that aperson's sexuality is hardly a matter ofpublic concern. Tell them that a homosexualcan function just as well in a jobsituation as anyone else. Tell them thatone's sexual proclivities are not sufficientgrounds for the dismissal of anyone, unlessthey interfere with one's job.
That will undoubtedly titillate them noend. And perhaps one day the point willeven sink home.
(Editor's Note: There Is never roomto include the dozens of letters sentby staff members of THE LADDER,by Rita Laporte, and by other membersof DOB to periodicals and newspapers.However, whenever anyarticle appears that we feel requires areply, one is sent. Some are printed,some are not. Those that do get intoprint always get mentioned in THELADDER. They bring us, newpeople, sometimes from half way
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around the world. More importantlythey assure us of OUR voice beingheard.)
Dear Miss Damon:
I thought you and the readers of"Lesbiana" might be interested in knowingof the existence of the Tartan Book Sales,P.O. Box 914, Williamsport, Pennsylvania17701. They are a mail order house specializingin hard cover editions of current titlesat really astonishing prices. What pleasedme more than anything, though, when Ireceived their free catalog (I'd sent for it)was discovering several books of specialinterest to us, including some you've reviewedrecently.
So, any of your readers interested inbuilding a library of hard cover titles oughtto send for a catalog and start ordering.
R.L.
Columbus, Ohio
Dear Editor:
Re May Swenson's poetry (THELADDER, February/March, 1970). Youmissed the best of all, suggest you all read"A Trellis For R" in the Winter, 1969 issueof THE SOUTHERN REVIEW, page 78.
K.M.
Reno, Nevada
(Editor's Note: Three readersbrought this poem to my attention.)
Dear Gene Damon:
Dr. James Pike spent much energy in thepursuit and defense of personal honesty andfree choice, both ideals close to the concernof DOB members. Since his death, his wife,Diane Kennedy Pike, is working to holdtogether the organization he initiated forthose who feel the inadequacies of thetraditional church and wish to affiliate witha transitional group. Information about TheBishop Pike Foundation (formerly TheFoundation for Religious Transition) can beobtained by writing P.O. Box 5146, SantaBarbara, Calif., 93103. A complimentarycopy of their publication, New Focus, maybe requested.
Carla S.Virginia
(Editor's Note: Bishop Pike had ex-pressed an interest in our work in thepast, Carla. He was scheduled tospeak at a DOB convention in pastyears, but was unable to at the lastmoment. Those who value freedomeverywhere mourn his loss.)
To: Readers of THE LADDERFrom: ORPHAN VOYAGE, a program forpersons of illegitimate birth and other socialorphans, including "adopted" orphans.
I have been reading THE LADDER formany months, having been introduced to itby one of the members of ORPHANVOYAGE. I have been quite interested fortwo reasons: One, many members ofORPHAN VOYAGE are of homosexualpersuasion; two, THE LADDER is presenting,through its letters column, a preliminarydialogue about the relationshipsamong different minority groups, personsof different afflictions. In the December-January1968 issue, Helen Sanders stressesthe differences between the Negro andthe Lesbian. The Negro, she says, is bornthis way. Well, so is the bastard. Also, shestresses, the Lesbian can "pass" and fewNegroes can. So can the bastard pass--if hehas been adopted. But he does not passinwardly. And here is an important commonfactor. That is, we of different afflictionscan resemble those in other groups inone way while differing from them inanother. Is this a disadvantage or an opportunity?
In the sixteen years that I have been"directing" ORPHAN VOYAGE, I have, ofcourse, been very much aware of the effortsof other people to overcome their socialhandicaps and have often pondered whetherI might learn from their efforts somethingto help the people I have been the mostconcerned about, people adopted anddenied knowledge of their ancestry, forbiddento make any approach to theirnatural family. To be quite frank, I havenot found too much help in this way. Themembers of ORPHAN VOYAGE perhapsresemble THE LADDER readers in therelative invisibility of their condition andthe problem that is presented to them inany effort to overcome their handicaps:Becoming visible. Oh it is difficult toremove the cloak!
Some of the DAUGHTERS OF BILITISseem to believe that if society would passlaws giving them status, permitting themmarriage, ceasing to discriminate, that theywould acquire a sort of social security, asense of belonging which they lack now,and which it is so painful to lack. Theyseem to be wanting something similar to the
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conditions of adoption, whereby persons ofillegitimate birth can apparently becomemembers of society without prejudice. Butas I know, adoption does not overcomeillegitimacy, but only veils it. People vary asto the willingness they feel to live under aprotective veil. Would it not be the same forthe Lesbian, for any homosexual, if societyshould actually give them legitimate status?There would still be something lacking, andmany would chafe and all the answerswould have been used up.
I, as an adopted person, and as a pastsocial worker and researcher in the socialsciences, confronted just such a situation inmy middle years. Adoption gave me securitywithin society, but not within the largerworld which includes nature. If one is tolive as a part; of this larger whole, one musthave human ancestry. I groped my way intothe population of adopted people, gatheredcourage to look for my natural mother,found her, wrote about adopted people,encouraged them in their desire for wholeness,and tried to conceive of a programwhich would answer an impossible demand:How can an individual who finds himselfplaced between two warring factions, societyand nature, belong to both?
Let me describe, briefly, what I haveattempted to build, for persons whosehandicap is described in such different terminologythan your own. I have tried tobuild something for them which society hasfrowned upon in its policies. I have tried tocircumvent the sealed birth record whichconfronts adopted people as they mature. Ihave tried to do this in a way which can, forat least some adopted people, solve theirfailed sense of identity. They have beenoffered by ORPHAN VOYAGE a ReunionFile, to which they may come and registertheir names and circumstances, hopeful thatthose they wish to rejoin, their naturalparents, will some day do the same. In thisway, for these few people, a reconciliationwill be possible in a deeply realistic way.They will thus be able to lay the "ghost" ofabsent parents, they may become somewhatfamiliar with their ancestry, they may learndirectly and in the perspective of time, whyit was they were "abandoned" in infancy orchildhood.
As I have seen in some cases, people areimmensely relieved to have these questionsanswered in this way. They take heart froman enlarged sense of human identity; theyshare the human condition with people whoare entirely legitimate--yet who are reallynot so different. For when one penetratesbehind society's definitions of status, onefinds that there is a deeper substrata withinwhich the conflicts of society are solved. Ofcourse it is difficult to venture beyond thedefinitions of society; it is a lonely type ofventure, and not everyone is equipped toengage in it. For those who are, ORPHANVOYAGE stands ready to offer its resources,its Reunion File, and its efforts to lendassociation to adopted people. One cannotcome out of such an experience unscathed,but earlier scars do have a way of disappearingunder the impact of reconciliation.
I have written these words for twopurposes: One, to offer the services ofORPHAN VOYAGE to those members ofthe DAUGHTERS OF BILITIS who mightbe interested; and to raise questions in theirminds as well as in my own about howmuch can be learned by two differently-organizedassociations (dealing in apparentlydifferent afflictions) from each others' programming.From reading THE LADDER Iam not clear whether the Lesbian findsherself in conflict with society or withnature or with both. Not knowing this, Ican hardly make any suggestions aboutprogramming other than outlining as I haveabove how the adopted person finds himselfor herself in relation to society and nature.It is fortunate for us that a solution isinherent in the situation.
A final word. There are so many individualdifferences. People disagree violentlyabout solutions to afflictions. What helpsone does not help another. Is there any waythrough this problem? When I released myfirst study, "The Adopted-Break Silence", itwas severely criticized by professionals becauseit was an "inadequate sample", orbecause the participants were thought to beoverly sophisticated (as readers of the SATURDAYREVIEW). But it has proven tocontain a valid hypothesis. The study wasbased on the life history approach. Thequestions answered related to various facetsof that life history. It could be seen in thisway that what might seem different at oneage became a similarity at another. Is notsomething of the same possible for thehomosexual? Are there any life historystudies made of their lives? Is there a desireto have such studies made?
(Editors Note: Miss Paton welcomesinquires from orphans regardingORPHAN VOYAGE. These,however, should be directed to THELADDER editor.)
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Whatever Happened to Sally?
by Del Martin
She was a pretty young woman--short,dark-haired, slim, brown-eyed, soft spoken.When she first showed up at the DOB officeshe appeared shy and nervous. She hadn'tbroken up with her girl friend, and shewasn't contemplating suicide. But like a lotof young women who come to DOB shewanted to meet some Lesbians, wanted totalk to them.
She had to be honest though. She was agraduate student, a nurse who was doing asociological study on the life style of thefemale homosexual. Could she attend themeetings, discussions and social activities?Would she, an outsider, be accepted by thewomen in DOB?
Well, for one year she did and she was--and then she disappeared.
Sally had made quite an impression onthe group. She was warm, understanding,sensitive to them as human beings. Shecould laugh with them and at herself. Thegirls opened up to her in trust. And then,paper done and class over, this warm,almost intimate, friendship ended.
Whatever happened to Sally? weasked. We never did receive a copy of herresearch paper, as she had promised. Fiveyears passed. The Council on Religion andthe Homosexual was invited to sendspeakers for an inservice education workshopfor nurses at a San Francisco hospital.Dorr Jones and I were assigned to do thejob. The program was in session when wearrived, and we sat down at the back of theauditorium.
A pretty, dark-haired woman turnedaround. "Hi, Del," she grinned in recognition.It was Sally--shy and nervousonce again. Then to my surprise she roseand strode to the platform. She was somewhatapprehensive because, as she said later,I had been involved and I was present at herfirst attempt to discuss publicly her adventuresin DOB.
Sally began by saying she intended todiscuss female homosexuality, that so muchhad been reported on the male, but littleWas actually known about the Lesbian. Asfemales, they are still basically women withthe values of a woman and have more incommon with women in general than withthe broad term homosexuality, she observed.Most people think of Lesbians asmasculine, but this is not the ease.
In courtship Sally pointed out thatLesbians have the same kinds of concerns asother women--warmth, attraction, emotionalties with the sexual secondary, commoninterests, companionship. Whilesharing was emphasized, physical beautywas down the list. The goal is "marriage"and building a home. A high premium isplaced on long lasting relationships, andthose who have achieved this become counsellorsand role models. There is less incidenceof promiscuity. If it exists, it isdiscreet--certainly a womanly characteristic.
While Lesbians as a rule are not assubject to arrest, there is a great deal ofconcern with the law, Sally observed. Thereis concern also about appearance and image,how to present one's self to the largersociety so as not to be offensive andobvious.
Sally alluded to certain stages andphases in the life of the Lesbian. At first shemay dress like a man in order to identifyherself as a Lesbian in order to meet othersor out of hostility against a repressivesociety. But she found that there was lessneed for this manifestation of behaviorwhen the Lesbian came to accept herself.
In the social aspect of Lesbian life, Sallyfound that most prefer home parties to gaybars, that they tended toward private circlesof friends with similar socio-economic interests.New Year's Eve, for example, wouldbe spent at a home party and not out inpublic, for the Lesbian would want to bewith her mate at midnight.
The Lesbian is very concerned withrejection--even by another woman as wellas society. Because of her sensitivity to theother person's reaction, the Lesbian isprone to gentleness and exclusiveness.
In the area of security, Sally noted thatmany Lesbians worried about what wouldhappen to them when they grew old.Emphasis was placed on job security. Forfear of losing her job the Lesbian wasforced to assume a double identity and useda fictitious name in relating to DOB or wasknown in the homophile community byfirst name only or a nickname.
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When asked if Lesbians were troubledabout not bearing children, Sally admittedthis was an area of concern to some. Shestated that a number had been heterosexuallymarried and did have childrenwhom they were rearing. When questionedas to what kind of life they might wish fortheir children, more times than not theyexpressed the desire for them to grow up"straight."
As for the Lesbian's desire to change,Sally found that the emphasis was placedrather on feeling comfortable and acceptanceof self.
Asked about male and female roles inthe Lesbian relationship, Sally indicatedthere was not a sharp difference, that therewas an. evolution of roles dependent uponwho has what interest and ability. Whilethere may be marked differences early inthe relationship or among younger Lesbians,the difference is more in attire thanself image. The one may be slightly moremasculine in subtle ways, such as the use ofmake-up or in manners. There is littlecorrelation in the sexual role where there ismore a concept of sameness. Passive andaggressive is more an attitude than a lifestyle, Sally concluded.
As to value of an organization like DOB,Sally noted it stemmed from a concern forgeneral welfare and mutual benefit, helpedindividuals to find self knowledge and selfunderstanding, served to educate the public,provided a safe meeting place where onecould let one's hair down and participate inin-group discussions, and lent support intimes of crisis.
Regarding the Lesbian's feelings aboutmen, Sally said that would depend on thecharacteristics of the men they came incontact with. She found no particular hostilitytoward men in general.
When she first began her study onLesbianism, Sally said she naively andopenly discussed it with her women colleagues.The responses she received includeddead silence, non-verbal anxiety, analysis ofher motivation in undertaking the study,defensiveness. As result of the study, Sallyadmitted she did have to sort out her ownfeelings. That is why she did nothing withher report, why some five years later shewas only beginning to come out and speak.about it.
Whatever happened to Sally? She cameto understand herself better as well asothers. She became a nurse among nurses.She is now the director of education at aSan Francisco hospital.
(Del Martin is one of DOB's founders.She and Phyllis Lyon are nowworking on a definitive study of theLesbian for a major publishing company.)
A Brother's Viewpoint
by Jack Stroud
I AM A HETEROSEXUAL MALE, 38years old, divorced, and the father of twohealthy boys aged 10 and 7. For the past 22years, I have lived with the knowledge thatmy sister, ten years my senior, is a Lesbian.On Gene Damon's kind invitation, I amhonored to give "my side of the story,"that is, what it has meant to me to learn, toadjust to, and accept the fact that my oldersister is, as we used to say, "not like othergirls."
It is an awesome task and requires, as Isee it, a good understanding at the outsetbetween reader and writer as to my purposesin accepting it. In the first place, Isupport the objectives of DOB and of itspublication, The Ladder. I believe that it isnothing less than humanly and spirituallyright to accept fully as brother or sister anyperson, regardless of race, color, previouscondition of servitude, or sexual orientation,who lives with a concern for otherpeople and for the right of everyone to selfexpression consistent with the commongood. Specifically in the case of homosexuality,I believe that no one, whethersecure in his conviction of heterosexualityor fearful of exposing a latent or realhomosexuality, has the right to ridicule,denigrate, or prosecute the gay male orfemale who practices his or her love and sexideals privately and honorably. If I can beof the smallest help in furthering this kindof human and humane viewpoint, I shall becompensated many times over.
In the second place, much of my income
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is earned through writing, and perhaps thebest contribution I can make at present tothe acceptance of homosexuals and Lesbiansby our society is an article in apublication most concerned with the problem.I am not writing to see my words inprint. On the contrary, I approach thisassignment with a deep sense of humilityand commonality.
Finally, let it be understood that Iwelcome reactions, including violent disagreements,to my experiences and beliefs.The idea is to begin a conversation ordialogue (perhaps multilogue is a betterword) between people who are concernedwith one group's denial of certain basicrights; it is to suggest, in minds and heartsthat may not have opened up sufficiently asyet, that it is not the homosexual who is acancer in society, but people's attitudetoward him or her; and it is to stimulatenew ways of regarding and coping with asituation as old and, I suspect, as lasting, asmankind.
Awakening
It was a warm summer evening in 1947when my sister, back east from the Women'sArmy Corps in California and a coupleof years of civilian employment there afterthe war, asked to talk with me and explainsomething about her that was important forme to know. We sat at the dining roomtable in our parents' country house, and a26-year-old woman haltingly, sometimestearfully, explained to her 16-year-oldyounger brother how she didn't like menbut preferred women, how this was why shehad to leave the W.A.C. before her enlistmentwas up, and how sorry she was tohave to tell me this.
Both of us drank a bit too much; andwhen my sister went to bed aroundmidnight, I remained highly overwroughtand went down to a nearby lake for a timealone under the stars. Rowing out onto thelake, I alternately sobbed convulsively andcursed God for visiting on me and on mysister this unnatural, evil curse. I was a littledrunk, a little more shocked, and greatlyconfused. What did it all mean? Was mysister some kind of inhuman ogre?
I was not the only one shocked. I wassoon to learn that my (our) father andmother were equally, if not more, dismayed."When we first heard that Monawas in trouble," one of them said, "we ofcourse thought there was an illegitimatechild. Now that we know the real trouble,we only wish there had been such a child!"
Thus were my frightful suspicions confirmed:my sister had done, and was,something unspeakable. All news of heractions and condition would be suppressedwhere possible. We would hug the deadlysecret to our bosoms.
Struggle
For a while--about two years--I didnot see Mona very much as I finished prepschool in Massachusetts and she lived for atime in New York and then went toOakland, California. Then in the fall of1949, being a restless sort myself, I droveout west to spend some time, perhaps ayear, with my sister. I got a job in a smallprinting shop and lived with Mona and hermate in my sister's house. Lots of my ownhangups were involved in this ill-fated sojourn;not being at all trained psychologically,I don't pretend to know what theywere. But I respected, or at least wanted tomaintain a respect for, my sister; I felt Icould talk to her as I could not with myparents; and, in fact, I was quite dependenton her as I had been since she had changedmy baby diapers.
That stay was to last not quite threemonths. Whatever I had expected to findout west with my older, and wiser, sister, Idid not find. We all drank too much onseveral occasions; once I had to sit througha sexy dance by Mona's mate as Ravel's"Bolero" filled the room (I felt quiteuncomfortable because, however appealingshe looked, my knowing she was queermade the whole performance unexciting tothe point of disgust); and the "three's-a-crowd"situation broke apart one eveningin November, after which I returned to NewYork.
Since then, some 20 years ago, my sisterand I have not spent more than a few daystogether at a time, and these times havebeen few. But mark my words: she has beenvery often on my mind and in my life, andher effect on me has been far greater, inmany areas, than I sometimes care to admit.
There were the times--and they arelegion--when I found myself unable orunwilling to carry through a relationshipwith a girl to its logical conclusion, whensomething or a number of somethings preventedme from expressing and acting out abeginning love for another person. In largepart, I think now, this was my upbringingand parental outlook restraining me andhad little or nothing directly to do with my
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sister. And yet ... could I, too, behomosexual? (I had had; as most boys do--I know now, but knew not then--a coupleof homosexual experiences which had beenquite pleasant.) Was homosexuality somethingcatching, like the "flu? Did it run infamilies?
I began to get the unmistakable impressionthat most girls rather objected toboys, that women considered men more orless animals only, led by the penis, interestedin quick sexual satisfaction and notthe least bit concerned with the higherthings in life--with sensitivity, Creativity,love and compassion. Did not my sister, myolder, wiser, sister, believe this and expressher belief frequently?
Then there were the implicit assumptions--sometimes the explicit declarations--that I was latently homosexual and tryingdesperately by outward conformity to hidethe fact from others, and especially frommyself. This was a horrible thought tocontemplate!
Why was it so horrible? For severalreasons. I suspect that the strongest of themwas my own ignorance of what homosexualitywas. I simply did not understandthe condition, or phenomenon (I didn'tknow what to call it, much less describe it).And as the years went by without my goingto bed with a girl in spite of severalopportunities, I could not shake myself freefrom a feeling of dread.
There was another reason for homosexuality'shorror to me. My parent's suppressionof the whole "sordid" affair (and Idon't blame them; they too, faced society'scensure if the knowledge should out). Andthen--well--a feeling sometimes of greatpersonal lack: I did not have a "normal"sister, hence not a normal family, and I feltsubstantially deprived.
Acceptance
But the days of wine and sorrows overthese matters are largely over for me now,and I have hopes are coming to a close formy sister as well. I reached, between a year.and two years ago, a sure knowledge deepdown that I am heterosexual. I am glad ofthis, because I am not looking for one moreproblem to deal with. And I am glad for mysister, who has found a purpose she believesin, and one I believe in: a bringing into theopen, for discussion and acceptance if notfor enthusiastic acclaim, the propositionthat the homosexual has a right to his orher private life and emotions and loves tothe very same extent that any other humanbeing has that right.
I look back and know beyond anydoubt that my own process of adjusting toand accepting my sister's Lesbianism was along and hard one. I also know that it doesnot compare with her difficulties. But thepoint is that homosexual and heterosexualalike were and are faced with obstacles,some or many of which need not have beenin the way.
Had there been, for example, a greaterunderstanding, or just a greater tolerance,of the homosexual in our society, thepressures on my sister, on me and on ourparents would have been to some extentdissipated. If people's minds now weregenerally more open to the fact that thehomosexual is a human being with talentsand needs similar in many ways to anyother human being, then today's and tomorrow'sfamilies' with one or more homosexualsor Lesbians would surely have aneasier and more amiable adjustment leadingto higher individual and social productivity.
No doubt such a millennium is a long wayoff, if it ever comes to pass. But if thismagazine and the people it represents canserve to move us all closer to an understandingof the Lesbian by the largerportion of people who willingly or unwittinglyerect barriers to her right to live,then to all of you in DOB, I salute you!
Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright by Jane Alden
A little over six months ago, we, that iswe, the employees of the U.S. Embassy inParaguay, hired a cashier for the tiny PXwe've been running in the roach-riddenbasement of our chancery. This new employeewas so stunningly beautiful, as thecliché goes, that you'd have taken her foran ex-movie star just beginning to put onweight: really gorgeous, and everything ingiant-size, like a billboard Coke ad. Shereminded us of an overgrown Betty Grable:huge blue eyes; miles of blonde hair piledinto a somewhat sloppy beehive; perfectlegs measuring at least two yards to thethigh. And no wedding ring.
Because the PX was mostly stocked withnauseating snack materials and exoticliqueurs, I seldom bothered to shop there.
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But now I began haunting the place. Justwatching this Amazon tapping away at thecash register keys was a delight. She'd jokea little while adding my purchases; and hersoft, husky voice would echo in my ears therest of the day.
Shortly after her arrival, I began to havevivid, always-the-same dreams. In them, thisbig, voluptuous blonde would charge intomy apartment and pounce on me like atiger in heat. We would go down on thefloor together, growling and purring, "consumedwith passion," as the saying goes.Sometimes I'd wake myself up bellowing,"Leslie, Leslie!"
I couldn't find anyone around the Embassywho knew any more about her thanthat her first name was Leslie. It was rumoredthat she'd come to Paraguay from SanFrancisco to study Spanish, but no onereally knew why. Just when I'd bracedmyself to defy protocol and invite her tomy apartment for dinner, Leslie disappeared.
I thought at first she must have been onsick leave, but she simply never came backto the PX. Her replacement, a baggy wife ofone of the Embassy officers, remarked thatshe'd heard Leslie had been fired for "irregularities";but I was afraid to delve toodeeply into the matter for fear of callingattention to my "unnatural" interest in her.Embassies thrive on gossip, especially aboutunmarried females who appear to preferthat state to the more conventional joys ofhusbands and children.
Between my daily work in the file roomand my reading of Henry Miller at night, I'dalmost stopped thinking about Leslie andhaving my Tiger Dreams. Then, three weeksafter her disappearance, she telephoned me.She told me she was in trouble butwouldn't discuss it over the Embassy telephone,which we were both convinced wastapped. We arranged to have dinner togetherto talk over her problem. For therest of the day, my hands were clammy.
Waiting for her at the restaurant, myheart beat so fast I began to worry aboutcongenital heart failure. The mystery;woman finally stalked into the dining roomwearing a magnificent white leather coatwith fox collar. I seated her at our tablewith more pride than I'd felt in years. Shelooked superb, and all the males--andfemales--stopped their eating and stared ather. That's just the effect she had.
After our second round of martinis,Leslie revealed that a group of auditors
hired by the Embassy had uncoveredfraudulent cash register tapes and had accusedher of stealing several hundred dollars'worth of merchandise. The SecurityOfficer, Pat Doyle, had taken her passportas bond until the PX investigation wascomplete. Until her innocence was established,she could neither get another job norleave Paraguay. She called Pat names Ihadn't heard before or even read in Tropicof Capricorn. I didn't much care for Patmyself, but that's another story.
At two A.M., I hailed a taxi. Leslie blewme a kiss, and I repeated my promise to seePat about her problem as soon as I got towork.
Promptly at nine next morning, I paid acall on Pat. During my impassioned defenseof civil liberties in general and of Leslie inparticular, he cleaned his nails with a letteropener. Then he handed me her folder.Aside from the usual statistical information,I learned she was 46 years old. I wasthinking how well-preserved she was andtrying to memorize her home address whenDoyle broke in.
"As you see, this gal's a mess. Divorcedfour times and now living with a Peruvianexiled guitar player, no less."
"You mean exiled Peruvian guitarplayer," I snickered dismally. My handswere perspiring so badly that the ink startedto smudge Leslie's report. I glanced at anauditor's notarized statement concerningthe PX thefts and then came to a handwrittenconfession signed by one LeslieChaves de Valle de Jones de Zarate, admittingshe'd stolen $340 in goods from thePX while working as cashier. I was stunnedas much by her audacity as a thief as by hermarital history. How did Jones get in there?
"How'd you squeeze this bogus confessionfrom Mrs. Zarate--with a rubberhose?"
His pop-eyes peered into mine unblinkingly.
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"Come off it, jane. Got aninterest in her or something?"
My blush belied my words. "Of coursenot. Ridiculous. Me? Couldn't care less forwomen, let alone such a--uh--criminal. Ijust hate to see the Embassy gang up onher. Isn't she a human being?"
"You got me there, kiddo."
Had I been infinitely braver, I wouldhave slapped him. As it was, I had to settlefor a more womanly measure to saveLeslie's honor at the Embassy, pulling aballpoint pen and a check book from mypurse. I wrote a check for $340 in anone-too-steady hand.
Doyle started to argue, but he must havenoticed something in my manner thatstopped him short. He took my check as ifit were contaminated.
"Well, thanks, anyway, for clearing upthe PX problem. Would have meant piles ofpaper work. Might as well take her thepassport, my dear. If that's what you'reafter. And I sincerely hope that's all you'reafter."
I snatched Leslie's passport and ranfrom the menace of Doyle's look as if I'dbeen stabbed. And the more I thoughtabout how truly criminal Leslie was, themore I worried that my perceptive SecurityOfficer would label me guilty of misconduct,either by association with her orbecause I had simply one emotion he couldnot tolerate: I loved her. For this, I wouldbe sent back to Washington in abjectdisgrace, my clearances revoked, bannedfrom government service for life. Mystomach began to gurgle with an incipientulcer, and one of my migraine headachesslithered into the tiniest wrinkles of mybrain to stab and burn. I finished the rest ofthe week in bed--heating pad on feveredbrow, one might say.
Leslie called me a few Mondays later,asking about her passport. Oblivious totelephone tappers, I informed her that shecould pick up her precious document at myapartment. She was silent for a moment,but didn't beg off or protest. I guess shefigured that a deal was a deal. Perhaps shewas proud of being able to barter her favorsat $340 in spite of her age. I ended ourconversation before she could reconsider.
Leslie trudged into my apartment a littleafter eleven, looking like Betty GrableStruck By Lightning. Her eyes were glassy,her nose red, and I could smell cognac onher breath. Embassy cognac, no doubt. Isolemnly handed her the passport, whichshe crammed into her purse without comment.Then with absolutely no pretext ofenthusiasm, she unbuttoned her blouseright there in the front room. I suggestedwe survey my bedroom and guided her inthat direction, but she veered into thebathroom for an aspirin and some mentholatum.
When she emerged, I was in bed,hunched over on one side to give her roomto climb in. My God, what a big BettyGrable she was! The bed frame trembledwhen she lay down, and I tumbled againsther warm side like a toy doll. In seconds,she started snoring husky, sonorous snoresthat reminded me of an asthmatic bulldogI'd once had the misfortune of owning. Iprodded her awake and began to caress herfull breasts, but her sigh of forlorn enduranceutterly froze me.
"Got a cold, honey," she murmured.Then I felt like a pygmy trying tomount an indifferent and indisposed elephant.When she started snoring again, Iquit.
I am a quiet sleeper and am unused tosharing my bed with anyone, least of allwith a snoring hulk of cold germs, so Isavagely pinched her awake and ordered herfrom my apartment. Ordered, mind you.She heaved herself out, presumably dressed,and finally slammed the door, behind her asshe departed amid a stream of SouthernGothic oaths.
Almost as soon as the door shut, I fellasleep in a haze of cognac and mentholatum.Then the Tiger Dream returned.A bright, beautiful Leslie bolted into myapartment with a feline gleam in her eye,growled, and pounced upon me as of old. Ijoyously grappled with her, and our animalpassion was so mutually overwhelming thatwe sank to the floor intertwined, panting ina fury of synchronized lust.
Then my alarm clock went off.
(Jane Alden writes that she graduatedfrom the University ofMaryland in 1958. Sought fame andfortune as Assistant Editor, Children'sBooks, New York publishing.house. Soon loathed children'sbooks. Discovered that Uncle Sam isa Big Spender. Has been wastingtaxpayers' money ever since. Spenttwo years in Lisbon and four yearsaround South America. Recently returnedto Washington, D.C. Nextpost: Laos?)
[p. 47] | [Page Image]
MEMBERSHIP in the Daughters of Bilitis is limited to women 21 years of age orolder. Write to your nearest chapter.
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CONTRIBUTIONS are gratefully accepted from anyone who wants to supportour work. We are a non-profit corporation depending entirely on volunteerlabor. While men may not become members of Daughters of Bilitis, manyhave expressed interest in our efforts and have made contributions to furtherour work.
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[p. [48]] | [Page Image]
THE LESBIAN
IN LITERATURE
a bibliography
By Gene Damon and Lee Stuart
AN ALPHABETICAL LISTING BY AUTHOR OF ALL KNOWN BOOKSIN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, IN THE GENERAL FIELD OF LITERATURE,CONCERNED WITH LESBIANISM, OR HAVING LESBIANCHARACTERS.
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A thousand adult readers regularly receive THE LADDER, a magazinecirculated throughout this country featuring news and views of the homosexualand the homophile movement of particular interest to women.
Most of our readers are women 21-45 years old who have devoted a majorportion of their leisure time to assisting the" Lesbian to become a moreproductive, secure citizen. Most of our readers believe that discriminationagainst the homosexual is unfair and unjustified. To these readers youradvertisement places you on record as an ally in their personal area of deepconcern. Our readers are apt to become and remain loyal customers. Charges forsingle insertions of advertisement copy are given below.
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The Ladder, June-July 1970, Vol. 14, No. 9 and 10
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[p. 2] | [Page Image]
ONCE MORE WITH FEELING
I have discovered my most unpleasant task as editor ... having to remind younow and again of your duty as concerned reader. Not just reader, concernedreader.
If you aren't--you ought to be.
Those of you who have been around three or more years of our fifteen yearsknow the strides DOB has made and the effort we are making to improve thismagazine. To continue growing as an organization we need more women, womenaware they are women as well as Lesbians. If you have shy friends who might beinterested in DOB but who are, for real or imagined reasons, afraid to join us--write to me. I will send you a sample copy of THE LADDER, a copy of WHATIS DOB?, and a copy of the article, "Your Name Is Safe", which shows why NOONE at any time in any way is ever jeopardized by belonging to DOB or bysubscribing to THE LADDER. You can send this to your friend(s) and thus,almost surely bring more people to help in the battle.
And for you new people, our new subscribers and members in newly formed andforming chapters, have you a talent we can use in THE LADDER? We needwriters always in all areas, fiction, non-fiction, biography, poetry. We needphotographers and artists, and CARTOONISTS. We need you--in any way youcan help.
For you whose time and talents will not allow you any other way to help, sendus money ... every dollar helps. We don't like to ask, but as many of youknow, if we did not beg, there would be no magazine. So, once more withfeeling, we ask you to help us in our mutual fight for our rights.
Gene Damon
A thousand adult readers regularly receive THE LADDER, a magazine,circulated throughout this country featuring news and views of the homosexualand the homophile movement of particular interest to women.
Most of our readers are women 21-45 years old who have devoted a majorportion of their leisure time to assisting the Lesbian to become a moreproductive, secure citizen. Most of our readers believe that discriminationagainst the homosexual is unfair and unjustified. To these readers youradvertisement places you on record as an ally in their personal area of deepconcern. Our readers are apt to become and remain loyal customers. Charges forsingle insertions of advertisement copy are given below.
Please mail your advertising copy and check in full to:
THE LADDER
P.O. Box 5025--Washington Station
Reno, Nevada 89503
ADVERTISING RATES
Half Page | $45 |
Quarter Page | $25 |
Inside Cover | $100 |
Full Page | $80 |
Repeated advertisements at reduced rates.
[p. 3] | [Page Image]
Published bi-monthly by the Daughters ofBilitis, Inc., a non-profit corporation, atP.O. Box 5025, Washington Station,Reno, Nevada 89503.
NATIONAL OFFICERS, DAUGHTERS OF BILITIS, INC.
President | Rita Laporte |
Vice President, West | Jess K. Lane |
Chapter Presidents are also included on The Board
THE LADDER STAFF
Editor | Gene Damon |
Production Assistants | Lyn Collins, Kim Stabinski, King Kelly, Ann Brady |
Production Editors | Robin and Dana Jordan |
Secretary to the Editor | Tracy Wright |
THE LADDER is regarded as a sounding board for various points of view on thehomophile and related subjects, and does not necessarily reflect the opinion ofthe organization except such opinions as are specifically acknowledged by theorganization.
June/July 1970
IN THIS ISSUE:
Poetry by Gabrielle L'Autre | |
In the Air Milk Rain short story by Lynn Lonidier | |
This is Not For You review of Jane Rule's book by Isabel Miller | |
Western Homophile Conference Keynote Address by Henry (Harry) Hay | |
Confessions of a Pseudo Male Chauvinist by Martha Shelley | |
Bennett short story by Leanne Bosworth | |
We Need This Now by Lorita J. Whitehead | |
Nine Poems by Elsa Gidlow | |
Ladies, Cowardice Does Not Become You by Lennox Strong | |
The Best Women Are Thin and Rich A Guest Editorial | |
Say It Isn't So by Rita Mae Brown | |
Poetry by Carol Lynk, Susan Smpadian, and Marion G. Norman | |
Cross Currents | |
Readers Respond |
COVER photo and photo on page 11 (JANE RULE), by Photographer LynnVardeman.
Copyright 1970 by Daughters of Bilitis, Inc., San Francisco, California
[p. 4] | [Page Image]
Poetry
by
Gabrielle
L'Autre
EXPLANATION
Oh, yes, you stay quiet,
Keep properly to your side,
Contain your arms and legs.
There is room enough in the bed
For a gaping chasm between us.Must you breathe?
I hang stubbornly to my ledge of precipice.
Your soft, soft breathing
Wafts towards me,
Impersonal as a stray breeze,
Caressing my face.
You stir ever so slightly.
The covers move,
Grazing my bare arm,
Sliding along my hip.So there is no contact
And yet there is.
Unless I arise and go,
Breaking the invisible strands
That pull me towards you,
I know that I shall glide your way,
Nulling the void that separates us,
That I shall take you in my arms
And startle you to wakefulness
With a ferocious want
You cannot or you will not or you dare
not share,GABRIELLE L'AUTRE
PORTRAIT OF A LADY AS A CAMPSITE
I, too, would creep to your warmth,
Tent under your hair,
Invade your mouth,
Explore your apertures;
But these men and men have done.Let them bivouac on your surface slopes,
Light signal fires across your plains,
Burrow into your trenches!I want more:
To tap your inner sources,
To swim in your arterial rivers,
To breast the tides of your thought,
To swirl in the currents of your moods,
To steep in the waters of your hidden depths
Till I take tone of your inner color,
Shape of your lost caverns,
Cadence of your secret rhythms.In short,
I want to love you.GABRIELLE L'AUTRE
THE OUTSIDER
I saw desire rise in his eyes,
Ignited by the sight of her olive skin
Vivid against the stark white of her dress.
Raising the blonde child in her arms
Above her head, she whirled slowly,
Laughing, preoccupied with the child.
His wife, his son.
His desire
For the body he had intimately possessed
And smugly knew he would have again.Oh, I must beat mine down,
The desire whelming from my depths.
My desire
That must not be,
That swims in my envious eyes,
That neither of them must see.GABRIELLE L'AUTRE
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In the Air Milk Rain
By LYNN LONIDIER
A friend of mine learned he had cancer.
I went to emergency. The nurse had toask me where it was, it was so small. Thedoctor said scar tissue--foreign matterfrom a vaccination which had built up.
It grew larger. My friend got worse. Thecancer spread.
I returned to the hospital. The doctorfelt of it and said cyst.
Was it?
Probably.
Twice I the appointment whileimagining it was getting larger.
My friend was taken away in a wheelchair. He had a hood over his head. He wasthirty-three years old.
I felt the bump on my arm. Was itpossible I had contracted cancer from myfriend? We used the same bathroom and atefrom the same plates.
I kept the third appointment.
The nurse stepped out of the room. Igot the hospital smock on and peered at theremarks on the hospital chart.
I have heard of people avoiding going tothe doctor when they had a mysteriousbump on their bodies, and the bump provedfatal.
I lay on my stomach. Two interns cameto watch--one, a young man with a shavedhead; one, a woman. Both felt of my armbeforehand. I glimpsed at the woman. Ithought of her while the needle was in myarm. I thought of her as I felt a surgicalimplement probe my leaden arm. Thiswoman asked me where I had gotten mythird right finger gold ring.
Found it.
Where?
In the ground.
Jeanne was holding Carol's arm outstretchedCarol's hand was lightly touchingJeanne's breast
Now the needle was out of the arm andJeanne was standing very close to CarolCarol tried to imagine Jeanne as severe inappearance but Jeanne's looks made itimpossible to do so Carol rememberedreading somewhere that women doctorspossessed more masculine traits than anyother group of women but Jeanne's darkhair though closely cut held softly to herhead she wore large earrings and she had ona ring that resembled an engagement ringbut it was on the fourth finger of her righthand Carol wondered if perhaps some functionof the left hand by M.D.'s madedoctors prefer the right hand for their ringsthe diamond was set higher on the ring thanCarol recalled seeing in engagement sets
Jeanne joked to the receptionist about notoperating on Carol (most cases in dermatologyinvolve slow close examination ormynah surgery) how flushed Jeanne becameat causing laughter her neck then her cheeksthen, upward to her hairline Carol wonderedhow Jeanne would react to intensificationof some woman loving her
Jeanne told Carol come in two morningslater they agreed on 8:00 Jeanne said whatwe look for is a rising in the skin area or abruising what we do is measure it
While she sat in a college class Carolwondered who was Jeanne's lover
Carol may have dreamed about Jeanne
All she really knew was what she wantedJeanne to be like
Maybe all this was just a dwelling on doctorinstead of diagnosis
Carol feared the skin test might read positive
Two mornings later she will look at my armnotate negative and that will he all why amI making so much out of this yes Carol hadgone there with some suspicion of illnesswithin her she had wanted a skin testinstead of an X ray because she fearedradiation so much radiation was already inthe air in the milk in the rain
Carol's heart was racing ahead to themoment she would be in the office withJeanne would Jeanne remember to come inas early as 8:00 either way was no indicationof Jeanne's awareness of Carol's feelingsfor her perhaps Jeanne wouldn't comeperhaps she didn't feel comfortable enoughto be alone with a girl that breathed fasterwith her near perhaps Jeanne had arranged
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for another doctor to do the reading perhapsher boy friend the man with theshaved head
The clinic was open Jeanne was thereJeanne told Carol bring your purse withyou it isn't safe to leave it around youknow (undertone) the receptionist can't betrusted
Jeanne's remark showed the receptionistand Carol laughing and Jeanne turning red
Jeanne led Carol into an office Jeanneresumed the position of holding Carol's armoutstretched the hand was again heldagainst the cloth of Jeanne's breast Jeannefelt of the spot where the needle had gonein there was no color or raising whileJeanne was doing this Carol moved herhand over the curve of Jeanne's smockthere was electrical contact between theireyes it came and went so fast neither wassure it wasn't of protest neither couldbelieve Carol's hand had sought and Jeannehad not moved away Carol's voice nudgedJeanne and her eyes covered her over
Jeanne looked at Carol's face a face sointent on touch and reaction to touch andit was surrounded by long blond hair youhave the urge to separate feel the finenessof then stroke then watch it fall into placeagain when Jeanne heard the sound thelonging it made her further not move for ifshe moved how could she have heardanother wanting her
A blush started at Jeanne's dress collar andwent upward to her hair
Carol imagined it moving across Jeanne'sbreasts also
How close they were standing Jeanne noticedhow the girl's presence seemed to havegotten larger as she was looking at herJeanne broke from Carol moved as far awayas she could Carol's head did not turndownward but her hair seemed to wilt
Don't tell
Jeanne held onto the table behind her shewas breathing hard she was waiting to calmshe recognized she had wanted this closenesswith the girl she had been reluctant tostop she wouldn't betray the girl she didn'tfeel threatened by Carol so much as she did
by her own slowness to move away fromCarol this frightened her she felt hysteriaand couldn't stop the red from forming underher skin it increased it was profuse
God
Perhaps the girl would betray her she woulddeny it but how could she protect herselffrom the transparency of her own feelings
Uh the test shows negative do you want iton paper
Carol nodded and made appreciation in her eyesthat the woman was not going to callin anyone Carol wanted to disappear underthe sky
Jeanne handed Carol a scribbled note andrefrained from looking at her maybe Carolhad never done anything sexual with awoman before and was as lost from it
When Carol was fifteen there had been a girlin one of her classes who--------
Slowly their eyes told each other abouteach other this was followed by what is itlike to kiss when they were alone at one orthe other of their homes they kissed
The narrowness of the townspeople keptthem from sniffing out and condemningtwo girls who went together did everythingtogether and held to each other inside eachother's empty house but the same peoplefear what they do not know they are alwayson the verge of passing from ignorance tointolerance suspicion always did exist
Carol and her love were coverted by people'snaive overestimation of the naivety oftwo girls
But Carol had had punitive upbringing shesought praise did well in school but throughlove she had gained guilt
She left her parents left her town left loveand in college did not know what shewanted there she turned to therapy
In a little office she learned that retributiondoes not have to go hand in hand withfeelings that it was all right to love a womanif she wanted
Carol expressed love for her therapist (by
[p. 7] | [Page Image]
telling her) and overheard her tell the officesecretary keep your ears open if you hearme holler come running (laughter) a ridicule-ladeninference that the therapist wasnot safe when alone with Carol
The therapist entered where her desk waswhere Carol waited where confidential matterswere supposedly kept Carol did notreveal that she had overheard the therapisthad seemed so accepting so understandingpeople fall in love with anyone who seemscaring of their thoughts
Carol still loved the therapist though shenever went back
Carol and Jeanne did not make a partingremark the receptionist had engaged Jeannein the next patient to be seen
Carol did not dwell on the encounter itfrustrated her that she had to avoid seeingthe woman again Christ how she wished sheknew her name maybe after Carol left thewoman had told someone what had happenedmaybe the doctors and nurses hadhad a big laugh about it it would be along-standing joke with them Jeanne wouldturn red making her vulnerability to themen doctors more appealing
Breath
Jeanne saw many patients that day she wascareful with each one but late afternoon shedeveloped such a headache she could not goto med seminar the redness had seemed tolinger
Before she went to the resident hall andafter the nurses left she went through theoffice files for Carol's name
Jeanne copied name address and notedCarol's birthday
Twenty
She herself was twenty-nine Carol a girlherself a woman
She noted in the remarks that in the pastCarol had had anxiety reactions to illnessCarol was the sort of person that every yearor so needed reassurance she had notcontracted some fatal disease what sheneeded was a love to sustain her from deaththis was not in the records but Jeannerecognized the malady it takes a veryspecial person to eradicate another's awarenessof death and since she herself handledmany fatal cases she had to be wary ofabsorption in malignancies
They were waiting for the swelling to godown from the anesthesia. They could nolonger tell where the growth was because itwas within the swelling.
In clinical language, the resident and theinterns tried to diagnose what the bumpmight be before they removed it. Each hada different theory. They agreed it was deep.We'll take such-and-such incision.
Here?
No... Here.
How could they be so casual about notbeing certain where it was.
During the course of the operation, Iexpressed my viewpoint on the war. Thelady intern informed me the man operatingon my arm had served in the armed forcesas an M.D.
There was joking amongst the residentand the interns--doctor and patientdissented over the war (the advantage hehad over me)--he had not sewn me up,yet!
There was discussion of their weekend.
They encountered so many people andso much death, they could be casual in thepresence of someone who had cancer.
Even after the growth was removed, thedoctor could not say it was not cancer. Heheld up a bottle containing what he hadremoved--tissue that resembled, filter-tipfiber disseminated by the liquid it was in, apimplish core centered within. Repulsive,yet, not to be let go of.
The resident took a long time doing thestitches. I heard him say to the interns I wasyoung; it was important I not have scardisfigurement.
Why should I be attractive. Statisticswere half of all the men would be maimedor never come back. But I didn't dare bevocal on the war while the doctor wassewing me up.
I wasn't certain he really was careful. Hemight want to get even with me--his, acontradictory existence.
And I was going to have to wait a weekfor the diagnosis.
But I might not live that long.
I decided I would ask for a TB skin test.I was applying for a job which required one.
[p. 8] | [Page Image]
I might have TB. I have sputum in mythroat, which has continued to thrive forthree, four years. I never tried to get rid ofit. I have a cat and a dog, and I have beentold doctors won't treat throat infections ofowners of fur-bearing animals.
Jeanne had been in the city for over threeyears without having found a steady loveror mate often she thought it could notcontinue much longer I will find someonein the next month or two then she realizeda year had passed since she started thinkingthe thought and two years and Jeanne wasin the midst of men perhaps her failure(that is how she thought of it) to find aman resulted from the franticness of thehours kept by interns and M.D.'s herselfand those who dated her how many dayshad, she only gotten an hour or two of sleep
The times Jeanne was on a date were alwaystightly wound almost desperate she didn'thave much contact with men in otherprofessions they might not understand howwork kept her yet she had read somewherethat most women doctors married men inother fields
She had come into contact with a lot ofmen dying
Perhaps she made excuses for herself whenit came to finding a man
Charles was less assertive in his love-makingthan she with him she found herself holdingback her thoughts and her gestures andassuming a role of naivety whatever thenight required to make him feel everythingwas the way it should be she in turn feltimpatient angry and developed headaches
Carl too had suffered a relationship withher he began to harbor competitivenesstoward Jeanne when they were involved inclinical diagnosis the resident physicianfinally had to transfer him to another floorbecause he began to make up diagnoses torefute Jeanne's and insist on their accuracywhen results from the lab proved otherwisethe chief resident had called them both inand told them point-blank he must separatethem
Jeanne's last date was with a man she couldnot help but equate with money Al tookher places showed her a good time and yetshe could not even feel as much for him asfor a friend she had her roommate say shewas not in the last time he phoned howeveras the weekend wore on she found herselftraipsing downtown with a group of nurseswho wound up their evening at a movieJeanne wishing she had not declined himnot caring for Al but being with him wouldbe better than wallowing in all that timeand dwelling on the complaints of herpatients until she felt possessed of malignancy
Jeanne knew what it was like to have abump that appeared on her body be fatalshe had felt herself consumed by theslow-moving fury of the power of certaincells over others only to come out of herdread on Monday when she again confrontedso many patients she had no timeto dwell on her death
Breath
Early evening two or three weeks from thetime Jeanne and Carol had been drawntoward liaison Jeanne faced Carol in adoorway
Jeanne (the name Carol had given her)Jeanne's face was flushed as if she had justcaused laughter by something she'd said
They stood inside the room and looked ateach other
Why did you
I had to see you
Jeanne's face was burning in the dark Carolhadn't turned the light on
They were standing they looked at eachother and saw near
You won't tell
Trust
All of a sudden they took hold of eachother as two people might who hadn't seeneach other for years like strangers rememberingthey had once been lovers
And the two women mouthed each othertheir flesh wanting out of their clothing
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Kiss me
I will I will here
Kiss me
On your breast
Yes ooh love me
I will I will here
Breath
They were on top of the bed
Jeanne lay on her back her arms and legsoutstretched
Carol was over her centering over the edgesof Jeanne's breasts
Both caught a glimpse of something theyhad seen moving in water
Carefully carefully Jeanne lifted Carol'sfinger in between her legs in through thehairs into the wet Carol moved her finger inand out and knew what the woman was likeinside and almost fainted upon the sound ofwoman-sounds
Faster the room went
In the middle of making love Carol stopped
Do you love me
I don't know you but I love you
Because darkness was around them Carolcould not see if Jeanne was embarrassed orMushed but she guess it
Why do you always turn so red
Ask me that and that's enough to make medo it that's the way I am my blood is nearmy surface do I feel hot
You are hot sexy hot
Well continue please
Doing what
They smiled knowing what was to be done
The woman intern came into the room.She removed the stitches. She gave me askin test. She did blush easily and hold myarm in such a way that my hand touchedthat part of her dress which contained herbreasts.
Breath
I'd rather have a woman who treatsm'good, 'n a man who treats m'bad.
In books the penis is everything the biggerthe better in one of Faulkner's books a manuses a corncob to do it with because it islarger
Might as well use the handle of a hammer
The two women knew better of the implement
Jeanne had wondered when a man was inher what was the matter that she didn't feelit more Carl had wanted it in right awayand Charles did not know how to get it inand no matter how big she couldn't feel itonce it was in the harder they did it themore insensitive to it she became
Al she could not let enter her
(How close you feel to the one above ishow much you will feel)
As soon as Carol put her finger in Jeanneturning her own delicious body onto thewoman a rush of heat came
Carol's hair came down into Jeanne's thebrown and the yellow mixed together madea most deep rich color Jeanne had Carol'stongue in her mouth through it Carol waslost to all but to ANIMALS! BREASTS!coming over her great wreaths of hair loveliness
Jeanne was on fire blazing and Indian shewent down to the dance of Carol's heart allaround
When one was too tired the other would
Jeanne tilted her thigh upward and Carolspread her legs over it so the TWOTOUCHED so that the rivers moving betweenthem fitted together
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They could go on like that and sometimesdid 'til morning brought them 'round
They turned a light on smoked cigarettesand gazed at each other's moonflesh andCarol said who gave you the ring of the ringon Jeanne's finger
My parents did for graduation
Carol then saw a drop of blood replace thesetting there it was as plain as though it hadalways been there Carol didn't say anythingshe didn't want to alarm Jeanne she tried tokiss it off but it stayed it was like a pinprick it was round and perfect and irremovable
Father and Mother both had had cancer.It tends to run in families.
Some doctors and psychiatrists maintainthat at people who are overly-busy, overly-conscientious,drive themselves hard, andare nervous, are prone toward cancer.
Do they care for you
My father's dead I write to my mother everytwo or three weeks
Strange that Jeanne's ring had acquired ared jewel and she really hadn't answered
Jeanne's parents in giving the ring to herhad wired it to her conscience so it gave offblood (a peculiarity of her family lineage)whenever she strayed from their ways
It was a case of mistaken diagnosis the laboratoryhad gotten Jeanne's and Carol'scharts mixed it was Jeanne who had diseaseand Carol who went free to bemoan the lossof the woman clear passed the grave
As though the bed were a pyre amongst allthe heat of love and neither woman had aremedy for fire is the color of guilt throughall centuries it has been so in The ScarletLetter a remnant of conscience the mark onthe adultress's forehead stayed on
When Jeanne left Carol the ring turnedfrom ruby to diamond
I cannot live with someone who cannot livewith herself the red color of the ring cameand went Carol waited awhile then leftJeanne
So Jeanne lay there and died (mortificationit used to be called) and Carol could not dowithout her
Carol regarded Jeanne's outstretched formas that of the Saviour as all lovers are toeach other and that implied a certainamount of death but in the morning Jeannehad to be alert to the line of patients waitingwhen she arrived with clothes on in thedermatology department of the impersonalhospital
I like to feel the bump I like to play with itooh are you sure you won't let me removeit I simply can't leave it alone it's so cute
I'm sure Silly
Meany
Breath
Carol knew now that they would both livebecause they loved each other and couldlaugh about it without the burning starting
Love made death clear up and go away
Carol moved Jeanne's hand from the tinylump in her flesh to between her breastsJeanne's hand curved into the softness andstayed when they were asleep both hadtheir hands on each other's breasts and if ahand slid off that was enough to awakenand once more grasp the security of roundness
How good to live
The woman in my story died only becauseI wanted to at the time my frienddied. I was feeling illness all around, and Iknew too much. I knew it was years experiencingintense love feelings for women--coupled with my father's-, mother's-, andfriend's failing--that caused the bump tocome. People can cause cancer to comeonto their bodies. A change in cell growthoccurs when too much unhappiness buildsup in the system. It is a way of passing
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sentence on oneself. Cancer as self-imposeddeath.
Both women were in myself; aspects ofmyself in both women.
One died and one lived.
Actually, the growth proved non-malignant;the skin test proved negative. I washealthy. The scar on my arm is only slightlyvisible to look at.
I want Jeanne and Carol to continue tolove one another for many years. It's possible--love above death.
Since these visits to the hospital, I haveseen the woman intern driving a car in alane of traffic opposite mine. I don't thinkshe saw me. If she had, she probablywouldn't recognize me from that day in theoffice until now.
(Lynn Lonidier writes that she is toomuch involved with her work to bemuch of anything but its reflection.She lives in Southern California in a"tropical paradise" and admits to variedtastes including unusual foods.Her poetry, and articles pertaining topoetry, have appeared in many periodicalsincluding TRACE, EVERGREENREVIEW, MASSACHUSETTSREVIEW, San FranciscoREVIEW, THE HUMANIST,FORUM, etc., and in THE LIVINGUNDERGROUND; AN ANTHOLOGYOF CONTEMPORARYAMERICAN POETRY. A collectionof her work, PO TREE, was publishedin 1967 by the Berkeley FreePress.)
This is not for you
By JANE RULE
N.Y., McCall's 1970
Reviewed by Isabel Miller
Good news--our lovely bright JaneRule has published another novel. It's a letterto a girl named Esther, who is now anun and will never read it. I don't thinkanything would be eased for Esther, orcleared up, if she did read it, but she mightenjoy it; it's dazzling.
Kate (the narrator) and Esther meet asstudents at a women's college. They're rich,intelligent, serious, philosophical, poetic.They're in love with each other but Katewon't let anything happen. She has no reluctanceabout making love to other girls--just Esther. An open lesbian named Sandytakes an interest in Esther, but Kate keepsthem apart, thinking, "You are not tospend yourself on a Sandra Mentchen. Ihaven't saved you from myself for that."
Kate and Esther travel in Europe. Katepicks up two men, Andrew and Peter, andthe four of them then travel together.Esther doesn't especially like Andrew andPeter or like travelling with them. Kate goesback to England, leaving Esther with themen. Andrew wants to talk with Kate, butshe's very closed and can't. He asks, "Whydo you always run away?" "To keep fromhurting people who aren't bright enough toprotect themselves," Kate says.
Kate and Sandy have a little fling--once only, Kate's favorite way. Sandy asks
caption
Kate why she doesn't just go ahead andmake love to Esther. Kate says, "It's justnot her world, not her sort of thing."Esther's opinion is never asked.
Esther asks Kate why Kate doesn't wanther. "Because I don't want to want you. It'sas simple as that," Kate says.
There's a party. Esther says, "Absolutelyeverybody's kissed me tonight but you."Kate says, "Then it's probably time to gohome."
Kate says, "It's time you met somemen." (Esther is surrounded by men, butthey're all homosexual so they don't
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count.) Esther says, "All right, Kate."
They finish school, go to England.Esther obediently meets a creep namedJohn, who, Kate says, "sounds like a PenguinClassic." Kate is "jealous and hurt andfrightened," but doesn't tell Esther so.
There's a Christmas houseparty. Estherkisses Kate's hand. Kate tucks Esther intobed and lies awake for a long time--wonderingwhether mother will go to the ChristmasEve services!
Mother has a stroke. Kate goes back toAmerica to be with her. Esther, later, comestoo. They play chess a lot, have talks aboutphilosophy and religion. Kate's "mind andbody ached with obscenities of their own."What to do but kick Esther out? As she'sleaving, Esther says, "You do love me--you do want me. Or you would have let mecome to you years ago." "No," Kate says.
Esther lives for a year with a lout namedChristopher. Kate sleeps one night with thenight nurse, name of Mac. I like Mac, butKate doesn't.
Kate and Esther go to Los Angeles tovisit Sandy, who's a concert pianist andcheerfully mated to a girl. Esther, who isattracted to Sandy's girl, says, "Kate onlyallows me to sleep with men." Sandy saysto Kate, "You're the most indecent prudeI've ever known." That rolls right off Kate.She knows she's being fine and noble.
Esther takes up with a junkie/pusher/thief named Charlie. ("At least he's nothomosexual," Sandy says.) Kate mindsabout Charlie. She says, "His whore and hismate. His slave and his keeper." "And Iwould have been that for you," Esther says.Kate touches her hand and leaves for Washington."For one of my nervous, negativemorality, risking failure is less terrifyingthan risking success. I could more easilyhave died for you than lived with you."
In Washington she works hard, has noclearance problems, reads reports at night.Even Esther's mother reproaches her fornot loving Esther, who has been arrested forpossession of Charlie's marijuana. Instead ofhelping Esther get out of jail, Kate sleepswith the boss, a married lady named Joyce.I liked Joyce, but Kate didn't much. "I wasglad of her, grateful for her, as I'm sure Icouldn't have been if I had really, lovedJoyce as I loved you ... I couldn't beguilty of you. I hadn't that kind of courage."Joyce says, "You're an absolutelystandard type, you know--the crudeprude." It rolls right off Kate.
Esther's rich mother buys Esther off thegrass rap. Esther travels, sending postcardswithout return addresses. She gets engagedto a very uptight doctor named John. Onthe wedding day, Esther and Kate kiss, being"careful of each other's makeup."Esther goes off to be married, saying, "Thisis how it should be. This is how you toldme to do it."
Kate, now twenty-six, goes to Greece towork for a relief agency; she wants to savethe world. She falls in love at first sightwith her boss, name of Grace, crowding sixty.After a long time, Grace, once, takesKate to bed. I guess Kate likes it--shedoesn't say. Grace says, "I have never beenin love, except with my work." Nothingabout Kate changes that.
Esther gets a divorce and contemplatesentering a nunnery--an enclosed order.Kate goes to see her. "I would miss you,"Kate says, but doesn't look at her. Estherenters the nunnery anyway. Now Kate iswriting this letter which is not to be sentand feeling, I guess, generally pleased athow self-disciplined she's been. She's partIndian--maybe that's why she's so contemptuousof pain.
Why does Kate sleep with only womenshe cares nothing for or who care nothingfor her? Why does she "protect" Esther--poor sweet vulnerable needful Esther--from herself and Sandy, but not from allthose appalling men? In short, why does shedespise lesbianism? Damned if I know.
Does Jane Rule know? I think if she didshe would have said. She writes so wonderfully.If she'd write Establishment, she'd beone of the Titans. She can say what shewants to say, and there's room for everythingin the wonderful loose free shopping-bagform she chose. It can go from narrationto scenes and back again without ascratch, and leap across years or make pagesof a minute, just as Jane pleases; I feel safein saying she doesn't know.
But she doesn't need to. Suffice it thatshe's observed correctly and written everythingdown and given us this tragic admonitorytale of what happens when you makemoral decisions for other people withoutconsulting them, when you despise love,when your emotions are inaccessible toyou, when you're closed and cold and self-righteousand condescending--whenyou're a prude: you drive your girl to sickmen and drugs and doomed marriages and.divorce. You make a nunnery look warmand yummy.
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(Jane Rule lives and works in Vancouver,British Columbia. Her firstnovel, DESERT OF THE HEART,appeared in the United States in1965. Her short stories have beenpublished in magazines in Canadaand the United States. She has oftencontributed stories to THELADDER. Her next novel,AGAINST THE SEASON, will bepublished by McCall's in 1971. ChapterTwo of AGAINST THE SEASONappeared in the October /November,1969 issue of THE LADDER.)
(Reviewer Isabel Miller is the authorof the popular Lesbian novel, APLACE FOR US. Under her ownname she is a well-known establishednovelist. She also has contributed astory to THE LADDER.)
Western Homophile Conference Keynote Address
By HENRY (HARRY) HAY
Introduction by Jim Kepner
(My chief function in speaking hereis to make an introduction. So I hopemy friend, whom I am about to introduce,won't mind if I am a bit perverseabout it. My method is perverse, ina way. It is a little like introducing TroyPerry by first saying a few kind wordsfor Mohammedanism.
I want to introduce one of those personswho has had a really revolutionaryeffect on the homophile community inthe United States, and a person whoisn't much a believer in reformism, so Iwant to say a few kind words for reformismfirst.
Without changing the system, withoutoverthrowing the Establishment,whatever that is, we have made a hell ofa lot of progress in the last twenty years.I don't think those of you who are underthirty can begin to appreciate justwhat it was like for homosexuals twodecades ago, and some you older oneshave forgotten.
We had no organizations of our own.No publications of our own. Bars--wehad plenty of them, and some just aswild as any are today, but the arrest ratein some of the liveliest ones was greatenough that if the same thing were tohappen today, we'd be storming CityHall in a half hour. We couldn't meet inChurches--the very idea was unthinkable.For that matter, we couldn't meetmuch of anyplace else either. I spoke inthis Church, the most progressiveChurch in Los Angeles, just ten yearsago, and the Church was pretty upsetabout it afterward. I could go on a longtime, but I just wanted a quick reminder,before we start talking aboutthrowing out the system, of how muchprogress we have made.
It took revolutionaries to get thatprogress rolling. Until the homosexualcause began to be a bit respectable, itwas only the revolutionaries that hadtime for it. Everybody else was afraid oftheir shadow.
I was thinking about starting a magazine,or a defense organization, as earlyas 1942. But I didn't do it, I drew upsome plans, talked to a few friends, butnothing came of it. Nothing at all.
One person was more persistent. In1948, the dream became a bit more thana dream, and by 1950, the spirit becameflesh and moved among us. The spirit,the hope, the dream that homosexualshad suppressed for centuries burst forthhere in Los Angeles, and travelled to SanFrancisco and to San Diego within a fewmore months. The first homosexual organization,the first mass homosexualorganization was born twenty years ago--the first Gay Liberation Organization.
I would like to introduce to you myvery dear friend, and mentor and antagonist,the man who first brought us outof Egypt, if not quite over the Jordan,the father of the Homophile Movement,Henry Hay.)
With all the members standing in a circlemade suddenly transcendent through thefellowship-power of its crossed-hands couplings,the Moderator requests that theyeach repeat after him the following:
"Let us hereby resolve that no youngperson among us need ever take hisfirst step out into the dark alone andafraid again!"
Does that sound like some fragment of aGay Liberation ritual? Well, it is! It is theconcluding sentence of the New MemberWelcoming Ritual of the first Gay LiberationMovement in the United States ...the original Mattachine Society, 1950 toApril of 1953.
That first Movement called Homosexuals
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to a brotherhood of love and trust;it called Homosexuals to rediscover theircollective--as well as personal--self-respectand integrity. It raised into consciousness,for the first time, the concept ofthe Homosexual Minority complete with itsown sub-culture, with its own Life-styles. Itstruggled to perceive--however dimly, andwith little language to help it--that, insome measure, the Homosexual Minorityactually looked out upon the world througha somewhat different window than did theirHeterosexual brothers and sisters. TheHomosexual world-view surely deviated indimensional values from that of its parentsociety ... a world view neither better norinferior--but athwart
Rejecting the ultimately unexaminableassumptions of Heterosexual Psychiatry,mired as they were--and still are--in theobsolescent modes of Aristotelian thinking,the first Movement called to its own fellowshipto search themselves and their severalcultures to find out at last "what WE are"--"WHO we are". It called to its membershipto assemble these findings and then introduceto the Parent Society that wideningdimension of spiritual consciousness ourcontributions would bring. And finally,upon the gift of such contributions, itpostulated the integration of our Minorityinto the Parent Society AS A GROUP ...not a "passing" assimilation by individualsbut integration by the total group ... forthis was 1950-53 and Montgomery andBirmingham and Selma still lay in the unpredictablefuture.
In the scant generation between thatlargely non-verbal THEN--and now, a hostof new scientific modes of discourse haveflooded us with resources, with language,and revelations, to firm up our early hesitantfootings ... Ethology, Etho-Ecology,Bio-Genetics, Cultural-Genetics, to name afew. Penetrating voices, speaking in thesedimensions that presage new horizons ofhigher consciousness for the Spirit of Man,have caught the ear of the new generationswho would be free ... Konrad Lorenz,R.D. Laing, Herbert Marcuse. And withintheir contexts, WE ARE THERE--if wewill but seek at last to define and discloseourselves.
In the long years between the miscalculationsof, and the headlong flight of brothersfrom, that first dream of Liberation--and Its rebirth in the Spring of 1969, themany elements of the earlier Society ...continually grouping and regrouping ...devotedly attempted to retain such basicprinciples of the Mattachine Idea as weresalvageable when the root thinking (the radicalismmotivating and inspiring the originalvision) had been precipitated out. Adjustingtheir sights to the more tried-and-true formsof the middle way the new groups soughtrespectability rather than self-respect, parliamentaryindividualism rather than thecollective trust of brotherhood, law reformand quiet assimilation rather than a communityof rich diversity within the Familyof Man. One might say that they sought tobe exactly the same as the D.A.R.--exceptin bed.
This is not to say that the long and futilestruggle, of the Homosexual MinorityMovement to wear shoes that could neverfit, did not have its gallant and contributiveaspects. For it did--and a number of theconsequences are far-reaching. Occasionallythese managed momentarily to deodorizespots in our putrefying Society withinwhich the Organizations wheel-and-deal.Also, in the larger healthier growing edgesof social-consciousness Homophile organizationshave postulated several right questions... albeit for mostly the wrong reasons.
Yet--for all that--until now, the headcount of the memberships throughout theUnited States was never able to equal thethousands who rallied, in California alone,to the original Mattachine Idea between1950 and 1953. Why do the shoes of middle-classrespectability and conformitynever seem to fit? Why do our essays atright questions time and again bear witnessthat we postulated wrong reasons? Why is itthat Homosexuals presumably high-principledand disciplined enough to joinand serve the Minority's Democratically-runService Organizations comprise so small apercentage of the Minority? Why is it thatnon-organized Homosexuals--in theirthousands over the years--opine smuglythat Homosexuals kid themselves whenthey think they can effectively organize atall ... because they really have nothing incommon but their sex drives? Why? Why?WHY?
Because... when the Queens of closetrank chose to seek respectability by turningtheir backs resolutely on their brothers and,sisters of the Street, they shut out fromtheir perspectives the first and primary tasklaid upon the Minority by the OriginalMattachine Vision--the task of discovering"What ARE we?" "WHO ARE we?"
We Homosexuals know much about
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ourselves we've never talked about--evenTO ourselves. History knows much about usthat it doesn't know it knows ... but WEcould recognize it if we would look. Mythand Legend, Tradition and Folk-ways knowmuch about us that has been deliberatelyobscured by endless politically-motivatedConspiracies of Silence ... WHICH WECAN EXPLODE IF WE WILL. As the FreeGeneration, and the Third World, have revealedbeyond any possibility" of longerdenying it, our vain-hallowed culture isslowly sinking into a veritable kitchen-middenof obscenely-generated unexaminedassumptions, learned by rote, inheritedwithout question, and having not one shredof a basis for possible justification in themodern world. That the three largest oppressedMinorities in the United States todayare victims of politically-motivatedunexamined false assumptions, sanctimoniouslyparading as religious Revelationsof our Hallowed Western Civilization,should come as no surprise.
From the marriage of Hellenistic philosophyand Judeo-Roman politics, projectedto God-head and named Christianity, weproudly inherit through REVELATION theunassailable proof that Women are inferiorFrom the Divine Revelations of RenaissanceHumanism, and the ReformationalElect, we inherit the unassailable proof thatboth Women and non-Whites are inferiorFrom the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant"Best of all possible Worlds" we inherit theunassailable proofs that both non-whitesand Queers are inferior
Second-class citizens ALL ... it shouldnot be surprising that as oppressed and harriedMinorities we three learned lessons andshare certain levels of consciousness in common.As with the largest oppressed Minority--Women--the Homosexual Minorityknows the shape and substance of MaleChauvinism--we too have lived under itslash all our lives. As with the second largestoppressed Minority--the non-Whites, theHomosexual Minority knows the bitter harvestof being the Village Nigger!
Women know that no man has ever beenable to describe or project what it means tobe, and to feel like, a self-appreciating woman.Yet she does not need to be explainedor defended. She is existential. She IS! TodayBlacks are making it unmistakably clearthat no Whiteman has ever been able to describeor project what it means, and feelslike, to be a self-appreciating Black. Nordoes he need to be explained or defended.
He is existential. He IS! We Homosexualsknow that no Heterosexual man has everbeen able to describe, or begin to project,what it means to be, and feel like, a self-appreciatingHomosexual. To update Descartes,COGITO ET SENTIO ERGO SUM!And for each of our three Minorities--toknow this is to make us free within ourselves,requires us (whether we like it ornot) to move to social consciousness, andforetells our several potentials as allies inthe struggle for the new world a-coming.
What is it that we know of ourselvesthat no Heterosexual as yet has begun toperceive? It is that we Homosexuals have apsychic architecture in common, we have aDream in common, man to man, woman towoman. For all of us, and for each of us, inthe dream of Love's ecstasy ... The Goddescends--the Goddess descends; and foreach of us the transcendence of thatapotheosis is mirrored in the answeringglances of the lover's eyes. FOR WESHARE THE SAME VISION ... Like toLike. Heterosexuals do not partake of sucha communion of spirit. Their's is ...other. And--in this mating of like to like--what is it we seek? Not the power and vanitiesof dynasty, not wealth or property, notsocial contract or security, not status, norpreferment, as does the Parent Society. Weseek union, EACH WITH HIS SIMILAR--heart to mirroring heart--free spirit to free,spirit!
We are a Minority of a common Spirituality,we are a Free People ... and wehave always been so--throughout the millenia,each in his generation! No allegiance,no sanctions, no taboos or prohibitions, nolaws have ever been encompassing enoughor powerful enough to stand between usand the pursuit of our Dream. It was noaccident, no poetic stroke of whimsy, thattranslated our persons--in the King JamesTestament--as "Fools", nor translated ourvision guests as "folly". Tradition knew uswell--"Fools rush in where Angels fear totread!" Throughout our millenia we were,and are how, in the faithful service to theGreat Mother--Earth--Nature, and inloyal service to her children--the peoplewho preserved the Great Mother's ecologicalharmonies, both psychically and materially,in the ritual of their everyday lives.To those of her communities who grantedus respect and acknowledged our integrity,we gave loyalty beyond ordinary measuresof endurance ... Les Societes Mattachinesof both Feudal and Monarchial France give
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ample testimony to that. BUT--to tyrants,and to alien usurping Gods, the clear unflaggingflame of our Dream was--and remainsstill--heresy--treason--witch-craft--the unforgivable sin. Towards the expropriatorsof the Spirit of Man we Homosexuals"are forever alien; in their eyes weare forever Anathema!
We Homosexuals are a Minority whoshare each other's Dream whether we speakthe same language or-not, who share a commonpsychic vision whether we share thesame cultural make-up or not, all the daysof our years. Though we are born with allthe aggressive fighting instincts of our commonhumanity, the psychic architecture--characteristic to our Minority natures--beginsto reshape and redirect these vitalenergies with almost the first stirrings in usof spiritual consciousness. The aggressivecompetitiveness, taken for granted as aneternal, verity by our Heterosexual ParentSociety, in us redirects, under the guidanceof the Blueprint of our Minority nature. Inus, this genetic redirection transforms ourperceptions of unconsciously-inherited animal.Maleness or Femaleness into appreciationsof--nay even a life-long passion to callforth, to call into being, the grace and tendernessbehind that competitive strength,the humility and compassion behind thatterritorial ruthlessness, in our fellow siblingsof the Great Mother. For grace and tenderness,humility and compassion are revealedto us as being implicit in the aspect ... thespirituality ... of the Masculine Ideal, theFeminine Ideal. He who answers, she whoanswers, our call into being is our LIKE,our SIMILAR, ... the one who finds inour aspect the ideal we find in his,--thatideal which we can understand in him, inher, and cherish in ourselves, because weshare its outlook in common. This sharedcommonality of outlook is a world-view totallyunfamiliar to the accrued experienceof our Parent Society. It is a view of the lifeexperience through a different window.
The Free Generation, the young Millions,now striving to perceive the dimensionsof the Family of Man, also seek toachieve that redirection of the fists of territorialaggression into the compassionatehand-clasp of the Community of Spirit.That capacity for redirection has characterizedour Minority from the beginning. Wewere its proving-grounds in the processes ofnatural selection. We carried--we carry,through the millenia of lives-experiences,--the promise that one day all mankind mightbe able to learn to make that redirectionmanifest.
For three hundred years, our useful contributivepast in Western Culture has beenpulverized and effaced by deliberate politically-motivatedConspiracies of Silence. Inthis hell of Anomie, we--of the HomosexualMinority--have been reduced tosemi-conscious rudder-less wanderers,driven like sheep to conform to social patternswhich atrophied our perceptions andshredded our souls, beset on every side bythe bacilli of--to us--alien value-judgmentswhich riddled the very sinews of ourDream. But now, even in this late hour,there is a light at the end of our long tunnel.There are voices on the wind giving dimensionsto the freeing of the Spirit ofMan. The time is now for our Minority tobegin at last to comprehend what we haveknown for so long. The time is NOW for usto speak of, and to share, that which wehave lived and preserved for so long. Thereappearance of the "Gay Liberation Ideal"calls to each of us to stoke anew the passionatefires of our particular vision of theCommunity of Spirit. The breath-takingsweep of "Gay Liberation" challenges us tobreak loose from the lockstep expectationsof Heterosexual life patterns so obliteratingof our natures. Even the Free Generation,seeking a widened angle of worldview, challengesus to throw off the Dream-destroyingshackles of alien thought that we may exhibit,at long last, the rich diversities of ourdeviant perceptions.
To liberate our Minority life-styles, wefirst must explode once and for all the obsceneunexamined assumptions by whichwe bind ourselves into the obsolescent socialconformities ... as for instance ourconcern for the "Image" assumption. I conformto no Image; I define myself. WE DEFINEOURSELVES! To a people whowould be free--images are irrelevancies.Again--we assume that to govern ourselveswe must enact forcible restraints upon eachother, and that the cumulative detrimentwill be negligible so long as these restraintsare patently disguised as "Democratic" procedures.In this field the great unexaminedassumption is that Robert's Rules of Orderachieve a maximum of free expressionwithin a minimum of collective restraints.To the competitive, to the territorialists, tothe ego-ridden, to the status-seekers, of ourdecaying Society, the parliamentary coercionsof "majority" votings ... of specialinterest lobbyings .... of cloak-room obligations
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cunningly connived ... of filibusteringsand steam-rollerings ... doappear to provide a set of minimal repressionswhereby the random aggressions ofdelegates may be controlled. The sad truthis that, because of the failure of the Spiritof Man to surface into collective consciousnessin our Western Society, these proceduresserve only to assure the continueddomination of the pecking order.
All this is NOT of us! these are the shoeswhich never have fitted us; these are theshackles of alien thought that--brain-washingus to accept a world-view through theWRONG window--hold us to our bondage.Our Homosexual Liberation Movementmust consist of far-ranging Communities ofFree Spirits. What have Free Peoples to dowith politely-masked repressions of one another?With coercions, or with claims-layingupon one another? What have Free Peoplesto do with the voting principles that dividepeople from one another, or with the pretentiousmounting of resolutions? Each ofthese restrictions seeks to shame and cajolethe many to conform to the ego-mania orthe wishful-thinking of the few. Have wepermitted our perceptions to become soatrophied that we can assume fellow Homosexuals,or ourselves for that matter, vulnerableto being shamed and cajoled by brainwashedsell-outs in our midst? Beingshamed and cajoled by pressures inimical toour natures has been the ever-present baneof our Homosexual life-experience; we arepast masters in the arts of dissembling,and/or vanishing under an invisible cloak,whenever such pressures threaten.
The Community of Free Spirits is notjust a fantasy in the minds of wool-gathererssuch as I. It has a history of long-lastingand exceedingly viable Societies outsideof Western Europe (and even smallercontained communities within Western Europe)to recommend it. Anthropologistswho, in recent years, have learned to perceivesocietal systems as things-in-themselveswholly within the context of theirown self-developed referants, confess thatindividual life-styles within such systems aremore free than life-styles conceived in WesternCivilization. Our Homosexual LiberationIdeal mandates such a community ofFree Spirits. Not for us the constrictions ofpolitical parties, of leaders who presume tospeak for us, of experts who conspire tothink for us, of alliances that obligate us toact in the name of others or that permitothers to expropriate the use of ours. Wecome together in a voluntary sharing of aspiritual outlook. We touch hearts. Togetherwe grow in consciousness to generateissues, AND ACTIONS UPON THESE ISSUES,which make manifest the fleshingout of our shared world-vision. We consense,we affirm and re-affirm the FreeCommunity of Spirit, we acknowledge aspokesman to voice our thinking when suchvoicings seem called for. Sometimes we maydo a thing together and so we will act in thename of the Community. Other times weare, each or several, off on our own thingand here we act in the name of the self-liberated(or in the name of the group, dependingentirely upon the specific Group'sfeelings in the matter.) BUT--within thisCommunity--let the Spirit be betrayed, letcoercion or opportunism attempt to bindany of us against our will ... andPRESTO, like the Faeries of Folk-lore, suddenlywe are no longer there. Shame me,call me names, resolve me to a position I donot share, couple me to an opinion I do nothold, vote my presence to an action againstmy grain ... and I'm long gone. "Oncebitten, twice shy!"
Our Faerie characteristic is our HomosexualMinority's central weakness ...and, paradoxically, also the keystone of ourenduring strength. For whether we are self-liberated,or still self-imprisoned within theterritorial conformities of our oppressors,we Homosexuals are moved to answerONLY when the call is to the special characteristicsof our psychic natures. WeHomosexuals are moved to act ONLY whenthe call--as heard in our hearts--is a Spiritcall to freedom.
(This address was delivered to theWestern Homophile Conference, heldat the First Unitarian Church of LosAngeles, February 14, 15, 1970.
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Confessions of a Pseudo-Male Chauvinist
By MARTHA SHELLEY
I've always admired "masculine" women,despite the popular prejudice againstwomen who step out of their traditionalroles. This attitude has roots in my childhood.Somehow, inside the shy, bespectacledlittle girl was the vision of a womanjet pilot--the first woman on Mars--awoman brain surgeon--a guerrilla fighter inthe French Resistance. Well, I haven't becomeany of those things, just a radical lesbian,a writer for the gay crusade--so Iguess I'm not the epitome of passive femininity,even if I never did learn to fly aplane.
However, after I became involved withWomen's Liberation, I began to noticesomething about myself that embarrassedme. I didn't really like women. In bed, yes--but all my friends were men. In rejectingthe woman's role, from knitting to cookingto wearing mascara, I had also rejectedwomen--except for women jet pilots, executivesand astronauts. And since none ofmy female acquaintances piloted planes ormanaged General Motors for a living, Isnobbishly (and self-destructively) treatedwomen as sex objects and men as intellectualcompanions. In short, I was a pseudomale chauvinist.
So who's kidding whom? By identifyingwith the male oppressor class, I didn't becomemale or get any more privileges thanother women. An Uncle Tom in a starchedshirt makes a little more money than ablack porter, but that doesn't make himwhite. As a pseudo male chauvinist, anAunt Thomasina lesbian, I wasn't expectedto do the dishes or bring my male friendstheir pipes and slippers--but I didn't comewithin light years of getting an executivejob. And I didn't even get a mink.
I was putting myself down by despisingmy own sex for the roles we have beenforced to play--despising the slave for beingin chains instead of directing my angertowards the slavemaster who put her there.The trap of pseudo male chauvinism was soeasy to fall into. It's easy to say: "How canI talk to someone whose head is full of recipes,soap operas and floor wax? Why didn'tshe go on to college and learn something?She must be lazy or halfwitted."
Not brainwashed. It never occurred tome that the average woman has been brainwashedinto passivity and subservience--just as homosexuals have been brainwashedinto guilt feelings (which most of them stillhave). Women's oppression is the oldestform of oppression in the world, the deepest-rooted,the most subtle, the most widespreadthroughout the world. Blacks got thevote 100 years ago and are still struggling inagony against their oppression. Women,after oppression which goes back to thedawn of history, have not been liberated bya mere fifty years of possessing the right tovote. (Note: many people who accept thenotion that bigotry is brainwashed into peopleare the very same people who say, "Whydon't blacks or women study harder andpull themselves up by their bootstraps?"This line of thinking which finds excusesfor the exploiter but condemns the exploited,is very popular in the United Statestoday. Another example: the cigarette advertiserwhose job is to get people hookedon a slow poison, "has to make a livingwithin the system." The nicotine addict"should have more will power." In otherwords, you should have resisted all thoseads that are calculated to undermine yourresistance. If you didn't, it's your fault, notthe fellow who makes the money off yourhabit--and I hope you have Blue Cross.)
It is easy to look at the kindly, intellectualgentlemen around me--and to forgetthat the leisure time they put into intellectualpursuits was stolen from wivesand mothers who darned their socks,cooked their dinners, and worked as shop-girlsto put these men through graduateschool. Kingman Brewster, president ofYale University, recently objected to admittingmore female students; he statedthat it was the task of Yale to produce1,000 male-leaders for the U.S. every year.
Male leaders!--these self-assured, college-educatedlords of the earth, every oneof them brought up to believe that it is hisbirthright to rule over at least one woman!
I went to college (not Yale) with thesegentlemen, saw them in all their arroganceof power--and to my shame, I admiredthem and strove to be like them. As gentlemenassured of power and status, they werepolite to me--noblesse oblige--and Iclosed my eyes to their lower class counterparts.Now the lower class male hasn't gotas many people to lord it over as does the,upper class male. Furthermore, he is lesspolished, more direct. He doesn't seduceyou by candlelight.
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Every time I walk out in the street, inthe ghetto where I live, I am subject to theopen, brutal arrogance of these men.There's your male chauvinism laid on theline, the reality behind the courteous smileof a bank manager who refuses to consideryou for promotion.
The charming southern gentleman, whohas a thousand carefully constructed argumentsin favor of maintaining segregated facilities,is but the thin veneer over the lynchmob. He will not stoop to do the dirtywork--let the rednecks do it. The malepsychology professor who argues for thenecessity of male--leadership and the importanceof a woman building a man's ego,is but a mask on the face of a rapist. Andthe woman psychologist who backs him upand gently, deviously tells you to go backinto the kitchen, is our pseudo male chauvinist.She's got her Uncle Tom job--and Iwonder what it does to her mind, to herown sense of self-esteem, to behave in away that is so contemptuous towards hersex.
Now before you go around beatingyourself over the head for being a pseudomale chauvinist, or even worse, buttonholingsome other woman and accusing herof the same, remember that most of oursisters haven't had too many choices. If youwant to make it on the job--even just tokeep the job--you have to kowtow to themen. Any woman who wanted to get aheadin any profession has had to play the gameof being nice to the men, trying to convincethem that she was not a threat to their egos,letting them take credit for her suggestions.And this sort of behavior--if you want towrite for a newspaper, you get stuck withthe fashion page and after a while you beginto justify what you are doing--will continueto be necessary for most women untilthe consciousness of the nation is changed;until the new consciousness of Women'sLiberation has spread across the land sothat no woman will be unaware of what sheis doing.
I have walked on 42nd Street at nightand seen dozens of my black sisters walkingthe streets in order to sell their bodies.They were well-dressed--better dressedthan I was. And I have worked in Harlemand seen the schools they went to, and Ihave worked in downtown offices in NewYork City for $.75 a week--offices wherethey wouldn't hire a black woman to doanything but sweep the floor at night whenno one could see her face--and do I darecriticize these sisters? They couldn't getthat $75 a week legitimately, and now theyget $75 a night illegitimately. It's betterthan welfare, better than domestic work.And now that some jobs have opened upfor black women, do you think the prostitutescan go straight now? Who will hirethem, women with convictions and jail sentences?When black women college graduatesare dying to get those secretarial jobs?
The psychology professor who defendedthe domination of the male was a man Iadmired ... I craved the respect, the attentionof the intellectual male and flatteredmyself to think that I was consideredsuperior to the average housewife. Except Iwasn't. To those men I was a bit of a freak,like a talking dog--amusing, but not to betaken seriously. And down in the ghetto Iknew exactly where I stood: "Hey, baby,wanna f---?"
Many educated and/or butch-type womenbehave just as I did. Most straightwomen prefer men to women as friends,and will break dates with other women atthe last minute if a man calls up. Manybutch-types of my acquaintance--includingmyself--have expected their lovers tobehave as housewives; in other words, wehave often oppressed other women in thesame way that men oppress straight women.
It isn't easy to become aware of yourown oppression. It's much easier to avoidnoticing a humiliating situation, to pretendthat it doesn't affect you--that otherwomen may be oppressed by their husbandsor lovers or bosses, or may be brainwashed
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but not you.
If you think that you aren't particularlyoppressed or brainwashed, try this test:pick up a copy of "Playboy" magazine andlook at the cartoons. Do you think they'refunny? Now look again at how they portraywomen--as stupid broads, ever-eager sexobjects. Turn on your television and watchthe commercials--the ignorant housewifelistening to the authoritative male voice ashe tells her which floor wax to use. Look ata "woman's" magazine.--compare its vocabularyand intellectual content to anymen's magazine. Do you notice these insultsto your sex--or do you just pass overthem, assuming that the average housewifereally does have an IQ of 35 and deserves tobe addressed in this manner? Would you noticeif they were insults to your race or religion?
If you aren't aware of these constant,daily insults, you've been brainwashed intoignoring and accepting them. If you prefermale friends or male bosses, if your "respect"for other women consists of openingdoors for them but despising their conversation--welcome to the pseudo malechauvinist club.
And if, after reading this article, youthink I mean YOU--yes, you personally--welcome, sister, to Women's Liberation.
Bennett.
By LEANNE BOSWORTH
Seeing her on the bus every day--shemust live outside the city. Takes the busalmost as far as you do. Such pretty hair--would look wonderful spread out on a pillow.So chic--to impress all the youngexecs at the office, you suppose.
Look down at your loafers--what thehell, Bennett, it's a print shop. You'd breakyour neck. You got used to being your ownkind of girl a long time ago. Smile at yourself.Look at you, giving up your seat to anold lady--not to show up the guys, butyou're next to her now.
"Sorry, didn't mean to squash you."(Didn't you, Bennett?) From now on youtake an earlier bus. Think about this sometimes,though, and wonder about that everytenth man statistic. Are you too picayune?Fastidious, you comfort yourself. AfterLea, what else could you be? But it's been along time--so long that the spring doesn'teven hurt this year.
How alone we are. The Isolated Society.Being gay doesn't make the difference; beingurban does. "Reach out toward me.Care for me. Be my friend." All togethernow. In buses. In car-pools. In apartment.complexes. At lunch counters. Never anyprivacy. Never any closeness. Always theasking eyes.
"Excuse me, thank you, I'm sorry, excuseme" DAMN! Wrong stop. Her stop.Tomorrow is even-up-your-keel day.
"Need some help? You look confused."Smile Bennett--she's smiling. "Wrong stop.I don't function in the morning."
"Coffee help?" Look up. Meet her eyesand know that there is now a question inyours.
"Where?"
"Around the corner." Walk and saynothing more. Feel the irony and the self-mockery--and don't swear--for God'ssake don't swear at her. Lipstick for youtomorrow, Bennett. When you start gettingpicked up by stray people-collectors, it'sgetting bad.
The door is held for you and you realizethat you have been out-classed. She hastaken the street side of the walk. She hasseen you seated first. She has ordered. Beforeyou know it, you're angry.
"Now wait a minute, I'm ..."
"Cute."
So sit there. Wonder how to articulatean exclamation point. Feel the laughterbubble up in her (and you!). But the coffeehas come and you are being ordered to consumethe sweet roll and informed that youdidn't eat breakfast. You are going to belate for work, Bennett.
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We Need This Now
Recently on television I watched an interviewwith a few girls on the radical flankof the Women's Liberation Movement. Thename of the particular group I did notcatch, nor the names of the girls I mostremember. This is what I remember, asclose to the exact words as I can recall. Theinterviewer (CBS News) asked, "Then youthink that all relations between men andwomen must end?" "Yes." "Then willwomen turn to women?" "Yes. As sisters,rebels, comrades-in-arms." "But what willwomen do about fulfilling their nature?What will women do for love?" "No oneknows what woman's nature is. And love isjust a word. It doesn't mean anything. Lovedoesn't exist. It's just a word we've got tothrow out."
"Love doesn't exist." She could havesaid, "Yes, some of us will love women,some because they have always loved womensexually and will always want to, othersbecause they are too bitter and resentful ofmen. And some will still love men, but eitherin totally open and passing relationshipsor, if long-term, on an open andequal basis which seldom exists in marriageas it is today. Others of us will love bothmen and women. Still others, like me, willmake no ties of love with anyone, becausesex in our experience has been repulsive andlove a fraud." Something like that wouldhave shown some comprehension of therange of people, the range of experiencesand needs and capacities and possibilities,some sense of the breadth and depth ofhuman existence. But what does she say?"Love doesn't exist"! She legislates that forall mankind and womankind. That worldshe would legislate for us all is a world sohollow and dead and nightmarish, I wonderhow she can keep from slitting her throatwith the horror of it. A world which existsonly for roving bands of comrades-in-hate.After those bands dedicated to disillusioninghuman beings with what they call theillusion of love have done their work, let ushope there will mercifully follow bands ofmissionaries to teach people how to commitsuicide as quickly and painlessly as possible.Or perhaps by then such missionaries willbe funded to build huge prisons or hospitalswhere we can sit in our hygienically solitarycells and learn to be catatonic, to forgetthat we live in our bodies and breathe air.
That girl made me think of something Ijust read in a beautiful book (a book thatshe must read). The book is Loren Eiseley'sThe Firmament of Time, and this is the passage:
Some time ago, in a magazine of considerablecirculation, I spoke about the roleof love in human society, and about pressinghuman problems which I felt, rightly orwrongly, would not be solved by the penetrationof space. The response amazed me,in some instances, by its virulence. I wasdenounced for interfering with the colonizationof other planets, and for corruptionof the young. Most pathetically of all, severalpeople wrote me letters in which theytried to prove, largely for their own satisfaction,that love did not exist, that parentsabused and murdered their children andchildren their parents ... It was all tooplain that these individuals were seeking rationalizationsbehind which they might hidefrom their own responsibilities. They werein the whirlpool, that much was evident.But so are we all. (Atheneum Publishers, p.132)
Who can contemplate the dazzling miracleof our exploding universe without wonderand awe and love? "The wonder ofwonders," wrote Heidegger, "is that there issomething rather than nothing." That is astatement of love. Who can really see themiracle that is a leaf, or a spider's web, orpaintings left on the wall of a cave, and notfeel wonder and love? We can't unless weare capable of wonder and love. We can'tlove anything unless we are capable of lovingourselves. We can't love anything unlesswe are capable of loving each other. Lovedoes not exist? If that is true, then let usend ourselves, for we are dead.--But NO!Love does exist! The word does havemeaning!
Another girl said that all pregnancymust end, not only because of the populationexplosion but because all women hatepregnancy, that pregnancy is hideous andhell and that it has never been more thanthat except in the myths of men. (She mayspeak for many women, but she doesn'tspeak for me. Bearing and nursing my twochildren was a private and personal, overwhelminglyglorious experience for me, onewhich had nothing to do with any malemyth, or any myth.) The alternatives whichshe sees are, of course, test-tube babies andthe rearing of all children by state institutions.
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Certainly children would be betteroff in institutions than in homes of violentconflict, of lovelessness, of neglect, whichunfortunately means many children now.They would be better off in institutionsthan in such homes only because there theymight have a chance--a very little higherthan zero--of making a loving connectionwith some human being, whereas in suchhomes, or with a single parent alone whohates herself and them and life, they wouldhave no-chance at all. But certainly childrearingin institutions is no positive alternative.Studies ranging from machine-fedrhesus monkeys to autistic children havegiven clear enough pictures for anyone whowants to look at the kind of automaton vegetablewe could expect to emerge from suchinstitutions. A full-fledged human beingwhich, contrary to these girls, I take tomean a being capable of curiosity andgrowth and wonder and love, does notspring fully armed like Athena from her father'sskull (or from fatherly sperm in atort); a child must be taught to grow, andthe teacher is human love. A child gatherstogether his sense of identity, his sense ofself-esteem, of confidence to explore andexpress himself, from the loving eyes ofothers. It is as simple as this: a child musthave that love or he does not grow. Or hegrows only into a fearful, bitter, spitefulperson incapable of anything but hate. Ihave been told by a psychiatrist whom Irespect that it doesn't matter whether it is afather and a mother, a father, a mother, agrandmother, an aunt, a nanny, whoever--as long as somewhere someone (or ones) establishesa deep and lasting loving relationshipwith a child. We don't need to resort totest-tubes to control the population explosion.The women who do want to havebabies shall have to restrict them to two,and the women who don't want to will nolonger feel any moral or social compulsionto have children. With that compulsiongone, the numbers of children born will bereduced to the possible level and at thesame time the many ways children can beraised with love can open and flower in alltheir possibilities. Two women togethercould raise children--their own or someoneelse's--or two men, or a woman alone,or a man alone, or a woman and man togetheras it has been--as long as thosechildren are raised in love! The answer isnot to institutionalize ourselves more; childrenfor decades now have been so institutionalizedby schools, market and mediawhich give only a cynical damn about them,that as a culture, independent thought,clear and fresh perception and genuine feelingshave almost dropped from our capacities.Certainly in performance we seemcapable of little more than mindless roving(or milling) in gangs, gangs of sheep stuporor sheep hate. The girl who said from herabsolute cynicism that love does not exist issheep-sister to her sheep-brother counterparton Madison Avenue who has been tellingus for years now that love, that greasykid stuff, does not exist, that love we allknow (how long we've looked at his cynicalwink) is no more than Gadget Sex, the realitiesof which are bad breath, bacteria in thearmpits, and--bless us--the cash-nexus.And she believed him! Big brother taughtlittle sister--and look! She has swallowedthe whole putrid mess without a hesitationor a gulp, down to the last soggy corn flake.Another victory for the vegetables, for theloveless. Allies under the cloth.
No, the way is not to test-tubes, eugenicsand institutions, to more and morelovelessness. One of the right ways has alreadybegun. It is to attack the cynical lovelessnesswhich sells us love as Miss America,and Bunny Girl, and "Super Feminine DeodorantSpray," and "Slims.". And all thefury should not be spent just for women'splight. The standards of identity, of whatone can expect from life, are just as putridand cheap and empty for the men. Nohuman being in any positive sense of theword could emerge from the blueprints forhumanity presented by our media, manufacturedby our industries and swallowed,in lieu of anything else, by millions! Is thatwhy we have become so violent as a people?I think so. Because no one is living his life!The attack against Madison Avenue's Womanhas, as we all know, started. But oncethat makes a dent--and even before itdoes, even now--the image presented tomen as Man, that timid, mindless corporatecog who fills his well-groomed slot either inthe Sex industries or the Big Kill factoriesand then goes home to the TV Football Circusand to play Bunny Boy to Bunny Girlwith plenty of Mennon After Shave to salvehis sense of his own uninterestingness--that death trap must go, too. Most men fulfillthat image (these cynics--they knowwhat they're doing) just as most womenfulfill the one oozed out to them, but all ofthem--men and women--are loveless andunfulfilled and miserable! Woman, yes,
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nine Poems
By ELSA GIDLOW
THE ARTIST
Let us leave off loving, my Lady,
You have kissed me grey
And still I have no peace.
We thought we could make the night
A tapestry of passion.
Dear love! What a vain caprice.Where's the immortal design
We thought we had splashed on the indigo cloth?
And where is the cloth?
Dawn is forever the cynic:
He shows us love is the flame,
Our flesh the eternal moth.Lady ... loose me and rise.
We are brief as apple blossom
And I am shadowed by thought of the end.
The hours are thieves, Time a beggar
And we have little to spend.I ache for the brush in my hand.
The thrall of the compliant pigment
Governs my blood.
I will paint you, my Lady,
The after love glow in your face;
I would deify you if I could
With enchantments of color,
Bind you with fetters of terrible beauty
Fast to my canvas forever,
Give you the eternality God has denied you,
Bind you to life with art's sacred chains
That death cannot sever.Love has betrayed us enough with its treacherous wonder;
Let us go now while we ache with its magic
Or what is the gain?
Art is our one immortality,
All we may win from the gods
In exchange for our labor and pains.Elsa Gidlow
BEING DIFFERENT
In a dogs' world
Being different
Is no distress to the cat.Should I--
Though less elegant--
Be less wise?Elsa Gidlow
EPISODE
I have robbed the garrulous streets,
Thieved a fair girl from their blight,
I have taken her for a sacrifice
That I shall make to this fleeting night.I have brought her, laughing
To my moon-enchanted garden.
For what will be done there
I ask no man's pardon.Elsa Gidlow
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INVOCATION TO SAPPHOSappho
Sister/Mother
free--
souled, fire-hearted
Psappha of Mitylene on
sea-lapped Lesbos
miracle of a woman(Strabo wrote)
now now
let me declare
devotion
Not light years love years:
on how many love years
across fields" of the dead
does your fragrance
travel to me?Since maidenhood in brain blood
by you haunted
in my own armpits I have breathed
sweat of your passion
in the burning crotch of the lover
tasted your honey
heard felt in my pulseday-long
night-throughlure of your song's beat
insistently echo.By dust of five-and-twenty centuries
not smothered
by book-consuming flames of
the hate-filled churchmanunsilenced
your fame only haloed made
more splendidSappho, little and dark
The Beautiful, Plato called you
(though his Republic had
grudging use for poets
Sappho, whose veins ran firewhose nerves
quivered to loves illicit now
in your day
honored by the noblest
Sappho, all roses
do we not touch
across the censorious years?Elsa Gidlow
CONSTANCY
You're jealous if ! kiss this gin and that,
You think I should be constant to one mouth;
Little you know of my too quenchless drouth.
My sister, I keep faith with love, not lovers.Life laid a flaming finger on my heart,
Gave me an electric golden thread,
Pointed to a pile of beads and said,
Link me one more glorious than the rest.Love's the thread, my sister ou a bead,
An ivory one, you are so delicate,
These first burned ash-grey--far too passionate.
Further on the colors mount and sing.When the last bead's painted with the last design
And slipped upon the thread, I'll tie it so,
Then, smiling quietly, I'll turn and go
While vain Life boasts her latest ornament.Elsa Gidlow
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OF A CERTAIN FRIENDSHIP
Odd how you entered my house quietly,
Quietly left again,
While you stayed you ate at my table,
Slept in my bed.
There was much sweetness,
Yet little was done, little said.
After you left there was pain,
Now there is no more pain.
But the door of a certain room in my house
Will always be shut.
Your fork, your plate, the glass you drank from,
The music you played
Are in that room
With the pillow where last your head was laid.
And there is one place in my garden
Where it's best that I set no foot.Elsa Gidlow
(Elsa Gidlow was born in England, grewup in a French-Canadian village and movedto New York City at age 21, where she becameassociate editor of PEARSON'SMAGAZINE. Her first book of poetry, ONA GREY LINE, appeared in 1924 (Chicago,Will Ransom publisher). In 1925 she migratedto California and for a number ofyears edited a trade journal before becominga full-time free lance writer.
Her poetry has appeared in dozens ofmagazines: VOICES, SATURDAY REVIEW,PEARSON'S, NEW MASSES,AMERICAN POETRY JOURNAL, POETRY,etc., and in many anthologies includingCALIFORNIA POETS, N.Y., HenryHarrison, 1932, TODAY'S LITERATURE,N.Y., American Book Co., 1935, and thatomnibus volume of variant and Lesbianpoetry, CONTEMPORARY AMERICANWOMEN POETS, edited by Tooni Gordi,N.Y., Henry Harrison, 1936.
LOVE'S ACOLYTE: GIRL TO WOMAN
Many have loved you with lips and fingers
And lain with you till the moon went out;
Many have brought you lover's gifts;
And some have left their dreams on your doorstep.But I who am youth among your lovers
Come like an acolyte to worship,
My thirsting blood restrained by reverence,
My heart a wordless prayer.The candles of desire are lighted,
I bow my head afraid before you,
A mendicant who craves your bounty
Ashamed of what small gifts she brings.Elsa Gidlow
YOU SAY
You say you will not think of me:
You shut me out and count your beads,
The chaplet of your rules and doubts.
But lovers never think of creed's.You'll fill your mind with serious things:
You'll think of God, or Infinity,
Of a lover whose last charm is gone,
Of anything in the world but me.Yet every thought will lead you back,
Infinity grow far and dim,
And God, with His sense of irony,
Will never let you think of Him.Elsa Gidlow
EXPERIENCE
Now you are gone I kiss your dented pillow
And wonder if it hungers like my breast
For the dear head we both have held in rest.I said once: Love alone cannot assuage
My thirst, my hunger, love has no reply
For that wild questioning, for this fierce cry;I said, there is no kiss can feed me now,
Perhaps love is life's flower: I seek the root;
Yea, I have loved and love is dead sea fruit.Yet I lie here and kiss your dented pillow,
A trembling girl who loves you overmuch--
A harp in anguish for the player's touch.Elsa Gidlow
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must have the jobs she qualifies for, the payshe earns, the degrees she earns, the participationand recognition all her many creativeand cultural contributions deserve--Icouldn't agree more, we all couldn't agreemore--but we must realize at the sametime that most of the jobs men nowmonopolize stink and are not fit work forhuman beings. While we are fighting for the.full participation of woman we must alsofight to create a culture that is worth participatingin What good have we served ifwe attack Maidenform bras and then workto help produce more Maidenform bras,more collapsible, souped-up cars for BunnyBoy and Bunny Girl to (as the advertisinggoes) "escape in" (once we're not all sodesperately unsatisfied with our lives, willwe buy more cars, and that kind of cars?),more guns and rockets and firebombs forBunny Boys to play pop-gun with, pretendingat self-esteem and purposefulnessthey do not feel? While we're attacking theempty, loveless Image of Woman and, Ihope, equally the empty, loveless Image ofMan, we must also attack the empty, lovelessjobs. That means we must work for(not just against) culture in a really hugeway; we must all of us think together andwork to create meaningful, purposeful,self-fulfilling (and non-polluting) work, theproduction of objects which are of solidhigh quality (not foods full of fillers andadditives and poisons, not objects which inthe making poison and which by calculationfall apart in the hand), objects which arereally useful, not just junk which onlymindless and mesmerized Bunnies wouldbuy, objects in which a woman or a manmaking or selling them could take pride,not just cynical contempt. We've got tohelp create a climate of widely active andhigh quality art and thought as well, so thatthere is a viable alternative to mindless MuscleShows and loveless Deodorized Sex betweenautomatons. I think about that allthe time. Let me tell you my dream of whatwe might do, and then you tell yours.Maybe together we can find ways and begin.
What I dream of, which I think mightoffer economic alternatives to psychologicalbuying and to war industries and at thesame time be an antidote to institutionalanonymity and conformism, is to create inevery town, in every city, borough or area,a spring festival on the Athenian scale--with locally written and produced andacted theatre, sport competitions for allages, writing competitions awarded withsubstantial prizes and local publication, andthe same for painting and sculpture, and formusic composition and performance. People'simaginations are so starved for realfood, if it could be begun in a really vitalway even in one town or city area, I think itwould attract so much interest (and money,too) that it would spread like brush fire.I'm thinking of something like the ShakespeareanFestival in Ashland, Oregon, whichI understand (and hope) depends on localeffort, but I think of that made muchbroader and combined with the dancing andsinging in the streets of the Carnival in Riobefore Lent. Not Shakespeare or Ibsen orO'Neill or Williams. Let all those be doneby professional companies and by localplayers during the year; for the Festival letit be only locally written plays new thatyear, so that people will start at last to usetheir human imaginations again, use themfrom scratch. And poetry readings. And amarket created where made or grown thingscan be bartered, not for money but in exchange--a song or poem for a hand-thrownpot, a painting for a hand-made and personallydesigned chair, a designed and madedress or pair of sandals for a basket ofgrown flowers. Maybe such a Carnival, sucha Festival, would revitalize all our activities:maybe we could restore again real "participatorydemocracy," like the so desperatelymissed town meetings that once upon atime really were meeting, and maybe ourchurches so that religion could mean somethingagain, and certainly not least, ourschools. Maybe education could again becomemore than schools; maybe even wecould learn to talk to each other again, toteach others in a neighborhood square asSocrates and Plato did. This, anyway, is mydream. Is it impossible, hopelessly naive?Then tell me your dream. Let us dream togetherand then work together to make ithappen. We've got to change an economywhich depends for its life-blood on an idiotlevel of culture, and we've got to change theidiot culture which would want such aneconomy. That's exactly the "revolution"we hope we are in, and nothing less will do.There is simply no point in throwing awayyour Bunny costume only to sit and makemore of the same for others to be caged in.
And, lastly, let me make a plea for tolerance,for comprehension of our humanrange and our positive human possibilities.What was finally most appalling about those
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girls interviewed was the way they projectedtheir own attitudes and needs as therigid and fixed Truth for all women, nowand forever. What both the advertisers andthe missionaries of categorical destructionneed to realize is that human activities suchas religion, art, schools, marriages, friendships,and love are not rigid Platonic Ideasrelayed from a demon god through theirmedia messengers in the popular culture.They are open-ended; they are creative; inother words, they are what the people inthem are able to make them or not makethem. A lot of marriages are miserable, a lotof homosexual relationships are miserable, alot of single people without any ties aremiserable; but, conversely, heterosexualpeople can also be happy, and many are;homosexual people can be happy, andmany are; single people can live full andloving lives, and many do. Certainly if peoplecan only think of themselves and othersin the popular stereotypes, then what theydo together can only be the popular stereotype.We must always keep in view ourhuman creativity, our human freedom, ourhuman range. We must not dictate to eachother. I believe with all my soul, as doesevery reader of this magazine, that womenhave the right to love women (and men tolove men) and that all covert social tyrannyand all overt official law against homosexuallove between consenting adults mustbe struck down. But doesn't the heterosexualor the bisexual person have the samerights to exist and fulfill herself? I andother bisexuals have insisted on our right tolove members of our own sex as much aspurely homosexual people have. No law andno group could keep me from loving awoman. And just as no law and no groupcan keep me from loving a woman, so I willnot allow any law or any group ever to tellme that I should not love a man. Love andsexual patterns of people, whether homosexual,bisexual or heterosexual, are nobody'sbusiness but the people's themselves.Don't we know this by now? Can't we havethe same toleration and respect for othersdifferent from ourselves which we have alwaysasked for? Should I and the woman Ilove abandon the husbands and the childrenwe love and with whom we are deep deeplyhappy just because it is now being pronouncedover us that love does not exist,that child-bearing and rearing are hideous,and that marriage is hell? Exchanging onekind of fat cat Puritan tyrant for anotherkind is not to improve matters. What weneed--desperately need--is to exchangelovelessness in all its forms for love--reallove in all its many varieties: between womenand women, between men and men,between women and men, between parentand child, between youth and age, betweenblack and white, between teacher and student,between worker and his work,between citizen and his community, betweenthe human mind and the experienceof being alive. Nothing short of that will do.
(Lorita Whitehead is 31, a U.S. citizennow living in Vancouver, BritishColumbia. She is a graduate of Universityof Wisconsin, is married andhas two children. She considers herselfa lazy but sometimes publishingpoet" and has appeared in a numberof Canadian little magazines, and inthe States in THE ATLANTICMONTHLY. POETRY NORTHWEST,and THE LADDER.
Ladies, Cowardice Hoes lot Become You
By LENNOX STRONG
The most literate view of the Women'sLiberation movement is not found in theunderground papers and organizationalpamphlets but in the new quarterly,APHRA. Published from the home of EditorElizabeth Fisher, Box 335, Springtown,Pennsylvania 18081, at the modest cost of$3.50 a year, APHRA is named for AphraBehn, the first woman to make her living asa writer.
The first two issues of APHRA--Volume 1,No. 1, Fall 1969 and Volume 1, No.2, Winter 1970 - make it clear that LADDERreaders are, for the most part, going towant this quarterly.
Contributors include novelist and poetJane Mayhall, poet and short story writerJean Garrigue, novelist and short story writerIsabel Miller, and short story writerSylvia Berkman. All of these names are familiaras well to students of Lesbian literature,and the last three named have madesubstantial and excellent contributions tothe field. Indeed, Miss Miller's story "Comingof Age in Pectoral" (APHRA, Winter1970) might well have appeared in the
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LADDER.
. Leading feminist Rita Mae Brown has apoem in the Winter 1970 issue, and readerswill be pleased to read an essay of hers reprintedfrom another liberation magazine inthis issue of the LADDER, entitled "Say ItIsn't So."
The by now-famous liberationist playBUT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR MELATELY? by Myrna Lamb is in the Fall1969 issue. This is not pertinent here, butthe play is excellent.
On the negative side, there are a coupleof snide remarks made about Lesbians inone of these issues. A small point this, but avalid one in any assessment of the Women'sLiberation movement. Only by fully recognizingthe assistance more than available intheir own ranks and elsewhere among Lesbians,will these women succeed in obtainingour mutual goals.
The quality level in APHRA is astonishinglyhigh in so young a magazine, and MissFisher is to be complimented for this andencouraged to reach even higher. Wholly absent,and pleasantly so, is the shrill tonesometimes found in the periodicals that featurenews in the movement. The only lownote sounded, as far as I can determine, occursin the Winter 1970 issue in an articlecalled "The Woman's Rights Movement: 3Views" by Nora Harlow. This consists of acollected review of three non-fiction titlesin the field. One of the books reviewed--EVERYONE WAS BRAVE by William L.O'Neill, Chicago, Quadrangle Books, 1969,is deservedly scored for its "sexist" views.However, in refuting Mr. O'Neill, Miss Harlowmakes the mistake of misinterpreting(to put it charitably) the life of a veryfamous and clearly Lesbian woman, CareyThomas, long-time president of Bryn Mawr.Whether or not Mr. O'Neill is using thecomments on Lesbians being prominent inthe women's movement as a weapon, itdoes not enhance Miss Harlow's rebuttal torefute something that is quite patently trueand, indeed, can be proven.
What it amounts to is this, sisters. Thoseamong you who are not Lesbian would bewise to recognize that some of your bestfriends are, and not alienate them. Ladies,cowardice does not become you.
The Best Women Are Thin And Rich
"Silva Thins are like women ... thebest ones are thin and rich ..," Feel insulted?You should ... on two counts: asa woman and as a consumer.
I haven't made up my mind yet if SilvaThins are symbolically appealing to homosexualmales, with their aloof man whowon't let a woman near his Silva Thins ...or if they feel their "hero" is the epitomeof masculinity. Personally, I find him intolerable.Perhaps that's because I'm neitherthin nor rich.
This is the sort of advertising that nauseatesme. To some, Silva Thins may tasterich ... others (male or female) may likethe size. But what in the world good womenhave to do with good cigarettes is beyondme, and an insult to anyone's intelligence.
What is this big kick that's on to makewomen look like absolute fools? Whiteknights are flying in and out of their windows ...marriages are about to break upshortly before the Man from Glad enterswith his lock-proof, seal-proof, water-proof,mustard-proof plastic bag ... the most importantthing a woman can do is sit arounda card table talking about furniture polish... if your breath is bad he won't marryyou ... and your husband has to showyou how to make coffee because you're aMaxwell House bride. About the best thingthat could happen to a woman these days isto eat Cheerios because they give her gopower. And finally ... there's a cigarettefor the two of you ...
The problem is that it's so subtle. Wecan't see the forest for the trees. Constantlywe're bombarded with these degrading adsto the point that we begin to accept them,ourselves. Striving for identity is a hardthing these days. They pick the most typicalwoman ... put her in the most typicalkitchen ... with the most typical appliancesso we can all identify with her.Rats! I don't want a typical kitchen.
And then there's Rosemary DeCamp,with the Borateem package in her left hand,saying, "Well, you know me ... I like myclothes really white ..." I know her?
It's really getting out of hand, anddespite the Women's Liberation Front's extremisttactics ... I hardly think they'regetting anywhere ... as long as the adskeep telling us that the best women are thinand rich.
(Reprinted from THE WEEKENDER, TraverseCity, Michigan, April 23-30, 1970.)
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Say It Isn't So
By RITA MAE BROWN
Female Liberation in Boston has longcontained some of my favorite people inthe movement. Last November at the Congressto Unite Women the New York radicalsfought side by side with our Bostonsisters to cut through some of the NOWbullshit. We felt good about each other andwhen ten of us went up there over theWashington's birthday weekend, we wereelated. Our joy was short-lived.
Saturday night, Female Liberation presenteda panel discussion that divided betweenMarlene Dixon's endless rap on women'shistory and Roxanne Dunbar. That initself was pretty demoralizing. Ms. Dixonwas at the podium entirely too long. Althoughour patience was strained by thelength of her delivery, our spirits began toshred when we recognized that old professorialdelivery, so popular among malesin our academic whorehouses. I don't liketo be talked at. That whole let-me-tell-you-somethingapproach reeks of male identification.But in all fairness to Ms. Dixon,she may not have had time to discover newways to transmit information. And isn't itpart of our oppression that when given achance we will imitate the male?
Sitting in the big hall, obviously boredbeyond belief, my eyes began to travel theobese,gilt framed pictures of our foundingfathers. There was Admiral Preble, whoeverthe hell he was, and Samuel Choate, GeorgeWashington and John Quincy Adams. Andbehind the mothers of monotonous monologuethere was the largest, most god-awfulpicture of Daniel Webster on the floor ofthe Senate ... body poised in a heroictremble, arm thrust forward and mouthopen. It was his famous "Liberty andUnion, now and forever" address. Just incase people couldn't identify this stirringscene, underneath the picture in large goldletters was "Liberty and Union, now andforever." Above the senators, like a chorusof imprisoned angels, sat the women--allin bonnets, all neatly attentive to the goingson below. What shit, I thought. What real,visible shit. At this point the speakers hadsomewhat quieted themselves and asked foraudience participation. I shot my mouth offwith the following:
Sitting here in this room, looking at allthe pictures of rich white men and simultaneouslylistening (I listened a little bit) toyour rap on women's history, things beginto have a new perspective. Look at the picturebehind you--we are still in the galleryand not on the floor like those women. Itseems very clear to me that no woman inthis room is bound by laws made by deadmen, made when none of us had a voice ingovernment ... laws still preserved by richwhite men today. To hell with those richwhite men. They are polluting our environmentand poisoning our souls. Ourstruggle is against the male power systemwhich is a system of war and death. If inthe process of that struggle we are forced tomutilate, murder and massacre those men,then so it must be. But simultaneous withthat struggle we must also struggle to builda culture of life and love. We must respectand love each other. To date, the women'smovement has consistently rejected womenwho are trying to build a new way of life, alife of loving other women. If we can't loveeach other, if we can't learn to grow together,then we will only have a rebellionagainst the male death culture--a rebellionwhich may be successful. But I think we arecapable of revolution. To love without role,without power plays, is revolution. I believethese are our goals.
This was followed by applause from theaudience and stunned disbelief from thepanel. Ms. Dixon picked up on the struggleagainst the death culture. Roxanne Dunbaralso commented on the battle lines. Thiswas followed by an embarrassing silence.Questions were then hurriedly solicited.Forty-five minutes later, Cynthia Sunstood up and in a low, controlled voice repeatedpainfully:
I'm tired of hearing about the oppressionof women. I'm tired of hearing a slickpublic relations rap that doesn't come fromthe gut. Let's look at the oppression righthere in this room. You women on the panelhave used your heterosexual privilege to silencethe topic of love--especially sincethat topic was love between women, whichwould seem to me to be critical to themovement.
Another stunned silence. Marlene Dixonallowed as how some of her best friendswere homosexual. At this point a womantwo rows in front of us exploded with,"She said it! She actually said it!" Laughter.Roxanne evaded the question again andagain until I yelled, "Your silence is oppressive.Why do you oppress us?" Then she
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delivered what will always be in my mindone of the most incredible raps I've everheard. "Sexuality is not the key issue. WhatI want to do is get women out of bed.Women can love each other but they don'thave to sleep together: I think that homosexualityis a chosen oppression whereas beinga woman is the root oppression. I don'tthink it's that important."
What we all want to do is get womenout of bed. Sexuality is the key of our oppression.We are continually seen in sexualterms, we are defined by our genitals as brutallyas a non-white is defined by pigment,be it red, yellow, black or brown. To ignorethe issue of women loving other women, tolabel it lesbianism and divisive, is to turnaround and define me and all my sisters inthe same manner in which women are definedby men, by my sexual activity andfunction. The only way we are going to getourselves out of the bed is to see each otheras human beings. The entire Haymarketchaos was a vivid illustration of the factthat we see each other as men have taughtus to see. One of the panel said lesbianismisn't an issue unless you wear a neon sign.Can anything more precisely illustrate howwe oppress each other? Why is fighting tohave your oppression recognized and dealtwith, wearing a neon sign? In other words,no one will know you are homosexual unlessyou tell. Bullshit, sisters. One doesn'tget liberated by hiding. One doesn't possessintegrity by passing for "white." We aretrying against all odds--from the male cultureand from our "sisters" in the Women'sLiberation movement--to develop a lifestyle where there are no roles, where thereare no power plays, where a human being isa human being and not a collage of male-identified,half-smashed roles.
After the meeting, women in the audiencecame up to us. Many realized for thefirst time how women tear each other apart.Many who had never given the issue a firstthought identified with our rage. Oneyoung woman said, "I don't know what Iam. But I do know shit when I see it andthey really shit on you."
Another woman mentioned that it wasabsurd to try to divide oppression betweenlesbian and woman's oppression as the twoare solidly intertwined. One woman simplysaid, "Thank you," hugged us and hurriedout.
As we went down the long, steep stepsto the road we talked among ourselvesabout how class split the old feminist movement.Our movement is splitting over the"lesbian" issue, or more precisely, women'soppression of other women. We must dealwith this in a constructive way or we will beat each other's throats just as we were inBoston. For a moment, I thought I heardthe rustle of our skirts. Over one hundredyears ago a meeting of abolitionists wasthreatened by a mob of angry, violent whitemen. One of the men who was an abolitionistescaped through the window and thehall was filled with trapped women. At thattime, each woman took the hand of a blacksister and calmly walked down that samerow of long, long steps through the mob--their courage earned them a safe passage. Ilooked around at my "lesbian" sisters andrealized we were quite alone--the FemaleLiberationists had exited out the side doors,
(Reprinted from RAT MAGAZINE,March 7-21, 1970, WITH PERMISSION).
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Poetry
MY HEART IS STILL A SCHOLAR
I know some day I'll mourn my utter loss
Of fiery passion that you offer me,
And weep afresh on youth's swift-faded gloss
And search the earth alone and hopelessly.
I know too well that I shall blindly grope
And linger on half dazed and half disguised,
Inimical to youth and life and hope,
Denying love, myself always despised.
Do not think the earth would near collapse.
If at this moment I should quit your life forever,
And leave you clinging to some outworn maps
Recalling plans we dreamed in calm despair.
My mind perceives the fate that lies in store,
My heart is still a scholar learning more.Susan Smpadian
Luncheonette
the lonely listeners to jukeboxes,
draped out over the country
on endless counters, drinking
the light liquid speed of caffeine,
dreaming a form on the next
vacant stool, such a long lonely
line of them in the harsh counterworld,
holding hard to their seats, to their songs--
to the place least intrusive in a dreamCarol Lynk
WITH SOLEMN EYES
I know your heart has arms for only God,
With solemn eyes that feast on things divine
And contemplate with purity unmarred
Upon that which will rid your soul of mine.
I know the latent misery and pain
That lies in spiteful blindness to my flesh,
And all those pleasures long forgotten lain
In vice's graveyard cloaked with virtue's veil.
Yet when your eyes dwell longingly on mine,
As two candles that reflect a face divine,
All doubtfulness has made its own decision
To let people come and see in them His vision.
But be not loath to say it is not so,
I am your love, and all you'll ever know.Susan Smpadian
FLIES ...
I have watched them
lazily weaving through
the summer pattern of
the peach tree.I have heard them
droning on and on
and wondered what
they have to talk about.I have seen them
round your head
drink in the wine-sweat,
sweaty saltness
of your body
as you run up the sand-dunes.I have brushed them away
jealously.I have run my fingers
through the golden cluster
of your hair,
bathed in the deep-seaness
of your eyes,brushed away the flies.
Marion G. Norman
Gold
the day's dwarfed hours
slept round three minutes,
grey against gold,
like the clouds around
the space of sky the sun
moved down.
Light split to our time
through the clouds hole,
turning gold
our vision for those moments,
turning gold our memory
of the day.
We woke for a dream, we
who live in the grey, and
drank the nectar
glow of one another's beauty,
turning liquid gold in the sun's
last rays.Carol Lynk
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LOVE'S FORSAKEN FOOL
It cannot matter if I play the part
Of Love's forsaken fool, left lost and blind,
Who seeks in poignant places of love's start
The substance of a dream I once did find.
But still your truant heart succeeds to stir
The shackled memories of days that were
Like scattered leaves my eyes-just chanced to meet
To grasp my mind, and guide my wandering feet.
And now I cannot cry my tears of grief,
For they are jaded things with no sensation,
But slowly like a worm upon a leaf,
They move along a path of desolation.
Your words are echoes now, but do not fail
To soothe this crazed heart's wince, and whine and wail.Susan Smpadian
Feast
The sweetsour savor of secret taste
weaves through our lives, and leaves
false cloths of lovely innocence
to drape upon our tables
set with ecstasy, to hang about us
and keep our hunger hidden.This is how we live, meal after meal
is taken round the magic cloth,
deep in a mad tea party,
till trails of left love stain
and mix new offerings with their
foreign spices, sharpening our tastes.Now we cloy our appetites in ever fear
of famine, sowing seeds
for later feasts against the day
the cloth wears through, leaving
us suspended round the cluttered table,
guilt running from our eyes in tears.Carol Lynk
Summer 2
We fought with the sun for summer,
burning days out with the sun's flame
which we held at either end,
working it to a skein of light
around us, and weaving sturdy
images of ourselves within.
Even in the warm nights,
we'd merge with the glow when,
full with memory of sun,
we burned our eyes on lights
the night threw at us,
and our lids surrendered.
Then melted heavens coursed
as falling stars, still bursting
color at our eyes, which, weighted
down by all that heavy light in dark,
struggled to see us whole
in the blur of the sun-wrecked season.Carol Lynk
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Cross Currents
WOMAN: November 29, 1969. A memberof the Australian DOB group (MelbourneChapter) has sent (by slow mail) anarticle from this issue of this English magazine,entitled simply "Love,". by MarjeProops. The article is excellent in its down-to-earthexamination of a very ordinaryLesbian couple. The author quite franklybegs the audience to realize that it is the"love" that matters, not the biological sexof the partners. From the general tone ofthe material surrounding the article, it isclear that WOMAN is a general magazine forwomen, similar to REDBOOK or COSMOPOLITAN.All the more amazing in view ofthe acceptance registered in this article.
EDWARD SAGARIN VS. FRANKLINKAMEN'Y: SEXOLOGY MAGAZINE: February1970. This issue of the venerable andrespectable magazine about sexuality in humanbeings, features an excellent debate: ISGAY AS GOOD AS STRAIGHT?, with Dr.Sagarin on the "no" side and Dr. Kamenyon the "yes" side. I suspect even the fairlybiased might well opt for Dr. Kameny.
LEO LAWRENCE WINS, ABC LOSES:BERKELEY TRIBE: February 13, 1970.Leo Lawrence, ABC newscaster and writer,was fired by Station KGO in San Francisco.Following this, his union had him reinstated..The day after that, the stationstarted proceedings once again to have himfired. Their charge is simply that he is ahomosexual, and he admits it.
WESTERN HOMOPHILE CONFERENCE:February 13 and 14, 1970. LOSANGELES. This conference, similar to theother regional meeting, ERCHO, was heldat the First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles.Twenty-two western homophile groupsWere present. Highlight of the conferencewas the Keynote Address by Henry Hay,the man who founded the original MATTACHINESOCIETY in 1950. (His address,citing the priority order of prejudice in oursociety, appears in full in this issue.)
KNBC-TV, LOS ANGELES. SPECIALTO THE LADDER: Reporter Lyn Collinscovered the eight-part look at the homosexualpresented February 18 through 27by Channel 4, Los Angeles. This project wassome years in the making, and the final resultswere less than satisfactory. It was, saysMiss Collins, "obvious to any gay viewersthat the show was put together by heterosexualsfor heterosexuals." Only one of thesegments included Lesbians--the February20th airing. Lesbians were attacked morebitterly by the heterosexual male moderatorthan the male homosexuals were in theother segments. The usual idiot conversationabout what makes Lesbians took upmuch of the air time, followed by endlessshots of gay bars, though later the narratordid comment that these "bar types" compriseonly ten per cent of the Lesbian population.A brief shot of an L.A. DOB meeting,including shots of Rita Laporte (whowas imported months ago for the filming)and president of the DOB group in L.A.,Delia Villarreal. The purposes of DOB wereaired, so that was good publicity. A fewshots of an atypical Lesbian couple completedthe segment. Generally bad press.
DETROIT FREE PRESS, BOB TALBERT:March 1970. A nasty quip aboutDOB in this man's column prompted a localDOB supporter to write him a letter. It didnot get printed, but she did get a nice apologyin a personal letter. Wish we could demandretractions, but that day is tomorrow.
BOSTON DOB MAIDEN VOYAGE:March 1970. Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon'sMOTIVE article on Lesbians was reprintedin this issue. This deserves very wide reading,and we are looking into the possibility
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of reprinting in pamphlet form for this purpose
NOW HAS A NEW PRESIDENT: March1970. Aileen Hernandez of San Francisco isthe new National President of National Organizationfor Women, replacing BettyFriedan Mrs. Herandez is an honor graduateof Howard University, with a Master'sfrom Los Angeles State College. She hasheld a number of high governmental appointeepositions, including serving on theU.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission(she was the first woman and thesecond Negro so appointed). Mrs Hernandezindicated in an interview in the SANFRANCISCO CHRONICLE that she intendedto direct NOW more heavily into thepolitical arena and to work to break downits all-white, middle class image. She is, asshe recognizes, a good step in that directionpersonally.
GANDICE BERGEN, San FranciscoCHRONICLE: March 1, 1970.Drama Critic Stanley Eichelbaum interviewedMiss Bergen about her plans--personaland filmatically speaking--and obtainedthis comment: "I have no prospectsright now. Maybe men actually believe I'ma Lesbian, because I played one in THEGROUP. I've been told I was too convincing.I even made the cover of the LesbianReview" (the LADDER, April 1966).
VERY EARLY ONE MORNING INNEW YORK CITY. SPECIAL TO THELADDER: On March 8, 1970, 167 menwere arrested in the after-hours bar, TheSnake Pit. They were held inside the bar foran hour-and-a-half after the raid on the bar,and then arrested, herded into paddy wagonsand taken to the Sixth Precinct station.It must be made clear that the police claimthey are trying to clear up after-hours barswhich are unlicensed and filthy hell-holesby and large, and that they CLAIM they arenot specifically harassing homosexuals.There is strong evidence that this is bothTRUE and NOT TRUE. This particular incidentbecame national news when oneyoung man, Diego Vinales, terrified that hewould be deported (he is not a national)from this country for being homosexual,and apparently wanting to stay here, brokefrom his captors, raced to the second floorof the station, and threw himself through awindow. He landed on an iron picket fencebelow. The fire department and policeworked to free him (saw him loose) fromthe fence, and he was taken to St. Vincent'sHospital with parts of the fence still in hisflesh.
All of the other 166 men were chargedwith disorderly conduct; charges laterdropped, of course--but Diego ... he wascharged with "resisting arrest."
Over 200 men and women, members ofthe Gay Liberation Front, Gay ActivistsAlliance, four or five Women's Liberationgroups, the women's RAT newspaper collectiveand miscellaneous members of variousother groups, including DOB and N.Y.MATTACHINE, gathered to form a protestmarch and marched to the hospital to keepwhat many termed a death vigil (since thehorribly wounded man was not dead, thiswas not taken to be wholly in good taste).Father Weeks of the Church of the HolyApostles offered a prayer for the man, andthe group then returned to SheridanSquare.
As a result of this, the VILLAGEVOICE and a number of other periodicalsfinally had some good words to say aboutthe Village gays, who have been protestingin ways and manners not altogether to theliking of the conservatives.
Very ironically, on the heels of this,New York City's Representative Edward I.Koch accused the Police Commissioner,Howard R. Leary, of permitting the PoliceDepartment to resume a policy of harassinghomosexuals with illegal arrests. Mr. Koch,a Democrat-liberal from Manhattan, madethe statement in a letter to the Commissionerasking him to explain the arrest of167 men at the Snake Pit on March 8.
The whole affair is bound to be viewedwith mixed emotions. The bars being raidedare pits; they are filthy, they are unsanitary,and they do victimize and use the homosexualswho frequent them. The police havesome point in wanting to get rid of them.On the other hand, if there is even a smellof police discrimination against homosexualsas a group, this has to be stopped.Deputy Inspector of Police Seymour Pine,who ordered the raids, said, "Even if I wereanti-homosexual, it would be stupid for meto go after them because they have becomemilitant and well-organized. I am notagainst homosexuals--I am against after-hoursclubs." As unpleasant as the newsmay be, the man's remarks are extremelytelling. We are told over and over again thatthe only way to win your rights (says theEstablishment) is to take them away byforce. Why just being entitled to them isn'tenough, we do not know.
NO EXCUSABLE HOMICIDE: Los Angeles:
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March 8, 1970. Rev. Troy Perry ofMETROPOLITAN COMMUNITYCHURCH led a memorial service for HowardEffland, beaten to death by the LosAngeles Police Department a year ago. Over200 people showed up for the services, heldin front of the Dover Hotel on Main Street,the site of the vicious and cruel death. Afterthe services Rev. Perry delivered a letter tothe Police Station demanding an end toboth entrapment and brutality.
BOOKS TO LIBERATE WOMEN: NEWYORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW: March 8,1970. Marilyn Bender discusses the newtrend in publishing circles to "get" a bookon Women's Liberation in the works. Shecompares it to the rush a few years ago toget books on blacks. Some ten to fifteenbooks are in the works now with the firstone due out in July from Doubleday: KateMillett's SEXUAL POLITICS. And forthose of you patiently waiting, she citespublication date of THE HAND THATCRADLES THE ROCK, edited by RobinMorgan, as due from Random House in thefall, just about one year after original scheduling.
RADICAL THERAPIST: VILLAGEVOICE: March 12, 1970. In Minot, NorthDakota, a group of young psychiatrists andpsychologists are trying to start a monthlyjournal, the RADICAL THERAPIST. Theyhope to reach those who are no longer impressedwith "Establishment" definitions ofmental health, adjustment to society, Women'sLiberation, etc. They plan to publishbi-monthly, with a tentative cost of $6 peryear. They are searching for contributorsand support.
A portion of their statement includesthis: "Therapists by training, what we havebeen taught is increasingly irrelevant in thischanging world. The modes of therapy wewere taught are increasingly revealed to usas biased, elitist, male-supremacist andracist. We are expected to maintain the statusquo and accept our rewards. But this weare no longer prepared to do."
EEOC CITED: HUMAN RIGHTS COMMISSIONmeeting: March 12, 1970. Theminutes of this meeting point out thathomosexuals would be wise to take complaintsto the EEOC (Equal EmploymentOpportunities Commission) for arbitration.
MOVE TO END JOB DISCRIMINATION:San Francisco CHRONICLE:March 13, 1970. The Human Rights Commissionof the City of San Francisco gavebacking to a campaign for city legislation toprohibit job discrimination against homosexualsin both public and private employment.The Commission voted 11-1 to recommendthat the Board of Supervisors ofthe city hold public hearings on the subject.This is an excellent step in the right direction,and Larry Littlejohn of SIR is responsiblefor this action, since he requested theaction at the Human Rights CommissionBoard meeting in November 1969. Thankyou, Larry.
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY:March 14, 1970. According to the DETROITFREE PRESS, this school is takingsteps to stop discrimination against women... good for them.
SISTERHOOD IS POWERFUL: NEWYORK TIMES MAGAZINE: March 15,1970. Susan Brownmiller, in a generallygood essay on Women's Liberation, madethe error of speaking of Lesbians as the"lavender menace." The "Letters" columnof the March 29 NEW YORK TIMESMAGAZINE contains an excellent reply byLois Hart of New York's Gay LiberationFront. Right on, Lois.
A CURE FOR CRIME: DETROITFREE PRESS: March 15, 1970 and on.Norval Morris and Gordon Hawkins, qualifiedlawyers and professors of law, have developeda total cure for "crime" in the truesense. This would involve the substitutionof laws governing only those things that aregovernable, with the resultant ending of thevast majority of unnecessary monies spentin controlling non-criminal "crimes."Among their suggestions are the basic removalof all laws concerning those areas ofbehavior that are not, in any sense, subjectto criminal jurisdiction. These include theobvious: ones: the ending of all laws ondrunkenness in public, narcotics, gamblinganywhere and everywhere, restriction onthe use; of the laws on loitering, vagrancyand disorderly conduct to incidences wherethey actually apply, removing all restrictionsconcerning sexual activities betweenconsenting adults, and the ending of all juvenilecourt jurisdiction over juveniles incases involving anything for which theywould not be in the jurisdiction of theCourt were they adult. Their book, THEHONEST POLITICIAN'S GUIDE TOCRIME CONTROL, was published recentlyby the University of Chicago.
THE PUBLIC SPEAKING GRIND:March 12, 1970, Rita Laporte spoke atAwait High School in Mt. View, California,to over 200 students. Questions came in
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faster than they could be answered. Anadult present commented that today's highschool students are more aware and moremature than yesterday's college kids ...good; After the "formal" session, the classesgathered on the lawn with Rita andteacher Tim Young, and continued the discussionfor another half-hour.
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THEPOWER OF A WOMAN: March 17, 1970.Over 100 women marched into the officesof the LADIES HOME JOURNAL on thisdate and demanded the editor throw downhis typewriter and leave ... leave thewhole thing in their hands. It did not workout quite that way, but when the dustcleared the women had won some very importantconcessions. They were given an entireissue to write and were promised acolumn in each issue thereafter. More importantly,they were to be paid for the writing.This particular event was covered in virtuallyevery newspaper in the country, andmost of the comments were without editorializing,but virtually all of them, atsome point in the write-up, mentioned thatsome of the women were wearing slacks.What we wonder is this: Where do the writerslive between stories that they do not seewomen all over the place wearing slacks?
KANSAS CITY STAR: March 19, 1970.Three members of the PHOENIX SOCIETY,Kansas City's male homosexual organization,spoke before the influential congregationof the B'nai Jehudah. Usualquestions and answers on homosexuality.
AUGUST 26, 1970: THAT IS THE.DAY. CHICAGO TRIBUNE: Sunday,March 22, 1970, announces Betty Friedan'sproposal for all American women to stage asit-down strike on August 26 to bring hometo men the importance of women and theirneed for civil rights. This is supposed to befollowed by an all-night candlelight vigil atthe "halls of political power." Realistically,I giggle to think of the condition of Americanhalls of business following a day whenall the women quit working ... thatwould be some holy mess.
WOMEN IN REVOLT: NEWSWEEK:March 23, 1970. Young Helen Dudar of theNew York Post reported on Women's Liberationfor NEWSWEEK, and did a creditablejob. Unlike many such articles, shemanaged to include a few paragraphs on theinfluence of Lesbians in the movement.Among other things, she quotes Robin Morganas source for the information that Lesbiansare now being welcomed as "sisters"and that the idea of homosexuality is beingconsidered as a means of population controland a path to equality.
BOSTON DOB ON TV: March 25,1970. SPECIAL TO THE LADDER: Bostonreporter Laura Robin covered the appearanceof Boston President Ann Haley onthe WBZ panel show, "On Woman Today,"aired at 9 A.M. over Channel 4. The weekbefore Easter dealt with the topic "Sex,"and the March 25, 1970 segment dealt with"Homosexuality." Guest panelists were, besidesAnn, Dr. Charles Socarides of AlbertEinstein School of Medicine in New York;Rev. Robert Weeks, minister at St. John theApostle Episcopal Church, Manhattan; andFrank Morgan, president of the HomophileUnion of Boston. Questions from moderatorstook up one-half of the program, andquestions from the audience, the other half.Dr. Socarides monopolized the entire hour,driving home again and again his personalview that homosexuals (and Lesbians) arepathologically ill. Even the moderatorsseemed to find him incredible. Rev. Weeksdisagreed with Dr. Socarides, saying thatfrom his experience the problems encounteredby homosexuals were caused by the attitudeof society toward homosexuality. Hesaid he hoped for greater acceptance in thefuture. After Dr Socarides got in a plug forhis new book, Ann Haley got in a plug forDOB, Boston.
VERY BUSY DAY FOR BOSTON:March 25, 1970. Three members of BostonDOB spoke before the unique Brandeis Universitygroup enrolled in a" course entitledTHE HOMOSEXUAL AND SOCIETY. Thiscourse was offered by the university at therequest of the student body, and is the onlycredit course of this nature on the EastCoast. (Editor's Note: There are severalsuch on the West Coast, and we understandthat similar courses are in the works inmany schools across the land). The Brandeisgroup is more concerned with an examinationof homosexuality as a life preferencethan as a clinical study ... GOOD forthem. It is possible that Boston DOB willagain speak to this group. Session consistedof the usual questions and answers on lifestyles.
SAN JOSE STATE COLLEGEATTACKED: March 25, 1970, TrusteeDudley Swim (known for his extreme conservatism)objected to the fact that SanJose State College has a course on homosexuality.The school's president, HobartBurns, said he would have been happier
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without the course, but that experimentalcourses were run by the students and theychose to have it. Right on, babies.
CHURCH FUNDS CUT FOR ALLOWINGHOMOSEXUALS TO MEET:DETROIT FREE PRESS: March 27, 1970.The Episcopal Diocese of Detroit has cutoff funds to the historic old St. JosephChurch and its rector, the Rev. RobertMorrison, for allowing a homosexual groupto hold regular meetings in the church. Rev.Morrison is said to have the "strong supportof his inner-city organization."
SATURDAY REVIEW AND RITALAPORTE: March 28, 1970. TheApril/May issue of the LADDER commentedon the article, "The NewFeminism," by Lucy Komisar in theFebruary 21, 1970 issue of SATURDAYREVIEW. The following letter from RitaLaporte ran in the March 28, 1970 issue:
RE: "The New Feminism" (SR,Feb. 21). I wish to point out a misstatementin Lucy Komisar's article,namely: "The one organization witha constitution, board members, andchapters ... throughout the countryis the National Organization forWomen." There is also the Daughtersof Bilitis with a constitution, boardmembers, and chapters throughoutthe country and overseas. Its foundingwas in 1955, and it has publisheda magazine for women, by women,since 1956.
What women would have thecourage to do this fifteen years ago?Lesbians. We have been challengingthe "sex role system" for millennia.We are neither man-haters norman-lovers, which gives us a measureof detachment in the battle for ourfull human rights as women and aslesbians.
Feminists are fabled not only"aggressive" and "unfeminine," but--and fortunately for us--"lesbians." In their hostile stupidity,men are giving us lesbians a helpinghand. They are forcing feminists (atleast 80 per cent of whom are notlesbians) to recognize, to understand,and to accept the most downtroddenand despised of all minorities.
Rita Laporte
National President,
Daughters of Bilitis, Inc.
San Francisco, Calif.
The LADDER received free publicity inthe first issue of IN UNITY, new publicationof the Metropolitan CommunityChurch, Volume One, Number One. Thankyou.
POTPOURRI: WASHINGTON, D.C.;NEW YORK CITY; DETROIT, MICHIGAN;MIAMI, FLORIDA, and on and on:March and April 1970. Clippings pouredinto DOB (bless all of you) from all overduring theses months, all dealing with variouslocal aspects of women's rights, manyconcerning appointment of women to higher-rankingjobs, political for the most part,and women in "unusual" jobs. Some of theheadlines would have sounded like sciencefiction a few years ago: "FIVE WOMENWILL LIVE UNDER THE SEA"; "FEMALECOMMISSIONER IS CHOSEN INDADE COUNTY"; "HAIRCUT, LADY?OR A SHAVE?"; "UD LAW FRAT FINALLYOPENS DOORS TO COEDS";"FEMINIST EFFORT GROWS IN GROTON";"WOMEN PILOTS?"; "NEED AJOB, MOM? TRY THE TROOPERS." It becomesincreasingly apparent that thoughsmall in numbers and bolstered by only afraction of the male population, the womenare winning in isolated instances all over thecountry. The big headline stories tell only asmall part of the real victories, for it is inthe courts, the individual companies andthe political arenas where the irrevocablevictories will be won.
MONIQUE: April 1970. Theaters allover the U.S. are running this movie. It maybe another skin flick, but some of the commentsmake it sound fairly good. WE ARENOT SURE, but thought you might like tohear about it. It concerns--we warn you--a menage a trois, which is a man's idea, nota woman's, ever.
BOSTON ON THE MOVE: SPECIALTO THE LADDER: April 1970. In the lastyear-and-a-half, five homophile organizationshave started in Boston. Besides ourown chapter there and the often-mentionedHUB (HOMOPHILE UNION OF BOSTON),there is a COUNCIL ON RELIGION ANDTHE HOMOSEXUAL which just began inearly 1970. Of extreme importance, however,in terms of liberalization in education,is the announcement of the formal recognitionby Harvard of a homophile group oncampus. The group is formally called HARVARDGRADUATE STUDENT HOMOPHILEASSOCIATION, but it is simplyanother extension of the many, many looselyaffiliated groups generally called STUDENTHOMOPHILE LEAGUE existing on
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about thirty eastern campuses and a fewwestern ones as well. The Harvard daily,HARVARD CRIMSON, ran an article onthis on February 20, 1970.
L.A. FREE PRESS: April 1970. L.A.DOB was featured in an article in his paperby reporter Verda Murrell, sometime, inApril 1970. At press time, however, we hadnot seen an issue and cannot comment beyondthis mention.
WAGS LOSE, GIRLS WIN, LOVE TRIUMPHS:April 1970. Antonitta Garland,age 23, and Sandy Hagen, age 20, joined theWacs last September 30, 1969. However,Antonitta enlisted in Nashville, Tennesseeand Sandy enlisted in. Brooklyn, New York.Thrown together during basic training, theyfell in love, just like in the stories. Not toolong after they discovered their hitherto unthought-oflife style and mutual love, sodid Uncle Sam, in the form of a friendlyWac sergeant. After that they suffered a lotof harassment. Managing to take leave atthe same time, they just kept on going,heading for California in the belief that "ifthey had a chance anywhere," it would bethere. Never having known they were Lesbiansbefore, they knew nothing of the organizations.Their stopping place was LosAngeles, and they found an ad in the LOSANGELES FREE PRESS for the METROPOLITANCOMMUNITY CHURCH. MorrisKight, a leader in Gay Liberation in LosAngeles and a member of the church, receivedseveral of the "tentative," not-quite trustingcalls the girls made to the churchbefore both sides agreed to meet and talk.
Mr. Kight immediately began arrangementsto get the girls out of the Wacs withhonorable discharges. He talked with C.H.Erskine Smith of Birmingham, Alabama(the attorney in the Wac case covered in theLADDER article, "Wacs Prevail OverArmy," August/September 1969); Dr.Franklin Kameny of Washington MATTACHINESOCIETY, and the ACLU. On February12, 1970 (Lincoln's birthday) Kightarranged with the Army to turn the girlsover to them at 1:30 P.M. in the courtyardof the First Unitarian Church in Los AngelesThe girls were there, the press wasthere, Kight was there, but the Armywasn't.
Negotiations began all over again, and itwas finally decided that the girls would farebest if they were driven back to their originalstation, Ft. McClellan in Anniston,Alabama. They were taken there by privatecar. Verbal assurances that the women wereto receive honorable discharges on March18 at Ft. McClellan were received by thewomen and by Morris Kight. As this is beingwritten, we have no further information,except the pleasant information thatthe girls plan to live in either San Franciscoor New York City and that Antonitta Garlandis an English major and plans to writefiction and poetry. We wish them well andadmire them for their courage. It takes gutsto fight the system in public--at 20 and23, it takes guts.
IMPORTANT REPRINT: COSMOPOLITAN:April 1970. Vivian Gornick's superlativearticle on Women's Liberationentitled "The Next Great Moment in History"first appeared in the November 27,1969 VILLAGE VOICE. COSMOPOLITANcarries it with the title, "The Women's LiberationMovement!" This is must reading,.and the magazine will be easily available tomost of you.
COUNTDOWN 2: April 1970. This is amagazine in paperback form, published byNew American Library. Apparently this is.the second issue of a continuing magazinewhich would imply the first was COUNTDOWN1 (we have not seen it). This issuecontains "Women as Objects, Toys andCommodities" by Uta West, a good generalrun-down on Women's Liberation includingsome nice words on the Lesbian element inthe movement.
WOMEN ARE 38 PER CENT OF THELABOR FORCE: FORBES MAGAZINE:April 1, 1970. Labor Department reportsindicate that between 1958 and 1968 thenumber of working women increased 32 percent to a total of 29.2 million working. Thisis almost 38 per cent of the total workingforce in the country.
KENT STATE UNIVERSITY WOMENASK DOB FOR HELP (KENT, OHIO):April 2, 1970. In a letter to Rita Laporte, agroup of women at KENT STATE requestedhelp from DOB in putting togethera course for credit on Womanhood. Theywish to include Lesbianism in the course.At time of writing they have been directedto the nearest chapter of DOB, Cleveland,Ohio. More on this later.
THE INDEPENDENT FEMALE: VILLAGEVOICE: April 2, 1970, contains ashort notice of this new play now beingwritten for the San Francisco Mime Troupby Joan Holden. This Is said to be a Women'sLiberation play with a heroine namedGloria who gets "fits" of independence.Seems she is Inspired by a "tough Lesbian
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chick" (fellow office worker?). The girlspull off an office workers' strike. Shades ofBetty Friedan's August strike date.
MORE VOICE: Same issue of VILLAGEVOICE (April 2, 1970) reviews a1924 (right, 1924) movie called MAN OFTHE HOUSE by Carl Dreyer. Dreyer (CarlTheodore Dreyer) is a little-known in thiscountry, but this Danish director is consideredone of the all-time great movie-makers.MAN OF THE HOUSE is said to bea Women's Liberation movie, and is supposedto be available for rent from ContemporaryFilms (a New York firm?) on16mm.
DOB IS BUSY IN BOSTON: April 3,1970. The Boston Chapter held a public discussionsession on this date for members ofthe heterosexual community, who honoredthe invitation, for the most part, by failingto arrive. However, a number of membersof various other Boston organizations (primarilymale) came, and the panel of sixDOB members and the audience enjoyedthe discussion.
YWCA JOINS WOMEN'S LIBERATION:UPI: April 5, 1970. Planning theirtriennial convention in Houston, April13-18, YWCA officials announce their unhappinessat being relegated to a back seatin Women's Liberation, pointing out theyhave been in the battle since 1867.
HARVARD AND MANY OTHERS:NEW YORK TIMES: April 5, 1970. Twofeminist groups have charged Harvard,.theUniversity of Maryland, the University ofNorth Carolina and the City University ofNew York City with discrimination againstwomen in admissions, financial assistance,hiring, promotion and pay. We commendthe action taken, but wonder why limit itto those schools? We would be more interestedin seeing a list of schools where thisdiscrimination does NOT exist.
KINSEY AGAIN San FranciscoCHRONICLE: April 6, 1970. As of thistime the well publicized study of homosexualsand Lesbians now going on in SanFrancisco seems to be reaching most of itsgoals. However, they are still desperately inneed of black Lesbian subjects. If you livein the included Bay area, are black and aLesbian and have not been interviewed,please contact the Kinsey researchers at771-0466. (Editorial note: Having workedseveral times in close contact with the KinseyInstitute, as it is popularly known, thereis little doubt but that they will do everythingpossible to present a fair and unbiasedpicture. Helping them is helping all of yourpeople; please do help.)
FOLLOW-UP: NEWSWEEK: April 6,1970. National DOB. President Rita Laportehad a long letter in this issue of NEWS-WEEKin reply to the WOMEN IN REVOLTarticle which ran March 23, 1970 inthat magazine. Text follows:
We Lesbians are not only beingwelcomed into the women's rightsmovement, but, welcome or not,we have been most active thereinfrom the start. Though most of uspass as heterosexual, those of us whocan afford the risk are working in themovement as known Lesbians.
Like our heterosexual sisters, werange from conservatives who preferto work in NOW to radicals who belongto various gay women's liberationgroups. We bring to the movementour unique strengths for thebenefit of all women. And in turn,our heterosexual sisters are helpingus with our particular weaknesses:the fears and insecurities engenderedby the need to live double lives.Great as our differences appear. fromconservative to radical, from Lesbianto celibate to heterosexual, they areminor compared with the forces, asyet more underground than visible,that unite all women.
Rita Laporte, National President
Daughters of Bilitis, Inc.
THE VOICE: ISSUE 98: April 7, 1970.This is a Hollywood-based entertainmentmagazine which we had not seen before. Itis strictly for use in the Los Angeles area.but after seeing it we are wondering why somany people speak of San Francisco andNew York City as the homosexual centersof the western world. In any case, in thisissue, DOB gets a boost, and we are mostgrateful.
ANOTHER RADIO SHOW: BOSTONDOB AND HUB: April 10. 1970. Fourwomen from Boston DOB and one manfrom HOMOPHILE UNION of Boston discussedhomosexuality and Lesbianism withtwo moderators on a closed circuit radio.WCSB-AM at Grahm Junior College in Boston.The two-hour program, from 7 to 9P.M., was the longest session on radio in aseries called "Encounter" regularly held atthe school. It is felt that this particular exposurewas most beneficial for the audience,since it was clear from the telephonecalls from the listeners that many of the
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Common misconceptions were cleared upcompletely in the minds of the listeners.
GROVE PRESS: April 13, 1970. Anumber of women invaded the editorial offices of GROVE PRESS and raised a bit ofhell. Nine of them were then carted off tojail. Primary target is the denigration ofwomen by Grove in their publications andfilms, although other demands were ineluded: day care for children of employees;equal pay for women doing the same workas better-paid male employees--the usualline of protest. As a result of this, nine employeesof Grove were fired, including leadingeditor Robin Morgan.
NBC-TV: April 16-23, 1970: FRANKLYFEMALE, program moderated by BettyGroebli, featured Dr. Franklin Kameny, Dr.Charles Soearides, Anka Ehrhardt and LilliVincenz. Discussion on acceptance ofhomosexuality, with no. difference indicatedbetween the male homosexual andthe Lesbian (despite the fact that this programis a daytime program, geared to andaimed at a 90 per cent female audience).Everything in the discussion and audienceparticipation went well though, reports ourWashington "car and eye," though Dr.Soearides continued his personal vendetta(you may have noticed he goes around thecountry speaking with or immediately followingrepresentatives of homosexualgroups), and the positive portions were thewell-worn ones.
AND STILL MORE RADIO EXPOSURE:BOSTON DOB AND HUB: April19 1970. Guests on the Bob Sterling SmithCOLLOQUY show on WHDH-FM on thisdate were Gail Carpenter of Boston DOBand Frank Morgan of HUB, along with Rev.Robert Winget from the Church of OurSavior in South Boston. Excellent airingwas made of this show, since it was run at 9A.M. on this date and repeated in the eveningat 10 P.M. Primary discussion this timewas on the liberation aims of the homophilemovement in general. Rev. Winget urgedheterosexuals not to seek to impose the sexualitythat feels right for them upon others.He urged churches to welcome homosexuals.(This was the second program in a series,the first having been on April 12 andfeaturing speakers from HUB and STUDENTHOMOPHILE LEAGUE).
LOOK MAGAZINE: April 21, 1970.Someone named Michael Thomas has an"editorial" in this issue on "Battle of theSexes--1970." If there was ever any doubtin any woman's mind just what the averagewell-educated man thinks about women,this is must reading. The naked loathing forany woman who does not get "all wet-eyedand reverent over motherhood" and whodoes not "make you breakfast in the morningand nurse your kids and keep quietwhen the boys drop in ..."
BOUQUETS to Laura Robin of Boston.Laura has been providing the material usedin this column from the Boston area, and ameasure of their usefulness is that she providesabout ten times what I can use interms of space and national interest. Weneed this sort of reportage on the publicservice encounters your local groups have inyour area ... CHAPTERS, ARE YOULISTENING?
NEW YORK CHAPTER: PUBLICSPEAKING. SPECIAL TO THE LADDER:New york DOB President Ros spoke on Lesbianismat the Ninth Annual John HunterFuehs Memorial Lecture presented by theQueen County Chapter of the AmericanAcademy of General Practice on Sunday.April 12. 1970. from 2:30 to 5:30 PALOther speakers included Dick Leilsch ofMATTACHINE, N.Y.. speaking on malehomosexuality: and Drs. Isadore Rubin (editorof SEXOLOGY MAGAZINE). AlbertEllis and Philip K. Kaufman. Dr Kaufmanwas narrator, and Dr. Leo Woolman spokeon transvestism and transsexualism. Over500 people heard the talks, with the majorityof them doctors and their wives. Thissort of presentation helps to point up thedifferences between categories so often confusedin the public mind.
MINORITY STUDY: SPECIAL TOTHE LADDER: April 22 1970. On thisdate two members of DOB. N.V., Julie and(Jinny, joined by two men from MATTACHINE,N.Y., spoke to about 120 womenand two men, all psychology and sociologystudents at the Manhattan College of theSacred Heart, Purchase, N.Y. They werewarmly received and, happily. Julie andGinny were asked to return to speak to anothergroup of girls at this well knownCatholic girls' college in the New York area.
"WHO WILL LISTEN IF YOU HAVE ACIVIL RIGHTS COMPLAINT?" is the titleof a new government pamphlet explaininghow and where to file civil rights complaints.This pamphlet will provide directionfor those with complaints of discriminationbased on race, color, religion or sex.Order by sending 20 cents to the Superintendentof Documents, Government PrintingOffice, Washington, D.C. 20402.
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Readers Respond
Dear Gene Damon:
I'll wager that lesbian pornography fillsa greater need for many of us than simplythe one for vicaries.
Most of us have problems with hostilitytowards ourselves as women and as lesbians,towards the women we love and the worldat large. I think that nowhere is thishostility so obvious as in the intimaterelationships we have with other women.Many viewers of the gay scene have detectedthe explosive elements of gay relationships,and we are very defensive aboutthis. Most of us are well-adjusted enough tokeep those elements operating on a subtlelevel, at least. But it is on this subtle levelthat I have discovered them to be mostenergy-draining, destructive and confusing.
All of us are strongly conditioned byour cultural environment; most of us arenot too aware of how we manifest thisconditioning. So many lesbians share thehistory of early heterosexual involvementsthat were sad, unfulfilling and often damaging;we share this history with many heterosexualwomen, too. Why do some of usbecome repeatedly involved with men, andwhy do some of us become so immediatelyand exclusively involved with other womenin relationships as taut as high wires, livedout on such a tense plane that only twoexceptional, unusually compatible womencan handle until they're able to surpass thatplane?
I believe that we are often negativelyconditioned by the hetero atmosphere.Usually--and especially in thepre-coming-out adolescent years--lesbiansget only encouragement towards heterosexualityand all the trappings of society'srubber-stamp approval of heterosexuality(hetero-dominated advertising, for example).We all grow up with the idea thatit's right, normal and expected that menand women use each other sexually. I thinklesbians often enter into early heterosexualinvolvements because they're encouragedby society, and it's acceptable to releaseearly sexual drives in experimental physicalexpressions with boys. But lesbians--andsurely many heterosexual women--sufferguilt in these relationships, guilt they'reonly vaguely aware of. Some of them knowthat the sexual arousal is not a response tothe boy himself but rather "what he isdoing to her." They know they're using theboy because there's something missing, theemotional involvement just isn't there: theyknow the response is not to man as a realand warm human being. Confused by. aworld that urges her to live out the role ofwoman as man's love object--and man aswoman's!--which the lesbian's instinctstell her is morally wrong, she sometimesenters into her first lesbian relationships inthis confusion which has festered into guiltand even contempt for herself and allwomen. Surely if she despises a part ofherself for having been exploitative--evenunconsciously--she naturally transfers thiscontempt to other women: her image ofthem as a group, and individual women inparticular.
Here is my point: in my own life I'vefound it extremely easy to become sexuallyinvolved with men. I can even make a"pass" at a man, but never, never a woman.Even if I suspect strongly she's gay, I sufferinhibiting guilty confusion that freezes me.The moment of physical expression comesonly after much game-playing, subtle hinting,absurdly and ill-disguised probings. Allof it is energy-draining and destructive andbreeds an atmosphere of coy dishonesty. Incontrast to me, I have found a very fewwell-adjusted lesbians who do not suffersuch paralyzing inhibitions. It is mucheasier for them to come to a woman withdesire. But almost all of them have, at sometime, felt like me. Now, the times I haveidentified with lesbians in either literature,movies (like "The Fox"), photographicsequences, I have experienced suchdramatic release and relief (from guilt?)that it's apparent I'm getting more thanvicarious experience. I need to read goodlesbian literature, and with the inclusion oferotic scenes; I need to see pictures oflesbians together--tasteful pictures--; andI need to see "Gay is o.k." on the screen--for my own sanity! And I suspect that thisneed has little to do with whether or notI'm currently involved with a woman.Surely if I lived on some American Lesboswhere gay was the rule and not the exception,I wouldn't need all this so strongly.But even there I'd need to see my cultureacknowledging the validity of the lesbian
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experience, and in. all the usualtaken-for-granted ways: in advertising, infashions, in positive attention from thenews media, and in the promotion ofhomosexually aware organizations andcauses, of marriage and legal counselling. I'dwant marriage "laws" and other legalprotections for individual lesbians as well ascouples. I'd need--I need!--all this to feellike a human being, a full human being.
And so I say that no matter how poorthe pornography, no matter how tastelessthe advertising, how negative the attentionfrom the various media, right now it all hasvalue. Cultural awareness and acknowledgmentprovide some kind of mirroring for us,and even a distorted mirror is better thannone at all. Surely the mirror will becomeless distorting as awareness of homosexualityand its validity as a human experience-grows,and cultural consciousnessis penetrated by positive acceptance andnot mere curiosity and then indifference.
J.L.
Texas
Dear Editor:
As a member of the Boston DOB I mustask you to withhold my name if you usethis letter. I am wondering why DOB doesnot join actively with the many dozens ofmale organizations (such as HUB here inBoston) to fight for our mutual goals? Andwhy are so many Lesbians interested inwomen's liberation?
I also wonder why you seem so liberal inthe magazine and yet I hear you aren't infavor of our taking a stand on issues like thewar in Vietnam.
Name Withheld
Boston, Massachusetts
(Editor's Note: I am liberal where Iam liberal. I am conservative where Iam conservative. This has nothingwhatever to do with DOB, nor doyour liberal or conservative viewshave anything to do with DOB. Butthe formal answer to your questionfollows).
All of the homophile organizations areprimarily for men except DOB which isexclusively for women. Organizations suchas Mattachine, New York and its newsatellites (of which HOMOPHILE UNIONOF BOSTON, HUB, is one) and other oldline groups (TANGENTS, ONE, SIR,MATTACHINE, S.F., etc.) tend to be apoliticalon the quite reasonable grounds thatmale homosexuals are to be found in everyrace, religion, age group, profession, tradeand political affiliation and that they have,primarily, only ONE thing in common,their sexual orientation, and therefore, onlyONE battle to be fought first.
DOB has always also adopted a deliberateapolitical stance believing that Lesbiansare also as widely diversified. There is,however, one further very basic difference.When all the male groups have achievedtheir rights many Lesbians believe they willalso join in the bounty. There are theoretical,even logical reasons to believe this istrue. It will not, however, do any such thingbecause it will not alter the fact that thefully accepted male citizen in our society isaccorded first class citizenship while womenare still lesser human beings.
For these reasons DOB occupies aunique position in the homophile movement.Long before the Betty Friedan-inspiredupsurge in the rights of womenbattle, we were very active in this area. Many articlesappeared during the very early yearsof THE LADDER on women's rights. Thiswas at a time when you NEVER sawanything about the subject in the generalmedia. A sampling of letters in the earlyissues also shows an enormous concern inthe rights of all women. Women's rightshave a much more direct bearing on thelives of ail Lesbians than any comparableissue has on the lives of male homosexuals.
This leaves us betwixt and between and,we must so remain--allied where mutuallyprofitable with the male homosexuals andtheir organizations and allied automaticallywith the burgeoning drive for freedombeing waged by many thousands of womenall over the world. Regardless of whatdozens of subordinate classifications wemight have we are human beings first,women second and Lesbians third. Wehaven't had to battle for the right to humanstatus for about 400 years now ...we arestill vigorously battling for women's rightsand even more for the right to be Lesbians--freely and equally.
To the Editor:
The February/March LADDER'S comments"on Manfred DeMartino's latest book,The New Female Sexuality, fails to point
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out that this book was not intended to dealprimarily with Lesbianism but rather withnudity. Mr. DeMartino is writing anotherbook which will focus on Lesbianism andwhich presumably will make greater use ofthe material obtained from DOB subjects.
Florence Conrad
Research Director, DOB
Dear Gene Damon:
I didn't care for "Personal File" byCarla (the LADDER, February/March1970). I don't understand bi-sexuality. Idon't believe anyone bi-sexual can be considereda Lesbian. If I wanted to give a copyof the mag to a hetero to help explainLesbianism and this hetero had alreadypre-judged all Lesbians, they would bypassthe truth in the mag and pick this personalfile as an example of what Lesbians are ...kink of flakey people, indecisive, who sleeparound. Her remark about "dismissing sexualfidelity" but believing in marital fidelitymakes no sense (to me) ... and here's thepoint: bi-sexuality can only produce infidelity,and in most cases, promiscuity. This isalso my reason for not caring for this typeof thing in the LADDER. If I were amissionary in the cause of Christianity, Iwouldn't begin to preach it by showing thekilling that has been done in the name ofChristianity. Proselytizing is only done withexamples of good or worth in the belief.How can we benefit by showing the unsavory?Especially when faced with thetype of minds we are trying to reach? Forour readers I guess this type of thing is o.k.,and perhaps has merit ... maybe some canidentify with it (and, I hope, make a moraldecision after reading it), but to reach "theoutside," it won't make it.
Ann Carll Reid
Michigan
Dear Miss Damon:
THE, LADDER has opened a whole newworld for me I didn't even know existedbefore this. That person who wrote sayingthat DOB opened up a new life for her wasso right. For me, for now and the nearfuture till I can get out on my own, THELADDER and DOB are all I have or canallow myself to have. They are the hopeand promise that I may someday find peacein this world. I read THE LADDER eachtime it comes and I become alive. The greatloneliness was near to being unbearable tillby sheer luck I came across the address ofTHE LADDER and DOB. It came at a timewhen I really needed it. Thank you for mylife and peace.
Paula G.
Canada
Dear DOB:
Thanks again for your wise advice andencouragement. It helped me through whatwas a very trying time. I calmed down andrecently met a woman several years olderthan I. Now I am happy, contented, atpeace. I wish I could announce my happinessbut you seem to be the only people Ican announce it to. I wish I were in aposition to tell others who are as miserable,hopeless and lonely as I was, that a littlewaiting, patience, courage as well as painwill make you more ready and able to lovesomeone when you find each other ...
Gabrielle S.
Canada
Dear Editor:
I felt your readers might enjoy this 1946essay (portions) by Dorothy L. Sayers,called "The Human-Not-Quite-Human" andappearing in the book UNPOPULAR OPINIONS:
The Human-Not-Quite-Human
By Dorothy L. Sayers
Probably no man has ever troubled toimagine how strange his life would appearto himself if it were unrelentingly assessedin terms of his maleness; if everything hewore, said or did had to be justified byreference to female approval; if he werecompelled to regard himself,. day in, dayout, not as a member of society but merely(salva reverentia) as a virile member ofsociety. If the centre of his dress-consciousnesswere the cod-piece, his educationdirected to making him a spirited lover andmeek paterfamilias; his interest held to benatural only insofar as they were sexual. Iffrom school and lecture room, press andpulpit, he heard the persistent-outpouringof a shrill and scolding voice, bidding himremember his biological function. If hewere vexed by continual advice how to adda rough male touch to his typing, how to belearned without losing his masculine appeal,how to combine chemical research with
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seduction, how to play bridge withoutincurring the suspicion of impotence. If,instead of allowing with a smile that"women prefer cave-men," he felt theunrelenting pressure of a whole social structureforcing him to order all his goings inconformity with that pronouncement
He would hear (and would he likehearing?) the female counterpart of Dr.Peek informing him: "I am no supporterof the Horseback Hall doctrine of 'gun-tail,plough-tail and stud, as the only spheres formasculine action; but we do need a moredefinite conception of the nature and scopeof man's life." In any book on sociology hewould find, after the main portion dealingwith human needs and rights, a supplementarychapter devoted to "The Positionof the Male in the Perfect State." Hisnewspaper would assist him with a "Men'sCorner," telling him how, by the expenditureof a good deal of money and a coupleof hours a day, he could attract the girls"and retain his wife's affection; and when hehad succeeded in capturing a mate, hisname would be taken from him, and societywould present him with a special title toproclaim his achievement. People wouldwrite books called "History of the Male,"or "Males in the Bible," or "The Psychologyof the Male," and he would be regaleddaily with headlines, such as "Gentleman-Doctor'sDiscovery," "Male-Secretary WinsCalcutta Sweep," "Men-Artists at the Academy."If he gave an interview to a reporter,or performed any unusual exploit, he wouldfind it recorded in such terms as these:"Professor Bract, although a distinguishedbotanist, is not in any way an unmanlyman. He has, in fact, a wife and sevenchildren. Tall and burly, the hands withwhich he handles his delicate specimens areas gnarled and powerful as those of aCanadian lumberjack, and when I swilledbeer with him in his laboratory, he bawledhis conclusions at me in a strong, gruffvoice that implemented the promise of hisswaggering moustache." Or: "There is nothingin the least feminine about the homesurroundings of Mr. Focus, the famouschildren's photographer. His 'den' is panelledin teak and decorated with rudesculptures from Easter Island; over hisaustere iron bedstead hangs a fine reproductionof the Rape of the Sabines."
He would be edified by solemn discussionsabout "Should Men Serve inDrapery Establishments?" and acrimoniousones about "Tea-Drinking Men;" by cross-shotsof public affairs "from the masculineangle," and by irritable correspondenceabout men who expose their anatomy onbeaches (so masculine of them), conceal itin dressing-gowns (too feminine of them),think about nothing but women, pretend anunnatural indifference to women, exploittheir sex to get jobs, lower the tone of theoffice by their sexless appearance, andgenerally fail to please a public opinionwhich demands the incompatible. And atdinner parties he would hear the wheedling,unctuous, predatory female voice demand:"And why should you trouble your handsomelittle head about politics?"
If, after a few centuries of this kind oftreatment, the male was a little self-conscious,a little on the defensive, and a littlebewildered about what was required of him,I should not blame him. If he traded a littleupon his sex, I could forgive him. If hepresented the world with a major socialproblem, I should scarcely be surprised. Itwould be more surprising if he retained anyrag of sanity and self-respect.
Dr. Peck had disclaimed adherence tothe Kinder, Kirche, Kuche school ofthought.
K.A.
Los Angeles, California
Dear Gene Damon,
"The Uses of Sexual Guilt" by JamesColton might be dismissed as an irrelevantbore were it not for its appearance in THELADDER. The Lesbian is starved for meaningfularticles about Lesbians and yet in theone publication presumably by and forLesbians we must be "treated" to yetanother male homosexual exhortation. This,in itself would not be sufficient cause topropel me to write you, for I have becomeinured to the ever increasing spate ofliterature dealing with male homosexuality.
What prompted me to break my silenceis nothing less than fury, fury at the not sosubtle implications that Lesbians are riddledwith sick guilt and that they use sex intwisted ways as outlets for this guilt. JamesColton's analysis of the problem shows hisknowledge of male psychology in generaland male homosexual psychology in particular.I would have no quarrel with hisarticle had he confined himself to the male(though I would wonder what he was doingin THE LADDER). But he tosses in a 'she'or a 'her' now and then, thus betraying hisabysmal ignorance of the female and the
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Lesbian. What right has Mr. Colton to speakof female psychology? "Well, I'm marriedto one, aren't I?" might be his reply.
I am a woman and a Lesbian. I am also aprofessional person, one of those few fortunatewomen whose salary approaches thatof male homosexuals in the professions andwho would lose all should word of herLesbianism leak out. In short, I am asqualified to speak about the psychology ofLesbianism as Mr. Colton is to speak of thepsychology of the homosexual. In addition,having the wisdom of the female, I neverpretend to a definitive knowledge of themale. I let the intelligent male speak forhimself while continuing to wonder at theconceit that permits him, in blind andhumorless confidence, to set himself up asan authority on the female. (It was nice ofMr. Colton to insert the word 'male' before'homosexual' in speaking of the members-onlybaths.)
Now permit me to present the Lesbianside in this matter of sex and guilt. The"woman with brains and ability who nevermakes the top in his [sic] employmentsphere" is, in 99 out of 100 cases, stoppedbecause of her sex. The males, homosexualand heterosexual, who are above her form atightly closed shop to block her advancement.The "obscurity of a low-paying,drudging job" is the best that most women,Lesbians included, can find. And the Lesbian,of all women, fights hard against thisinjustice, fights till fury and frustrationthreaten to destroy her "brains and ability."If she is an artist, she may have toresort to using a man's name. But she willmost certainly NOT blame her Lesbianism.No, the homosexual is not "the mostdisadvantaged of all" for he can enjoy theadvantages of both worlds: the male andthe heterosexual. The Lesbian, particularlythe Mack Lesbian, is THE MOST DISADVANTAGED.At best she can pass as amere woman. She is insecure in her lousyjob. If she wants a political career, forget it.
Yes, I have long known about the malehomosexual who needs the excitement ofpossible discovery to achieve orgasm, soimportant a goal for the male. What has thisto do with the Lesbian, for whom sex is anintimate and; most private expression oflove? She hates any threat of discovery--the merest hint of such a possibility and alldesire to make love dies. Sexual expressionfor the Lesbian has nothing to do withrebellion or conformity, conscious or unconscious.It quite simply expresses love.And love, as opposed to pure sex, does notseek punishment. Nor, for the Lesbian, doessex have a high value of its own. Its valuelies in its deep meaning and joy as thepinnacle of love. Pursued for its own sakeor worse, it becomes nothing less thandisgusting.
The male homosexual in our male chauvinistsociety suffers the guilt of society'sjudgment that he is not quite a full male,not quite the mighty and superior creaturethe heterosexual male is said to be. WeLesbians, being women, cannot hope toachieve the status of mighty maledom, nordo we wish to, nor do we see it as mighty.(I leave to one side the problem of theLesbian 'male' or 'butch' chauvinist, aminority within the Lesbian community.)Our problem is not one of aspiring tobecome fully male, to be accepted asheterosexual males are, but to becomeaccepted as full human beings, to be andremain WOMEN, women different fromother women only in that our emotionslead us to love another woman rather than aman.
Now, why are so many Lesbians still inhiding? Most certainly NOT because theyhave bought "the whole ugly bag of accusations."Some, yes, but most, no. At therisk of becoming tiresome, I must repeatonce again that Lesbians are women, membersof that oppressed majority, secondclass citizens who are not considered"persons" within the meaning of our U.S.Constitution, creatures who have only recentlyin history emerged from that legalclass comprising children, the insane, slavesand women. We Lesbians are born with thishandicap--no male homosexual is. And wemust work, along with our heterosexualsisters, to overcome it. Added to thiscrippling heritage we bear the stigma of ourLesbianism, or homosexuality, if you will.We, intimidated from birth, also fear loss ofeconomic security, a weak security at bestfor all women. In addition, we are generallymore concerned than the male about hurtingour families. These two concerns, veryreal and conscious and in no way "sick,"keep so many of us in hiding. And I am oneof these. Nor am I proud. I am more oftenashamed. My justification is that, should Iopenly proclaim myself, I would ceaseimmediately to be able to do anything at allin the cause for Lesbians. Keeping my job,my status such as it is, and my economicsecurity is all that enables me to workunderground toward that day when all of
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us, Lesbians and homosexuals, may live freeof fear
Hope Thompson
Rhode Island
Dear Miss Damon:
I have lately fallen into a bad humorwith respect to radical activists and havemade a step backward from radical toliberal. Convinced that our society is incritical need of radical change, it is withdisappointment that I observe that thoseelements dedicated to change are conspicuouslylacking in desirable personal qualities.All the way from SDS to GLF one hardlysees anything but psychic and moralweaklings who seek to abandon all personalresponsibility for their existence. Curiously,they all tend to look alike, as physiognomicallyundifferentiated as they arepsychically undifferentiated; in short, characterless.They have little or no sense ofself, and therefore no self-respect, and theydisplay an almost psychopathic disregardfor other's rights. They are compulsiveexhibitionists who will demonstrate at thedrop of a hat without any real cause thatcan arouse public sympathy; thus, thepublic has grown understandably indifferentto the spectacle of demonstrations,which renders useless an important tool forcommunication and (valid) social change.
The GLF and other similar groups havebeen pulling some boners lately that mayresult in reprisals against organized andunorganized homosexuals alike. New YorkDOB itself got a faceful of their contemptrecently. Gay power was up in arms whenthe police raided an illegal after-hours jointoperating without a shadow of a license andarrested the proprietors and some hundredor so male patrons. One of the men, tryingto escape, leaped from a second storywindow and was impaled upon an ironspike of a fence. One gay power groupdecided to run off leaflets to protest, sothey broke into the DOB office and damagedtheir new mimeo which cost thechapter a great deal of money. Their excusewas: dire circumstances justify dire means.An especially annoying fact is that they hadevery opportunity to ask for permission touse the machine and they didn't. Theywould have got permission, too, due to amisguided loyalty I wish I had the power toget straight.
There is no reason why the DOB,chapter or national, should carry men ontheir backs. Why women are so willing tobear this burden is something I'll never beable to understand or sympathize with. Thehot-blooded loyalty that women are boundto display toward men (homo, hetero, bi,poly) is conspicuously one-sided: the mendo the taking, the women the giving.
In spite of real anger it was all the NewYork chapter could do to vote to censurethe offenders, and there were many whoproposed forgiveness on the grounds thatwe're all in the same "thing". What this"thing" is that we're all in, I wish someonewould tell me. There are no grounds foralliance between Lesbians and male homosexuals,no emotional or sexual affinity.The public is already under the impressionthat female homosexuals are merely opposite-sexedversions of male homosexuals,which is a nasty distortion of reality. Itseems to me that many homosexual womenserve the same supportive functions forhomosexual men that heterosexual womenserve for heterosexual men. How silly! Ican't help thinking that if a WLM group hadbroken into DOB and wrecked the mimeothere would have been hell to pay and nomaudlin tears about loyalty and togetherness.
Gay power is a man's thing, with asprinkling of silly women who follow alongon the assumption that whatever the mendo is smart. I heard, one girl say, "I don'tbelong to GLF. I hate it." Nevertheless,most of the women who wouldn't actuallyjoin it feel honor bound to defend any malehomosexual simply because he is "one ofus", a baffling identification. The quality ofa human relationship is the quality of thesentiments invested in it. If the men revealneither hide nor hair of a human sentiment,how can they be grouped with us?
Lesbians should tend their own gardenand stop squandering their resources. Iheard one of the girls telling about a gay girlfriend of hers who was beaten up by a gangof heterosexual males. The account didn'traise an eyebrow. Just let them hear about amale getting beaten up! All the guns roilout in an instant. I just don't understand it.I guess it's, like B. Friedan says: "Womendon't think they're important enough tofight for." It makes me so mad I feel it is myduty to protest in an effort to shockwomen into some sense of proportion. Ifwomen go down fighting, it's a cinch they'llbe championing a cause that is not theirown.
R.B.
New York
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purpose of the
Daughters of BILITIS
A WOMEN'S ORGANIZATION FOR THE PURPOSE OF PROMOTING THEINTEGRATION OF THE HOMOSEXUAL INTO SOCIETY BY:
1. Education of the Lesbian, enabling her to understand herself and to makeher adjustment to society in all its social, civic, and economicimplications--by establishing and maintaining a library of both fictionand non-fiction literature on the sex deviant theme; by sponsoring publicmeetings on pertinent subjects to be conducted by leading members ofthe legal, psychiatric, religious and other professions; by providing theLesbian a forum for the interchange of ideas within her own group. |
2. Education of the public, developing an understanding and acceptance ofthe Lesbian as an individual, leading to an eventual breakdown oferroneous taboos and prejudices--by public discussion meetings and bydissemination of educational literature on the Lesbian theme. |
3. Encouragement of and participation in responsible research dealing withhomosexuality. |
4. Investigation of the penal code as it pertains to the homosexual,proposing and promoting changes to provide an equitable handling ofcases involving this minority group through due process: of law in thestate legislatures. |
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MEMBERSHIP in the Daughters of Bilitis is limited to women 21 years of age orolder. Write to your nearest chapter.
THE LADDER is a bi-monthly magazine published by Daughters of Bilitis, Inc.,mailed in a plain sealed envelope for $7.50 a year. Anyone over 21 maysubscribe to THE LADDER.
CONTRIBUTIONS are gratefully accepted from anyone who wants to supportour work. We are a non-profit corporation depending entirely on volunteerlabor. While men may not become members of Daughters of Bilitis, manyhave expressed interest in our efforts and have made contributions to furtherour work.
THE LADDER and Reno Chapter:
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Washington Station
Reno, Nev. 89503
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1005 Market Street, Room 208
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Cleveland, Ohio 44120
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Australia
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THE LADDER
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Please send THE LADDER for ..... year(s) in a plain sealed envelope
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The Ladder, October-November 1970, Vol. 15, No. 1 and 2
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THE LADDER, published by Lesbians and directed to ALL women seeking fullhuman dignity, had its beginning in 1956. It was then the only Lesbianpublication in the U.S. It is now the only women's magazine openly supportingLesbians, a forceful minority within the women's liberation movement.
Initially THE LADDER's goal was limited to achieving the rights accordedheterosexual women, that is, full second-class citizenship. In the 1950's womenas a whole were as yet unaware of their oppression. The Lesbian knew. And shewondered silently when her sisters would realize that they too share many of theLesbian's handicaps, those that pertained to being a woman.
THE LADDER's purpose today is to raise all women to full human status, withall of the rights and responsibilities this entails; to include ALL women, whetherLesbian or heterosexual.
OCCUPATIONS have no sex and must be opened to all qualified personsfor the benefit of all.
LIFE STYLES must be as numerous as human beings require for theirpersonal happiness and fulfillment.
ABILITY, AMBITION, TALENT--
THESE ARE HUMAN QUALITIES.
ADVERTISING RATES
Half Page | $45 |
Quarter Page | $25 |
Back Cover | $100 |
Full Page | $80 |
Repeated Advertisements at Reduced Rates
CONTRIBUTIONS are gratefully accepted from all who wish to support ourwork. We are a non-profit publication depending entirely upon subscriptions,donations and volunteer labor. If you bought this copy of THE LADDER froma bookstore or newsstand, please subscribe.
(ORGANIZATIONS OR GROUPS wishing to order bulk quantities of THELADDER may do so at the rate of 10 copies for $8.00. Send check or moneyorder with your order to THE LADDER, P.O. Box 5025, Washington Station,Reno, Nevada, 89503.)
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THE LADDER STAFF
Editor | Gene Damon |
Director of Promotion | Rita Laporte |
Production Editor | Hope Thompson |
Circulation Manager | Ann P. Buck |
Production Assistants | Lyn Collins, Kim Stabinski, Gladys Irma, King Kelly, Ann Brady, Robin and Dana Jordan |
Secretary to the Editor | Tracy Wright |
October/November, 1970
CONTENTS:
Can Women Unite? By Rita Laporte | 4 |
Beginning, Short Story by Isabel Miller | 7 |
Questions for Casandra, An Entertainment by Melinda L. Brown | 12 |
Sexual Politics, A Review by Hope Thompson | 13 |
Gemstones: | |
Minor Works of Djuna Barnes, by Carol Lynk | 15 |
Personal File: Four Friends, by Margaret Fulton | 17 |
Dance Lesson, by The Class Workshop. Drawing by W.B.Edmonds | 21 |
Cross Currents | 24 |
Poetry by Lyn Collins, Kathleen McKinnon, Paul Mariah, Robin Jordan, Anne Hayden, Carol Wilde, Martha Shelley, and Georgette Morreaux | 31 |
Lesbiana, by Gene Damon | 36 |
You're Stepping on My Model T, Short Story by Jane Alden | 40 |
Illustrated by Candi McGonagle Good Old Golden Rule Days, by Diana Sterling | 41 |
Illustrated by Kate McColl Readers Respond | 44 |
COVER: Poster from Charon Productions,
P.O. Box 9117,
Berkeley, California 94709. ($2.00 postpaid)
Back Cover: Pappa Cottontail: King of the Bunnies, Song by Winifred GandyCartoons by Jules Feiffer and Candi McGonagle
Published bi-monthly at Box 5025, Washington Station, Reno, Nevada, 89503.All rights reserved. No part of this periodical may be reproduced without thewritten consent of THE LADDER.
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Can Women Unite?
By RITA LAPORTE
We all know the usual answer to thisone. There is no need to list the unflatteringqualities attributed to women that aresupposed to make it impossible for themever to cooperate in significant numbers toaccomplish major goals. This is simply the"nature" of the female. The other side ofthe coin is that she is not very competitive,except in the one area vital to her--catching a man, and hence is not suited tothe rough and tumble world of men wherethe important affairs of humanity are handled.She is neither cooperative nor competitive.But she makes up for this with hermystical gift for serving a man and raisinghis children.
If one is a man, this is a delightful andself-serving "fact" of nature. Aristotle distinguishedthree kinds of people: freemen,slaves and women, all basically different. Ittook only about 2000 years to discover thatAristotle was wrong about slaves. Anygroup has the potential for enslavement ifthe exploiting group is powerful enough.However, about half of any slave populationconsists of men, and it is not altogetherwise for some men to enslave others. Even amale slave is heir in some fashion to themanly virtues and telling him he is not doesnot work forever. Now, females--that isanother story. Anyone can see that they arereally different and hence inferior. For theirown good they must be owned in somemanner by a male. (We will skip theego-enhancing aspect of such ownership.)There is another marvelous thing aboutwomen: they actually enjoy a slave status.They love the protection that belonging toa strong man provides. Every woman yearnsto find her lord and master and it is hereand only here that she understands themeaning of competition. She has sharpenedher wits and wiles over millennia in herfight for survival--snaring and keeping aman.
Men, on the other hand, according toLionel Tiger in MEN IN GROUPS, havelearned to work together, originally in the"vital" occupation of the hunt They haveperfected the arts of leadership and followership.Biologically they are the sex capableof dreaming great dreams and carrying themto fruition, dreams requiring the smoothworking together of large numbers of men.While men look to other men where greataccomplishments are to be wrought, womenlook to a particular man for their protectionand fulfillment, having no mind for thelarger, more important affairs of society.Natural selection over millions of years hasequipped the male for the cooperationrequired to carry out the grand designs ofhumanity. It is thus a scientific "fact" thatthe male is meant to govern and to handlethe vital affairs of society.
We could look at this "fact" in anotherway. Only by banding together and followinga leader can men find strength, for theyare emotionally and spiritually weaker,more dependent and more sheeplike, thanwomen. This animal-like urge to band intogroups, while giving the individual membersa feeling of potency, also necessitates fightingto defend the prowess of their leaderagainst other, exactly similar groups. (MyDaddy is stronger than your Daddy.) Andso flowered the art of war.
Women, on the other hand, are determinedby no such group pull. Women whowish to cooperate with other women do soon the human, not animal, level. Not beingpushed by instinct to fall into gangs behinda more powerful woman, they are free tojoin together intelligently and they are freeto leave the group by intelligent choicewhen they feel the group is up to no good.With no male-like biological compulsion tojoin a herd, they are free to cooperatewhere that is the wise thing to do. Thismakes it impossible for vast hordes ofwomen to be led into activities destructiveto the human race. At the same time itmakes agreement harder to come by. Obeyinganimal urges is easier than makingconscious decisions to follow a certaincourse of action. Living on our distinctivelyhuman, as opposed to animal, level is noteasy. Yet this is what we women must do.We must pioneer a new and better form ofcooperation, a new and better sort ofleadership.
The women's rights, or women's liberation,movement consists of very diversepersons. Outside the movement are millionsof women dead set against it. Switzerlandnow has an association of females dedicatedto defeating the right of Swiss women tovote. What is amusing about these sillywomen is that they will not be allowed tovote against the right of women to vote.Perhaps there is a message here: anti-feministwomen are powerless indeed and we
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should not give them a second thought.Inside the movement it would be folly, apitiful aping of men, to expect to rally allof us behind one leader and one platform.So what do we do, we women who, forwhatever reasons, are driven by discontentwith the status quo?
It is not a foregone conclusion thatwomen will free themselves from slaveryand usher in a better world for all. What aresome of the pitfalls awaiting the women'smovement? I have thought of some simplyby observing my own reactions to articlesabout the movement. I find myself becomingfurious at times, for a moment forgettingthat these writers want essentiallythe same things I want and that, beyonddisagreement on many levels, there is a veryreal unity of purpose among the awakeningwomen of the world.
As a Lesbian I especially fear a splitbetween heterosexual women and Lesbians.Not only are Lesbians hated and feared bymost women, but many Lesbians lose nolove over their straight sisters. All of us,straight and Lesbian alike, have heard muchabout how terrible Lesbians are. We are theonly really "respectable" scapegoats left.For me at least this side of the split hasbecome one big bore. I can no longerbother to get angry at such ignorant,heterosexual drivel. But the other side,what Lesbians think of straight women, isseldom heard. While these women damnLesbians without fear of reprisal and out inthe open and earn points from their menbesides, Lesbians are quite capable of givingas good as they get. So far they do this inprivate, among themselves. What we all, atone time or another, think of straightwomen is hardly flattering. The straightwoman is a weak-willed jelly fish endlesslyfawning on the almighty male whom shefears and hates and treats with unboundedcontempt. But she dare not let him knowthis for he is her meal ticket and she will doanything to insure her own survival, shortof standing up to him. She is the ultimatehypocrite. If she can wangle a few rightswithout angering him, fine. If not, she willretreat.
Gloria Steinem is quoted in Time, August24, 1970, as saying, "Men think thatonce women become liberated, it will meanno more sex for men. But what men don'trealize is that if women are liberated, therewill be more sex and better." So there wehave it from the heterosexual woman'spoint of view: "I'll make a deal with you,dear. If you allow me more freedom, I'llgive you more and better sex." What asellout! It has been my conviction all alongthat the reason women should have equalrights and responsibilities in a world ofhuman beings is that they are humanbeings. As a Lesbian I am nothing less, oneof God's children, a subject in my own rightand an object to no one. I would be the lastwoman to promise better sex to men in thehope they would give me a little morefreedom. Freedom is not something I haveto pay men for--it is my birthright.
It is this attitude, this fear of displeasingmen, that worries many Lesbians in themovement. Will straight women eventuallygive up as men, notoriously unchivalrous,fight back more and more below the belt?There is a large reservoir of goodwill in thehearts of feminist Lesbians. We ache to seethe unhappiness of so many of our straightsisters, to see how men take advantage oftheir goodness. But this reservoir is notinfinite. I have often found myself trying tojustify the ways of straight women to angryLesbians. I cannot see either Lesbians aloneor straight women alone succeeding in therevolution for greater humanness in allpeople. We Lesbians are fewer in numberthan you heterosexual women, but wemake up for this by our greater determinationto live whole and free. Men give usnone of the questionable advantages theygive to straight women nor do we desirethose "advantages". We are committedfrom the start to total victory. Compromisewith members of the ruling sex does nottempt us. We look to the day when we canconverse with men and women and enjoythe company of people who are no longerbound up in heterosexual chauvinism. If aby-product of this human maturing is moreand better sex for the sex-starved heterosexualmale, find and dandy. Better still,perhaps a result will be better LOVE for thesex-strangled male.
Lesbians, being unconcerned with thelibidinal problems of the master sex, arenevertheless unavoidably entangled withthat sex, employment being a prime area.Here we have to swallow arguments applicableonly to heterosexual women employees:Women are just marking time on the jobuntil they find a man and/or begin breeding;it is bad business to give them managementtraining or to consider them forpromotion. Try to imagine the fury andfrustration of the Lesbian when she hearsthis. If she speaks up to say this has no
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bearing on her, she is fired on the spot. Shesays nothing and seethes. She knows sheand her Lesbian sisters are a major factor ingiving women in the labor force a goodreputation, while many of her heterosexualsisters drag that reputation down. Smallwonder that some Lesbians come to hatestraight women, not as straight women hatelesbians--out of ignorance--but out of arealistic appraisal of the facts. This kind ofdivisiveness, Lesbian against non-Lesbian,must be overcome and can only be over-comeby goodwill on both sides.
There are other areas of divisivenesshaving nothing to do with the Lesbian-heterosexualdichotomy, a dubious dichotomybased upon male chauvinism in thefirst place. An area that particularly gets mydander up is the notion that only Socialism(whatever that is--the articles never say)will free women from male exploitation. Iam a little surprised that otherwise brightwomen should slavishly follow the thinkingof an old, 19th century male or somecurrent "In" neo-Marxist. This is somethingof an emotional reaction on my part for, iffollowing some old or new male is correct,then so be it. An idea is not to be discardedsimply because it sprang from a male brain.(In my youth I thought all good ideas camefrom men only). No, my objection has, Ithink, good logic, or I should say, good"psycho-logic" behind it. I see the humanbeing as the basic unit in any society and inany political system. A social system can beno better than the people who make it up.And people are plagued with ignorance andstupidity, with selfish ambition, with cruelty,with hatred, with fear, with their veryfinitude in all directions. A political systemcan be better or worse, but it cannot createhuman nature.
We are, all of us, still prone to magicshibboleths and incantations. MARXISM!Che! Mao! (I can almost hear Red Chineseyouth crying, out of earshot of governmentofficials: CAPITALISM! Nixon! Goldwater!)I expect this from men, the sex moregiven to magic, to secret societies, tofraternity foolishness. I am saddened andalarmed that so many otherwise liberatedwomen should stoop to this. Join the classstraggle (in a country where most of us aremiddle-class?) and wipe out exploitation,the profit motive, the desire for success andwho knows what other human traits! Someof what I read sounds as though I myselfshould be destroyed in the interests ofwomen's lib. I came up the private schoolroute, governesses, Europe, college andgraduate school--hardly the desirableworking class background. Whether thecurrent crop of revolutionaries would forgiveme this in light of my having driven astreetcar and worked in factories, I cannotsay. This reverse snobbism can be morevicious than the common variety, for thoseused to power wield it with more humanenessthan those who suddenly acquire it.
I know a good deal more about humannature than about political systems and amfrankly out of my depth with the latter. Ithink of a political system as a means ofconcentrating power in order to accomplishthe goals of society. I have no idea what"Power to the People" means. If everycitizen has the same amount of power asevery other citizen, no one has any power.How can 200,000,000 individuals takeequal part in the management of ourcountry, from deciding Supreme Courtcases, to voting on federal and state laws, topassing local ordinances, to running corporations,to setting up medical standards, toputting out a new Betty Crocker cake mix...The problem here is one of Power.And power is dangerous. Some womenseem to be saying that we must abolishpower. The only way I know of abolishinghuman power is to abolish human beings.
Any group of people will engage in someminimal cooperation and will decide insome fashion who is to, do what. Unavoidablysome individuals acquire more powerthan others, even without meaning to. Oneman throws his spear farther and moreaccurately than another. One woman growsbetter vegetables than another. Someonemakes a better basket. A social or politicalsystem evolves with some people morehighly regarded than others. Elitism rears itshead. This is a dirty word today, but elitismis not bad per se. It is so only when the elitein question is based upon false values, asmany elites are today.
We are not born equal in genetic endowment,something no amount of social reformor radical revolution will eradicate.Some people will become better at certaintasks than others and some people willgather up more power than others. Power inthe right hands is all to the good. Power inthe wrong hands must be combated. Wewomen must think out the problem ofpower--perhaps we can bring to it somenew solutions. But it is no solution to try totear down women who have gained ameasure of power within the heterosexual
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male establishment.
I have noticed a curious developmentamong some women and one I find amusing.In their fear of power they havedecided to remain anonymous, to refuse tospeak up in public or to give interviews tomembers of the media. If all of themcannot be equally famous (or notorious),then none will be, for fame, even short-livedfame, brings with it a measure of power.But this strategy does not seem to apply towomen who have been safely dead for sometime. On the contrary, the prominent womenof the past, particularly those who spokeup on behalf of women, are written aboutand admired. We women DO have a historyand one to be proud of. Must our leaders allbe dead before we are permitted to admirethem? Cannot we allow ourselves to havesome live leaders?
What is this fear of leadership? Again,leaders, the embodiment of power, can bedangerous. But how can we do withoutthem? To go back to what I said in thebeginning: women are not instinctuallybound to follow leaders. We must use ourminds in deciding which potential leaders tofollow. We are free to choose some andreject others. We are free to follow leadersin part only. We can follow some here andsome there. I can follow a Lesbian-haterwhere I find common ground with her. Wecan differ over which intermediate goals aremost urgent: acceptance of the Lesbian,repeal of all abortion laws, child carecenters, equal employment opportunities,etc. There is no reason why we should allagree on priorities for we cannot all of us beworking in all areas at once. Underlying allour disagreements, even our rages at oneanother, there is unity and we all feel itdeep down. WOMEN CAN UNITE!.
Beginning
By
ISABEL
MILLER
You say, "They show what becomes ofpeople who have no spiritual life."
I say, "No spiritual life!"
"Irene said herself she's not a Christian.And certainly she's done things a Christianwoman wouldn't be able to do. Mostun-Christian women couldn't for that matter."
You have not understood her. You havegot hold of a few externals and shut yourmind to all the rest.
I say, "You might equally think thatbecause she was sustained by the greatspiritual force of love, she was able to takea moral action that saved the lives andhealth and happiness and sanity of severalpeople--her children, her ex-husband, hisnew wife, herself, Laura. How many's that?Eight"
But my heart is out of the argument. Idon't really hear you, your words. I hearonly that my friends don't delight or moveyou, that you don't approve of me or them,that you wouldn't want for us a life liketheirs. Well, I must be reasonable. I havespent six weeks in refining and defining myfeeling for you. Shall I call those six wastedweeks? What might I have spent them onInstead? And haven't they been, often,blissful? Should I regret the hours I spentwondering what it meant that you caughtmy cold foot and warmed it in your hands?
From far away I hear you. Somethingabout evil not being able to produce good,something about our having only Irene'sown assertion that everything worked outwell for everyone.
I say, "We have only her assertion forany of it. If she didn't say there'd been adivorce, we would have no way of knowingit. Believe one, believe the other. Is she areliable reporter of her own life, or isn'tshe? To me she seems reliable."
"And those are your friends!"
"Yes!" I say. "And I think most peoplewould honor them and honor me for havingwon their friendship."
It is done. There will be nothing. Howcan I live without your caress to imagine?In these six weeks, such dreams havebecome the breath of my life.
Can I claim you led me on? Yes and no.You piled hope on me with one hand butunloaded it with the other. I suppose whatyou put me in would come close to beingliterally a flap--back and forth, the windsof hope and despair. And now it will beonly despair, my emotion a limp rag,broken balloon, sagging in one dull position.
The cab leaves us at my building. Youpay the driver. I go up the steps and unlockthe door. I wait. I am not certain you willcome in. The cab drives off. You stand atthe bottom of the steps. Perhaps you needan Invitation. I can't speak. I hold the doorinvitingly as though I expect you. Awkwardlyyou climb the steps. Stumble. I amreminded of the many times I've stumbled
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in walking with you--how awkward onecan be on feet numb with love and doubt.You are awkward. You are a big lady, tall,and fond of food. At her age, you will be amagnificent mountain like Irene. It's onemore reason you should have liked her.
I thought we could make a long happylife. I thought it was hopeful that it's takensix weeks, which have made me love youmore and more. I spoke to Irene of the timeit was taking, as a good hopeful thing, andshe said yes but not necessarily. She saidthat she had loved and waited for years andended with nothing, nothing at all, not evena kiss after years of waiting love. So it cango that way too, she thought I shouldknow. Now I will have to ask her whethernot having had a kiss makes it easierafterwards. I think it must. She told meonce that it's harder to give up real childrenthan imaginary ones. That was to suggestthat I should know myself now and choosewhat I really am. And it's probably likewiseeasier to give up a fantasy kiss than a realone.
Well, so much for the ouija board. Isuppose Laura pushed it. It said, yes, you'regay. It said introducing you to them wouldprecipitate our love, but it would be up tome to make the first move. In my fantasy Ican easily approach and touch and hold andkiss you, but in life the ouija statement isridiculous. You are a scholar, you are tall,you are four years older than I, you pay thecab, you buy the theater tickets, you pickup the checks at dinner. It isn't possiblethat if you loved me you wouldn't be ableto move towards me.
You sit on my couch. I used to plot howto get you there, keep you out of the chair,make you sit beside me. You go there nowby yourself. "Drink?" I ask.
"No. Thanks. I can't stay." But you dostay.
"I'm sorry the evening was such a bust,"I say.
"I knew we shouldn't on a Friday. Thefish and everything. They didn't reallyrespect that. And I doubt you did either. Iresented, I must admit, the three of yousitting there boasting of the religions you'veoutgrown, so confident that in time I maymature to apostasy too."
"I don't think that was meant."
"Have you considered that I may not?"you say. "Do you ever seriously think that Jmay have found the true faith and that Imay keep it? And that I may want friendswho respect it? And that I may not want toshare my life with someone who is justwaiting for me to get over it?"
No, I haven't thought of that. But Ithink I won't say so. Could I become aCatholic for you? I don't know. Laura hasmade an occultist of Irene, but I doubt itwas set up as a pre-condition.
"People who love begin to agree, Ithink," I say. "I suppose your faith wouldinfluence whomever you lived with. Irenehas taken up Laura's superstitions--says,'Bread and butter,' like a child now."
"Catholicism is not a superstition."
"That was just an example,. Why are youtrying to pick a fight?"
You are quiet. I think I know why youwant a fight--so we can make up. I say, "Ithink I'll have a drink."
"Then I will too."
I go to the kitchen. Make drinks. Youstand in the doorway watching me, but as Icome towards you, you fade back to thecouch. I wish I knew what to do. I set thedrinks on the coffee table.
I say, "I'm sorry you don't respect theirlife. It's what I'm looking for, I think."
"I didn't say I didn't respect it."
"Oh, I thought you did."
"It tempts me very much. Perhaps as anidea more than as a real thing. I would hopethat even living such a life, I could be aChristian good person and do some good inthe world. They seem completely unawareof anything that doesn't relate to their own--peculiarity. I wouldn't want to be asnarrow and cut off as that. I would want tolive in an ordinary house in an ordinary cityand move among ordinary people. They'vemade their own little false world as thoughthe sexual function is all they define themselvesby and all that interests them aboutother people."
"You misjudge them. They're interestedin more things than anyone else I know.Economics, politics, art, history, architecture,music, the occult, psychology. Whenthey take me walking in New York, I realizeI've spent my life with my eyes shut."
"And yet they live in a homosexualneighborhood and devote the evening theyfirst meet me to a discussion of what onewould hope were intimate and painfulrevelations, which I have not requested, andI do not speak in kind."
"They were talking to me. They wereassuming that I'd told you about them,which I had."
"Where did you meet them?"
"Where? At their house. I was taken
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there by a friend."
"What friend?"
"Barbara."
"I've wondered what she is to you."
"Was."
"Was she?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"A few months. Summer to summer. Ayear."
"What happened?"
"Intimate and painful revelations--haven't you just told me you disapprove ofthat kind of talk?"
"Only from those I've just met. Tell me.Why did it end with Barbara?"
"Many reasons. We never did get along.The last thing was that she wasn't--faithfulto me. So I left."
"Did she want you to stay?"
"She didn't want to fail again. In thatway she wanted me to stay. It wasn't reasonenough. I thought if I had to suffer anyway,I might as well have some of the positivethings of life. Like children. Like money.Like a respectable home."
"Like marriage."
"Yes. That's what I thought. Sufferingbeing my fate, a loveless life. Have thoseanyway. And there were plenty of menready to oblige me. And no women toconfuse me."
I stop. You know what comes next. One
of us should say, "Until--" but neither ofus does.
I say, "I talked with Irene and Lauraabout it. I thought Irene's life might be myguide. I might go her way. She's had it all--the whole range. Life can go that way. Sheproves it. But she doesn't recommend it.Even though some of us think it ended wellfor her.
"What does she recommend, as though Ineed ask?"
"I said nobody interested me. She saidwhen I became internally ready someonewould."
"Such as Herself?"
What! You don't know anything orunderstand anything or deserve the eveningthey gave you or the weeks I kissed mypillow calling it by your name. I unnamemy pillow, I call back my love.
Oh, God, despair. Not to love you orhope for you or wait for you or plan foryou or wonder what you mean and whyyou keep me waiting. There has been morepleasure in waiting for you than in embracinganyone else in my whole life. Not lovingyou brings back all the clouds and knotsand griefs I ever fought against. I suffocate.I die. I would try to drink my drink but Ithink I would choke.
We sit side by side on my couch, whichis my bed. I am unable to speak, and forreasons of your own you don't either.
My cat jumps to your lap. You pet himalthough you don't like cats. Just tonight,at Irene and Laura's, you said, "Well, I likeTigger but that's because--" and then leftthe sentence for me to finish in my heart.Many times you've petted him on my lapand caught some of my leg or hand in thecaress.
I watch your hands. Skillful, stronghands. Short nails, no ring, no polish. Theyare hands I dreamed would heal me. Tigger'shairs fall and cling to your dark slacks. It'swild to have a cat. I think I'll try to getBarbara to take him back Hairs on myfurniture, on my clothes, cat food in myrefrigerator, kitty litter in my bathroom. Itis mad. I think I will make my life verystripped and simple and get a lot of sleep.
You say, "I see I made you angry."
"No. You just remind me that there is areason, after all, why I spend twelve hundreddollars a year on a shrink. I wasplanning to give him up. I felt so well."
"My heart's just held together with alittle spit and brown paper, too," you say.
"Don't you see how scared I am?"
I reach out and lay my hand on Tigger'sback. Your hands are very near and do notmove away. Awkwardly and anxiously Icapture one. You let it lie in my hand. Itake courage to improve the relationship, tobring them palm to palm. Experience withmen makes me so afraid; so many times Ihave let my hand be taken and felt onlyboredom or oppression. I couldn't bear tomake you feel such things. My sins ofinsincerity are coming home to roost.
I am not ready. I cannot immediatelyrecover from the despair of so few minutesago. Memory must guide me: until youspoke against my friends and the kind oflove they symbolize, I longed for you.Somewhere inside I still must long for you.If you will receive me now now is the timeeven though I have to so by memory. Iremember many times that would havebeen better: the night we watched TV andyou almost put your arm around me butthen played with the ornament on the wallinstead; the many nights you have said youwere leaving and then loitered against thedoor unable to go; the afternoon you
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warmed my feet. If I had let you catch myeye any of those times, we, would bealready begun and not have this doubt andpain to go through.
Since it was I who held us back before,you leave it to me now. I have never donethis, darling! I have only waited and letthings happen.
Still holding your hand I lean againstyour shoulder. Because you do not move, Itrust that you don't object. But what athing to trust in a woman! I turn my face.It is at the level of your neck, which is agood place to kiss you, so I kiss you thereand you sigh and tilt your head back to giveme your whole throat. The wonderful flowof power and possession and desire I feel atthis sweet gesture makes me sure that I can,after all, be the one who makes the movesand starts things. It is easy and natural nowto get up on my knees and lean above yourlifted face and take your glasses off and kissyour eyelids and face and mouth.
I feel a nervousness in you and I let yourmouth go so you can tell me why. Yourglasses worry you. What have I done withthem? Have they fallen? Am I bendingthem? I say, "No darling." I show them toyou. "Look, not even smudged." But toease you I put them on the table beside ourevaporating drinks. We laugh. I like youvery much. I say, "There's nothing thematter with either of us that a year or twoof happiness won't fix."
You say, "This is terrible. I'm going tofall in love with you."
"You already have. It's all right. I won'thurt you."
"I'll just want to make love all thetime."
"That's not terrible. That's nice."
"But I won't want to work and I won'tget the good of my fellowship and it'll beawful."
"And I'll have to take care of you. Ithought I was the baby and you were thegrownup, but it's the opposite. You're alittle lost child and you need me and I'mhere and I love you."
Something in you draws back. Have Ioffended you? No. I think I have saidsomething you've heard before. Jesus God,who do I look like? Who do I sound like?Does my kiss feel too much like somebodyelse's? Can't we have fifteen minutes withoutproblems?.
Gently I press your side to lay youdown. You resist and then go. I lie againstyou, petting and, kissing. Tigger leaps to thecouch back and watches. I'd like to bewatching, too. I have never seen two womenkiss. It must be nice to see. I wish moviesshowed it. They show other kinds of love.Why not ours?
I consider opening your shirt but youpress so close that I think you don't wantme to. It's all right. There's plenty of time.As many as sixty years maybe. Twenty-fiveplus sixty equals eighty-five. Twenty-nineplus sixty equals eighty-nine. Quite possible,as healthy as we'll be once we gethappy.
But you are crying. My cheek is wetwith your tears. How bravely you cry,without a sound.
I say, "What is it, angel?"
"I have to sit up. My nose is plugging."
I let you up. You sit very straight.Tigger jumps into your lap. I go get you aKleenex.
I say, "What is it, baby?"
"I find. That. In my heart. I am. Marriedto someone else."
I wait.
"A girl. Woman. I knew at school. It wasvery hard for me. Because not natural, youknow. And the Church has no sacramentfor it. But I needed it. And maybe Irationalized or something--I came to feelthat it was somehow a secret sacrament andno more unacceptable in the eyes of Godthan any other childless marriage. Becausewe didn't avoid children, we just couldn'thave any. Through no choice of our own."
"Where is she now?" I ask.
"She's in Chicago."
"Chicago! Then you saw her lastmonth."
"Yes. She said it's definitely over."
"Only last month!"
"Nothing's happened between us fortwo and a half years but I always felt itwould again, you know?"
"But now you love me," I say. "It's allright. I still loved Barbara until I began tolove you. It always overlaps. You can'texpect to stop until you have someone else.That's why you went there, to be divorced,so you could love me. And now you do."
"That's not the point. She can divorceme, but I find I can't remarry."
I shake my head and reach for my drink.It is mostly melted ice, but it helps. It keepsme from saying this is a conversation toosurrealistic to keep track of. It keeps mefrom saying, well, nobody can say you'reone of these no-good, reckless, irresponsible,amoral modern kids. I feel many such
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unwise thoughts crowding to be said.
"Can you have a roll in the hay?" I ask.I may as well have said the other. Before Ican hurt you more, I go to the bathroomand wash my face and breathe a while andcomb my hair.
When I come back, you have your coaton. "I'll phone you," you say.
"All right."
You have never got away so fast before.You are in the hall when the panic hits me.I run to the door and call your name. Youcome back. I kick the door shut andstumble into your arms. Your big bodyenfolds me. You kiss me a long achinggoodbye but afterwards you still say, "I'llcall you.'.
It is morning. I haven't slept. I wait forit to be late enough to call Irene and Laura.They are my mothers and will comfort meand tell me everything will be all right andthat I will soon be happy. At ten I can waitno longer. Irene answers, not crossly butstrangling with sleep. I choke and saynothing and hang up. Ten o'clock onSaturday morning is too early to call eventhe fire department.
So I call the shrink at his home inConnecticut. This I may do because I payhim twelve hundred dollars a year to bethere for me to lean on. He too is sleepingbut I think of the money and have no pity.I am crying, I find. He makes me veryyoung. I curry favor.
"You'd better come up," he says. I amto go to his house and we'll talk it over.He'll meet me at the station. I suppose I amto see a healthy household and be given apill and watched. A good enough way tospend a Saturday I have no possible use for.
From Grand Central I phone Irene andLaura again. Irene answers, still asleep,although it is now eleven. But since I can beno other inconvenience all day, I am boldand speak. Her voice brightens. She calls medear. (She would have done the same atten!) I say I'm on my way to Connecticut. Isay the ouija was right in saying I wouldhave to be the one to start it. "Then it hasstarted--how good," she says.
I say, "Well, there are problems. What'sthe noise in the phone?"
"Pay phones always do this. It's nothing."
"What did you think of her?" I ask.
"Well, I'm not a quick judge. I liked her.I felt she's someone who doesn't have tohave everything her own way--who candiscuss. And any problem you can discussyou can get somewhere on."
"You think so?" I say. Oh, poor Irene,liking you and being judged by the SpanishInquisition in return!
She says, "I regret I yattered so much. Iwas so curious about her I was afraid I'd tryto pump her if I didn't yatter." Non-Christianshave morals you wouldn't understand.
I say, "What's the clicking in thephone?"
"It's signalling the operator to make herask you for a nickel."
"I have to go. I can't talk on thisphone."
"How long will you be gone?"
"Till Monday morning," I say and wonderwhere that came from. Yes, it is what Iwant her to tell you if you ask her where Iam.
"Call us when you get back, please."Her voice is loving and concerned. Shewould have been this way at ten.
But the train is a good enough place tobe. I get glimpses of the Sound. I need thesight of water. I need to walk and get verytired and think. I need to decide how manymore times I can let a woman break myheart before it breaks beyond repair.
I will rent a hotel room in Connecticutand walk and get very tired and not comeback until Monday. I want you to ring andring my phone and lurk at my door. If youask Irene and Laura where I am, I will knowthere's hope for you and me.
(Isabel Miller, frequent contributor toTHE LADDER, is the author of thepopular Lesbian novel, A PLACE FORUS. Under her own name, she is anestablished novelist and short storywriter. Her story, "Hope Deferred",appeared in the February/March 1970issue of THE LADDER.)
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??? QUESTIONS for CASSANDRA ???
By MELINDA L. BROWN
Dear Cassandra,
I am just desperate, I don't know who toturn to. My girl up and left me, my dogdied, my mother won't let me in her house,and I think the boss is about to up and fireme. I don't see no way out except suicide.Please help me.
Ugly To Boot
Dear Ugly,
You really are in sad shape. Luckily, I havethe perfect solution to your problems. Signup immediately for a remedial Englishcourse. (Your grammar and punctuation areincredibly incorrect, dear.) Pray that youhave an attractive female instructor. Afterthat, you need have no fears. The educatedperson always succeeds.
Dear Cassandra,
What about joint checking accounts? Wehave been together for five years and can'tdecide if we should have one or not. Weargue all the time.
Rose and Lily
Dear R and L,
I advise against it. Obviously the two of youneed something to quarrel about, and thechecking-account problem provides a subjectfor your arguments. Just think, if youever decided one way or the other, you'dprobably break up. Don't take the chance,dears; money comes easily, but love doesnot.
Dear Cassandra,
I am twenty and my girlfriend (I'll call herSadie) is twenty-two. We have been sharingan apartment for a year, going to bars, andall that stuff. Yesterday, a friend of Sadie'sasked her what I was like in bed. When shesaid that I wore striped pajamas and sleptlike a log, the friend laughed. Now we thinkmaybe we are missing out on something.Could you fill us in?
Addled Adelaide
Dear Ad,
Gracious but you two are so innocent! Youdo need help, and fortunately I am able toprovide just what you are looking for. Sendfour dollars ($4.00) in stamps (no coins,bills, checks, C.O.D.'s, or money orders) toCassandra, in care of this publication, and Iwill send you my new booklet, just off thepresses, Sex for the Lesbian. Forty illustrations(in color) are provided with thebooklet. It should solve your problemsquite nicely.
Dear Cassandra,
I am so distraught that I don't know whatto do. Four different times during the pastmonth I have gone to McMurphy Bridge tojump off into the bay and kill myself. Eachtime I lost my nerve and decided to live.Yesterday I went to the bridge again, andthis time I didn't lose my nerve. Unfortunately,someone had put a heavy wire meshabove the railing, and I couldn't get throughit. What shall I do now? I am determined todie. Please answer quickly.
Deirdre of the Sorrows
Dear Deirdre,
Not only are you distraught; as well, you'velost all semblance of common sense thinking.Buy a pair of wire-cutters, dear.
Dear Cassandra,
I don't know who the Ladies of Llangollenare. (I'm not even sure that I'm spelling itcorrectly.) No one will tell me. Am I afailure?
Terrified in Detroit
Dear Terri,
Yes.
Dear Cassandra,
I am 64 years old, with fourteen children,five grandchildren, and a great-grandchildon the way. Last night I suddenly discoveredthat I have been a Lesbian all theseyears. Do you have any words of advice forsomeone like me?
Old And Gay.
Dear O and G,
Yes: better late than never.
Dear Cassandra,
I am really in a mess. My dad says that he'llkill me if I don't stop fooling around withgirls and settle down and get married. Mygirlfriend Alice says she'll kill me if I everleave her. The thought of violence absolutelyterrifies me. To make matters evenworse, my mom says she's going to kill me,my dad, and Alice if we don't stop yellingat one another. Who shall I listen to? Whatshall I do? I have tried to be patient and
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reasonable, but it doesn't seem to work.
Betty in Burbank
Dear BB,
My dear, how absurd to think that youcould be reasonable with a group of peoplelike your father, your mother, and Alice!Try the obvious solution to the problem:buy a gun and threaten the three of them.Pacificist though I am, still I must admitthat there are times when violence is theonly answer. Besides, if worst comes toworst, remember that life in prison will beinfinitely more pleasant and peaceful thanis your present situation.
Dear Cassandra,
This girl I'm going around with, Elsa, thinksthat I am a fellow. But I'm not. The thingis, I am afraid that Elsa will find out that Iam a girl, because we spend so much timeplaying touch football together. In fact,touch football brought us together to beginwith. Don't ask me to give up sports,because Elsa is very sports-minded and I'dlose her if we stopped sharing athleticinterests. But I may lose her anyway, if shetouches me in the wrong place and discoversthe truth. Do you have any suggestions?
Bruno
Dear Bruno,
Yes. Why don't you take up croquet? Ifyou have no lawn available, try tiddly winks.
Dear Cassandra,
I am very much in love with a girl who has arevolting skin condition. She has hugepurple splotches all over her face, her arms,and her legs. (I'm not sure about the rest ofher body, but I'll let you know after thisweekend.) My problem is this: all myfriends say that this girl is disgusting andthat I should stop seeing her. I know youare a broadminded person who speaks thetruth. What is your comment?
Hilda
Dear Hilda,
The girl sounds disgusting. You ought tostop seeing her.
Dear Cassandra,
I am twenty-three years old, with greeneyes, long black hair, and a good figure. Myparents are dead, and I live alone on aninheritance my uncle left me. I think I maybe a Lesbian. How can I be sure?
Samantha
Dear Samantha,
I can imagine how worried and distressedyou must be at this moment, and I amlonging to help you. However, I will needmore information. Please send me (by airmail) your telephone number, your measurements,and the hours each day whenyou are free. I will do my best to assist youin this matter.
Cassandra can clarify you. questions! WriteCassandra, in care of this publication, statingyour problem and enclosing a self-addressedstamped envelope.
"SEXUAL POLITICS"
By HOPE THOMPSON
Kate Millett presents sexual politics,what it is, its history, in a straightforwardmanner and almost entirely in the words ofmen. A short discussion of Henry Miller,Norman Mailer, and Jean Genet at thebeginning sets the tone of the book. Therefollows a section on the theory of patriarchy,that social structure that ensures thewar between the sexes. Theory is examinedfrom the points of view of ideology, biology,sociology, class, economics and education,force, and anthropology. A long,interesting section recounting the historicalbackground of the sexual revolution from1830 to 1930 is followed by a thoroughreview of the counterrevolution from 1930to 1960. The last third of the book examinesclosely the writings of. Lawrence,Miller, Mailer, and Genet. Readers inclinedto pooh pooh the substance of the book areperforce constantly reminded sotte vocethat they are reading what the great maleminds of the past 100 years or more havewritten. Ms. Millett has picked her quotationswith consummate skill and judgmentand has acquainted the reader with thecontent of these men's thoughts in expositoryprose seldom equalled for clarityand honesty, an honesty that some of thesemen would find embarrassing. With greatsubtlety of wit and without distortion ofmeaning she has quietly allowed the enormous,subterranean humor of the wholepatriarchal system, its essential ridiculousness,to rise up before the reader. Hersection on Freud and his pompous theoryof female sexuality (penis envy and itsconsequences) is a gem of its kind. She
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allows Freud, in his own words and with hisown ideas, to do a takeoff of Freud.Whether one is struck by the humor ofsexual politics, or only by the contortedlengths to which men have gone to justifythe oppression of women, one cannot avoidfeeling how ominous it all is. Perhaps thehorror into which patriarchy has led us canbe defeated only by a cosmic laugh thatshakes us all back into sanity.
The origins of patriarchy are shroudedin guesswork. Perhaps the discovery ofpaternity coupled with the human (as wellas animal) propensity to accumulate propertyand the female's short and very pregnantlife conspired to bring it about. Ms.Millett defines patriarchy as the dominationby all males of all females and a similardomination by older males of younger. Thethree components of patriarchy are: status,the political component; role, the sociologicalcomponent; and temperament, thepsychological component. In various ways,these are all rooted in nature or biology, orso our male thinkers would have it. Viewsof patriarchy are examined in: the theoryof Engels, the "wisdoms" of myth, conclusionsfrom male notions of female sexuality,and the effluvia of some 19th centurypoets and novelists, among them Tennyson,Swinburne, and Wilde and representing revolutionary,chivalrous, and fantasy aspects.
The section on the counterrevolutiontakes a good, no-nonsense look at the Nazisand Soviets, at Freud and his female dupes(Helene Deutsch and Marie Bonaparte--excellent examples of women who findjoining the enemy the way to status), ErikErikson and how he thinks to soothewomen's ruffled feathers over Freud's bluntpenis envy with "chivalrous" hokum aboutwomen's "inner space"--replacing women'seternal and tragic loss of a penis withher eternal and glorious possession of awomb, and finally with a discussion ofmodern functionalism, that pseudo-objectivismunderlying the social sciencesthat insidiously move from what is (description)to what should be (prescription).These thinkers of the counterrevolution,these brave and ingenious researchers intothe TRUTH, are what I cannot help but call"ball-thinkers."
SEXUAL POLITICS is so good, sothorough, so much a must reading for all ofus in the sexual revolution, no matter howconservative or radical our stand, that I feela bit of a traitor in saying I find errors ofoverstatement and a crucial omission."Psychosexually... there is no differentiationbetween the sexes at birth. Psychosexualpersonality is therefore postnatal andlearned." (p. 30). Ms. Millett gives somemuddy heterosexual evidence for this statementin studies of gender identification, butthe evidence falls far short of proof. Wesimply do not know whether and to whatextent there may be already existing personalitypotentialities in the newborn.Babies do not behave alike, even at birth.Recent work of Konrad Lorenz on thepossible biological inheritance of behaviorpatterns in animals speaks against thetheory that all is learned. "For the sexes areinherently in everything alike, save reproductivesystems, secondary sexual characteristics,orgasmic capacity, and genetic andmorphological structure." (p. 93). This is anawfully big "save" and may well cancel outthe first part of the sentence. We had betterwithhold judgment until a good deal moreevidence is in. I hate to see Ms. Millett fallinto the method of mere assertion, thatmethod that ultimately destroys any argumentand that she so well exposes whenused by others.
What Ms. Millett treats us to is a view ofall humanity seen through male myopia.Without having to say so in so many words,she makes it clear that a wider vision isnecessary--the vision of the female tocorrect the monumental blind spots of themale. This is an enormous improvement,but hardly enough for the Lesbian reader.Ms. Millett's cultural milieu is still limited,limited this time by a larger circle labelled"heterosexual." A truly human view is notpossible without incorporating the correctionsafforded by the insights of the Lesbian.
Patriarchy is not possible without a totalinsistence on a heterosexual life style. Thetwo go hand in hand. Each male must ownand subdue at least one female. The homosexualis something of a problem, for, asMs. Millett points out, he is a deserter in thewar of the sexes. But as such he is still apart of the army, though forced to live outhis life in hiding and always risking beingcaught and executed. The Lesbian is no partof this patriarchal-heterosexual scheme. Shehas never been a part of it and is, for thatreason, the ultimate key to the destructionof that scheme. Ms. Millett follows the timehonored expedient of omitting altogetheror glossing over as unimportant, the stubbornphenomenon of Lesbianism. "A sexualrevolution would require, perhaps first of
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all, an end of traditional sexual inhibitionsand taboos: homosexuality [which she elsewheredefines in accordance with usage asmeaning male only], 'illegitimacy,' pre- andextra-marital sexuality." (p. 62). LikeQueen Victoria and later the Soviets, whenthey decided to legislate against homosexuality,SEXUAL POLITICS passes over insilence what heterosexual patriarchy findsmost terrifying of all: women who cannotbe bullied in the politics of the bedroom.Sexual freedom means nothing if it doesnot include, along with the variously qualifiednoes of heterosexual women, the unqualifiedno of Lesbians.
The excellence of SEXUAL POLITICSis not betrayed by its occasional overstatements,by the weakness of its presentationof female sexuality (still today in the handsof male researchers to whom women all tooreadily listen, Ms. Millett included), and itslack of discussion of what women mean by"sexual freedom." Its excellence lies in itsbringing together all that has led up to the1970's and in thus clearing the way forfurther thinking in the year 3 ahead. Eventhe omission of Lesbianism, the total acceptanceof which is fundamental to a radicaland successful women's movement, is not afault for by its very omission it becomesglaringly present.
GEMSTONES:
A LOOK AT SOME MINOR WORKS OF DJUNA BARNES
By CAROL LYNK
The novel NIGHTWOOD is, of course,the most brilliant of Djuna Barnes' Lesbianworks. Yet here and there throughout allthe literary gems she has produced we canfind more sapphires, if you will excuse thepun, shining. Some are unpolished in subjectmatter and we know only by feelingthe cut of the jewel its nature. There are,though, several bright pieces she has offeredthe casual miner for the taking.
A NIGHT AMONG THE HORSES(N.Y.: Horace Liveright, 1929) is a collectionof short stories and poems. Two of thepoems and two of the stories are ofunquestionable interest here.
"Lullaby" is not one of Miss Barnes'best poems. It is awkwardly constructed,beginning with a pattern of meaning, butnever establishing it enough to please thereader's expectations. Its rhyme is forcedwith no constant rhythm to carry it. It is awelcome poem, nevertheless, because it isunusually forthright. Miss Barnes' forte is aforbidding obscurity. Here one knows whatshe is saying immediately. She tells us ofher youth as a tomboy, her closeness toanimals, and her dependence upon hermother. We see all three of these elementsrepeatedly in her other work. In NIGHT-WOOD,for instance, what is Robin, if not atomboy stained with adulthood? Nora isintroduced with her dog as an integral partof her. And Miss Barnes asks in NIGHT-WOOD:"'Love of woman for woman,what insane passion for unmitigated anguishand motherhood brought that into themind?'" In the poem she draws a clearpicture of the three above-mentioned characteristicsand their relation to her adultself when she replaces the dog she sleptwith as a child with a girl "that lies on myarm". She replaces the need for her motherto protect her from harm with thoughts ofself-inflicted hurt, and her camaraderie withboys in her youth with her loneliness. Onecould go deeply into this poem as asummation of Miss Barnes' work and life,into its significance in a study of theLesbian as conceived by that writer; butthere are other pieces to be mentioned.
Another poem in the same collection isdedicated "To the memory of Mary Pyne"and is called "Six Songs of Khalidine".Many of Miss Barnes' poems deal withsorrow over a woman who has died (e.g."The Flowering Corpse" from this collection;"To the Dead Favorite of LIUCH'E" from DIAL magazine, April, 1920;"Crystals" from THE NEW REPUBLIC,June 20, 1923). "Six Songs" may be theonly poem on this subject which indicatesdefinitely that the woman mourned mayhave been a lover. Miss Barnes writes: "It isnot gentleness but mad despair / That setsus kissing mouths, O Khalidine, / Yourmouth and mine." She calls her Khalidine"my little love", and asks of the woman inthe earth: "... has not the mountain'sbase / Here trembled long ago unto the cry/ 'I love you, ah, I love you!'" The poemitself, besides telling us more of MissBarnes, is a beautiful thing, full of strongemotions powerfully expressed. Its rhythm
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is regular and easy and the poem is filledwith skillful rhyming. Miss Barnes' ability asa poet is proven here.
"The Dove" is a strange one-act playincluded in A NIGHT AMONG THEHORSES. It deals with two sisters and ayoung girl, the Dove, who lives with thesisters. The Dove resembles Miss Barnes'deceased lady love characters physically,and Robin of NIGHTWOOD in personality.The three live in an apartment filled withunused swords and guns which symbolizetheir inaction. The sisters play with thethought of death by violence as some sortof consummation of their loveless lives. TheDove is their awaited lover, but will notplay her part until she uses a weapon onthem. The reader swims in the sexualinferences of the play's action and awaits aresolution of the almost-plot in much thesame way as she would the happy ending ofa more conventional love story. As always,Miss Barnes packs the work with magicallyinvolving emotional turmoil. It is brief, yettells the story of years. It is violent, yet alove story. It is sexual, even erotic, yetpainfully pure in spirit. It should be performed.
Even stranger is the short story in thiscollection called "A Little Girl Tells a Storyto a Lady", also in SELECTED WORKS OFDJUNA BARNES (N.Y.: Farrar, Straus &Cudahy, 1962) with the title changed to"Cassation". Again a young girl goes to livewith an older woman. Miss Barnes gives usin this story, a picture of Sapphic love inthe sense that it resembles what our male orientedcivilization knows as Platonic love.The older woman is teacher and lover,sharing her view of life with the younger;finally seeming to prepare the younger forlife without the teacher. The story's importanceis just that relationship. We do notoften see in literature women sharing thesame realms of intellect with men. That thewriter should be a modern woman, stillembracing the high ideals of a culture inmany ways superior to ours, perhaps suggestsa quality about ourselves of which wecan be proud.
These four examples are only the moreobvious of many of Djuna Barnes' shortworks which this reader has unearthed.There is more work scattered through oldmagazines possibly forgotten even by MissBarnes, who now lives in enforced solitudein New York. Her most recent appearancein print, after a lapse of many years, was in.the December 27, 1969 issue of THE NEWYORKER magazine. It is the poem of anaged woman fighting death. Barnes-worshipersawait more beauty from thefight.
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Personal File: Four Friends
By MARGARET FULTON
Some of my best friends are straight. Infact, with the exception of my beloved,only one of my friends is not straight. Thismeans that almost all of these friendshipsreached a point at which, if the friendshipwere to grow and deepen, the friend had tobe informed of the true nature of therelationship between Ann and me.
Since I met Ann when I was in college,my friends there were the first to knowabout how we felt about each other...after we ourselves figured it out. My bestfriend and roommate at school was Jennifer.I have always had a secret desire to betall and rangy (I'm 5'4"), and Jennifer wastall and rangy--perhaps that is what firstdrew me to her. She had a well-earnedreputation as a kook. A natural actress, shehad a knack for making people believe themost incredible tall tales, and she enjoyedplaying eccentric roles. She was also anextremely intelligent and perceptive youngwoman, however. Perhaps one of the many'Jennifer-stories' will illustrate this.
Jennifer was invited for a drive by oneof the local young men who patronized thebar most-frequented by the students of ourwomen's college. The ride ended up atanother bar, this one in the black ghetto.Jennifer's companion was well known inthe bar, but as the only other white and astranger, Jennifer realized that she wasprobably going to cause unnecessary tensionsamong the other patrons. She decided,therefore, to be French for the evening. Shecould easily affect a French accent, and bydoing so she was an immediate hit. Severalmen, who would probably have regardedher with some distrust if they knew she wasa white American, asked her to dance andthen joined her and her escort at their table.The talk covered a variety of subjects, andJennifer realized even more than beforethat, as a foreigner, she was in a position tolearn things that it would have been difficultif not impossible for her to learn in herordinary guise. One of the men at the tableasked her how she liked America. Shereplied that she loved it, so much so thatshe had been reading about American historyand the constitution, etc. Several ofthe black men expressed some disagreementand discussion ensued. By the end of theevening, Jennifer knew something of theblack man's feelings about his country, andthe men present had come to the conclusion,to their expressed surprise, that withall its flaws, America was an OK sort ofplace to live.
For all her cool, however, Jennifer stillcarried with her considerable remnants ofher puritanical upbringing, and I approachedtelling her about Ann with considerabletrepidation. Even if she wasn'tshocked and/or disgusted, I feared that shemight well feel uneasy about continuing toshare a suite with me. It was a sunny winterafternoon when I. finally summoned mynerve. She was brushing her hair in herroom and I was sitting on the bed in myroom, watching her through the short connectingpassageway. I got up and went tothe passage, leaned against the wall farthestfrom her, and cleared my throat.
"Jennifer..."
"Hmmm?" absent-mindedly.
"I love Ann," very softly.
"Yeah. I know you do," again absently,but with a small added note of puzzlement.
"No, you don't understand. I really loveher."
For the first time, she looked at me,obviously still unaware of what I was tryingto say.
"You know, the way you love someonethat you want to marry."
Comprehension came. If with it cameany shock or distaste, she hid it well.
"Have you done anything about it?"
"What?"
"Anything beyond telling each otherthat you love each other... any of theusual things that go along with lovingsomeone."
"Yes."
A moment of consideration, then a grin,"Thank God. If you hadn't, I'd be reallyworried that you were abnormal."
Jennifer and I are still friends.
Telling Jennifer, and getting the reactionfrom her that I did, made telling otherpeople somewhat easier. Allen was theboy-next-door (actually he lived around thecorner). We walked to school together allthrough grammar school, built forts together,went down the railroad tracks to pickraspberries. It was in the raspberry patch,when we were both ten, that Allen explainedthe facts of life to me. Justexplained, no demonstrations, because wethought of sex as another strange thing that
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grown-ups did. When I was in my freshmanyear at college I decided that I wanted toknow what sex was all about, and Allenseemed a likely candidate for instructor, soI wrote to him. The next time I went homefor a vacation, Allen called for a date andmy education began. Our sexual relationshipcontinued sporadically throughout thatschool year. It was mutually pleasurablephysically, but no more than that. Allenand I had grown apart during our highschool days, and we really had little incommon. He had flunked out of college,because he had more interest in booze andbroads than in books, and he was violentlyanti-intellectual, perhaps to prove to himselfthat he had chosen to leave school. Westopped seeing each other when I went offto camp in June, and when I came home inAugust, I met Ann.
Two years later Ann and I parted--withmany tears, and supposedly for our mutualbenefit. That Christmas Allen came homeon leave from the Air Force. I could hardlybelieve my eyes. He had always been tall,and had potentially good looks. Now,thanks to the rigorous training he hadreceived as a paramedic, he was broad-shoulderedand narrow-hipped, and smoothlymuscled. And thanks to the self-confidencethat passing the numerousselective tests in the Air Force program hadgiven him, he was beautiful. This timearound we were friends as well as, in thephysical sense, lovers. I told him aboutAnn, and he said he had experimented withhomosexuality, but he hadn't liked it. Hesaid he was sorry that things had notworked out for me, and he meant it.Despite the fact that neither of us was inlove with the other, our mutual affectionand need might have led us to seriouscommitments, but the Air Force saved usby sending him to Germany.
Allen left in March, and in July, Anncalled and asked me to visit her. I flew toBoston, where she was in graduate school,with many conflicting emotions and noclear idea of what I was doing. By the endof the weekend I knew exactly what I wasdoing. A lucky series of events allowed meto put off graduate school for a yearwithout too much static from my friendsand relations, and at the end of the summerI moved in with Ann. My letters to Allenbecame newsy and stilted, and I was unableto respond to his elaborations on a motorcycletrip through Europe that we hadhalf-seriously planned to take after hisdischarge from the armed forces.
About a year after I had moved in withAnn, and only shortly before I was due toleave for the West Coast and graduateschool, I went home to visit my parents.Allen was home on leave. For the firstcouple of days that I was there, althoughwe saw each other often, we really saidlittle to each other. I began to think thatour former closeness was a short-lived productof loneliness. But one evening he tookme to see Romeo and Juliet. We arrived atthe theatre quite a bit early, and Allensuggested that we stay in the car and talkinstead of going right in. He began to talkabout himself--how he had changed sinceI'd last seen him, what he now felt hewanted out of life, and how much itbothered him that we seemed to be wearingmasks for each other now that we hadn'tbeen wearing before. I agreed about themasks and decided to contribute my part toshedding them.
"Do you remember my telling you thatI was involved with a girl a couple of yearsago?"
He nodded.
"Well, we've gotten back together. I livewith her in Boston; she's the reason I'mliving in Boston this year instead of, going tograduate school, or living at home."
He nodded again, "I thought maybe thatwas so, but I couldn't ask you, you know. Ijust had to wait and hope that you wouldtell me... that you'd trust me enough totell me."
"I wanted to tell you before, but itdidn't seem to be the kind of thing to writein a letter, and then when I saw you again Iwasn't sure I knew you."
"I know. You don't really know me,you couldn't. And I don't know you, but Iwant to know you. And I want you toknow me, too."
"The most important thing to knowabout me is that I'm very much in love withAnn, I'm happier with her than I have everbeen, and I plan to spend the rest of my lifewith her... after a year or so of separationwhile I go to school."
"If you're happy, I'm happy for you."He leaned over and kissed me on the cheekand we got out of the car and went to themovie.
When my vacation was over, Allen droveme back to Boston and spent several verypleasant days with Ann and me before hehad to leave for his new base.
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Jill and I had been friends at Girl ScoutCamp. When we were fourteen we had acrush on the same counsellor. When wewere fifteen we were both in the Counsellor-In-Trainingunit and were rather close.After that summer we exchanged Christmascards for six years, but no more. Then theyear that I was not seeing Ann, my senioryear at college, Jill called me while I washome for Thanksgiving and asked me whythe hell I didn't come to visit her and herhusband. I couldn't think of any goodreasons why not, so I went. The only thingthat may be better than finding a newfriend, is rediscovering an old friend. Sixyears are a long time when they fallbetween fifteen and twenty-one, but withJill and me they represented a period ofparallel evolution. We discovered that wehad read and liked the same books, favoredthe same music and had developed verysimilar outlooks on the world. She told meabout her first love, whom she had lostbecause of religious differences and resultantparental disapproval, and she told meabout Sam, her husband, who wasn't firstlove but was the perfect mate for her. I toldher about Ann, but because I was a littleunsure of Jill, and because I thought it wasall over anyway, I referred to Ann as "he."
I met Sam and agreed with Jill's appraisalof him. He was easy-going and softspoken--a good balance for Jill's ebullience.Throughout that year I saw a lot ofthem--going home more often than Igenerally did. When I moved to Boston, Ididn't see J ill for several months--not untilI came home for a few days at Christmas. IfI had been tempted to tell Jill about Annbefore, I was much more so now that Annwas no longer in the past but very muchpresent. As we sat in her living room,talking about what each of us was doing, Iweighed the pro and con of telling her anddecided for the pro.
So I said, "Remember that guy I toldyou about?"
"Yes."
"Well, it wasn't a guy, it was a girl. It is.a girl. The same girl. I'm living with her nowand... well, I'm very happy, and I justwanted you to know the whole truth."
"Why didn't you tell me before? Didn'tyou trust me?"
I mumbled something about 'you nevercould tell how people would react', 'whyupset people unnecessarily about past history',and other inanities. Despite my foolishfears, there was no reticence or uneasinesson Jill's part because of my confession.She wanted to know all about Ann. Hercomparisons of aspects of my relationshipto Ann to aspects of hers to Sam led me tobe more open and frank about things than Ihad yet been with anyone other thanJennifer. Jill hasn't met Ann yet, but I'msure she'll like her when she does.
Finally, allow me to talk about Dr.Simons. Talking about Dr. Simons is somethingI do rather often, because next toAnn he is the single most important influencein my life so far. When I went tocollege I thought that I would probablymajor in English or History, and with aneye to the latter I enrolled in Dr. Simons'introductory Greek class. In a little while Iforgot about English and History andsteeped myself in the glory of ClassicalGreek. Dr. Simons bore a more than passingresemblance to Neanderthal man, but whenhe started talking about Greek he wasbeautiful. His love for his subject wasinfectious and I caught a severe case of it.Dr. Simons was not a man you felt neutralabout. You either worshiped him or hatedhim. My freshman year I worshiped him.My sophomore year he was on leave to doresearch in the Aegean. My junior year Ihated him, at least for a little while. But ashe forced me to work beyond what Ithought was my ability, and as I found outthat I could do the work he demanded, Ibegan to respect him. By he end of theyear I was back in the ranks of worshipers.When he asked me to be his studentassistant, I was overwhelmed with pride andwith fear that I wouldn't live up to his faithin me.
So senior year I was his assistant. Annand I had parted in September of that year,and I threw myself into my work, complainingall the while that it was only infiction that throwing yourself into yourwork did any good. But being around Dr.Simons did a lot of good. He demanded agreat deal of me both in class and in myassistantship, but he was always enormouslypleased when I gave him what he asked for.I started to know him as a person and myrespect for him grew, even as he wasfostering my own self-respect.
I'd never met his wife, although I'd seenher and knew her to be lovely and quite abit younger than he. She would occasionallycall him at the office, and when he spoketo her the affection in his voice was soapparent as to make me embarrassed about
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being in the room. When the end of theyear came and the major project I had beenworking on for him was not quite finished,he asked me to move into his house for acouple of weeks after graduation, to finishit up. Again happy but fearful, I accepted.Fearful, because it's one thing to knowsomeone in academic surroundings andquite another to know him in his home, andbecause his wife was an unknown quantity.
My fears, as usual, were groundless. Dr.Simons' wife was as charming and intelligentas he. A pianist, she spent hours eachday practicing or giving lessons. Dr. Simonsclearly regarded her profession as equally asimportant as his own. He would no soonerhave asked her to type something for himthan she would have asked him to stand andturn pages for her; and yet each of themhad an active and informed interest in theother's work. In short, their relationship, atleast to this observer, was ideal. If one canfeel part of a family after two weeks withthem, I did.
I had had several opportunities to tellDr. Simons about Ann. Once, when I firststarted working for him, he mentioned thatthe trouble with his assistant of the yearbefore was that she was so "goddamnednormal". And I thought, well there's anopening if I ever heard one... but I let ithang. And when he met my father, whoexpressed concern that my academic careerwould lead me away from marriage andchild-bearing, Dr. Simons told him not toworry because I had my "feet on theground" and whatever I decided to dowould be right. And I thought, there now,you could tell him... but I didn't.Instead when something said recalled somethingabout Ann, I spoke of a "young manin Boston"
When I put off graduate school for ayear, Dr. Simons was disappointed, andagain I mentioned the "young man". Hewrote to me advising caution, but assuringme that he recognized that love was moreimportant than academics, and that hewould respect whatever decision I made. Bythis time I was feeling pretty crummy about. deceiving him and denying Ann.
A few months after I moved to Boston,an opportunity arose to visit the Simons,and I discussed the situation with Ann. Sheadvised calling him and telling him thefacts. So I called him and said that therewas a ride available to his area of the worldand would he be able to see me this comingweekend. He was delighted and urged thevisit. I told him I'd call him when I got totown and hung up. Then I beat my headagainst the wall for a while, paced the roomand cursed myself for three bloody kinds ofa coward. Ann, sitting quietly on the sofareading, suggested I call him back. I did.
"Dr. Simons?"
"Yes?"
"It's me again. Margaret. I just thought Iought to tell you that there'll be someonewith me. Uh... the girl I'm living with."
"Oh, fine, fine. Girl? I thought therewas a young man."
"Uh... no... there was never ayoung man..."
"Oh... Margaret, is there somethingyou want to tell me?"
"No," and I hung up.
Now I was feeling infantile as well ascowardly, and I beat my head harder thanbefore. Ann got off the couch and cameover to me and held me close.
"Darling, call him back."
"I can't. I've already called him twice."
"Three times lucky. Call him and tellhim. You know you won't sleep until youdo."
"You're right, of course."
"Of course. I don't know why the hellI'm urging you to tell someone I never metsome very private facts about me, but I am,so do it... Now."
And I did.
"Hello, Dr. Simons, I..."
"Thank God, you called back, sweetheart.I was just lying here, thinking..."
"Well then you've probably figured itout. All the time I was talking about thatyoung man, I was really talking about Ann...I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."
"Well I'm really honored that you did,sweetheart. Margaret, do you think this is apermanent thing?"
"Yes. I'm as sure of it as I can be ofanything. I love her very much, and I wantyou to meet her."
"And I want to meet her. Elaine and Iwill look forward to seeing you both, thisweekend."
"O.K. Listen, I'm sorry about all thisnonsense."
"Forget it. Sleep well."
"Goodnight."
That weekend we did see them. Mostlywe saw Dr. Simons, because Mrs. Simonshad to go to a lesson. Ann and Dr. Simonsfound each other to be kindred spirits, andI just sat back and watched them appreciateeach other.
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I am proud to know the four peoplesketched here, among others that I won'tbore you by describing. Their acceptance ofAnn and me is immensely important to me,as, I think my trust in them is important tothem. And that's what it's all about, isn'tit? Acceptance and trust.
(Editor's Note: There was a strongdesire on the editor's part to changethe word "straight" used in this articleto heterosexual or some other wordwithout the loaded connotations.However, there is, apparently, no othersynonym for heterosexual, even insuch modern works as THE RANDOMHOUSE DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISHLANGUAGE, 1967.)
DANCE LESSON
By THE CLASS WORKSHOP
On Friday, April 3, 1970, the women ofGay Liberation Front held the first All-Women'sDance. Previous to this there hadbeen other "GLF" dances, but these werenot well attended by women. The responseto this first All-Women's Dance was in factexcellent. At peak there were somewherenear 250 women dancing together. Theatmosphere was warm and close and for thefirst time publicly, those of us from Women'sLiberation who attended realized a.fuller, more expanded meaning of what wehave been referring to in the Women'sMovement as "Sisterhood."
Those who came to the dance from WLforesaw that other WL members wouldattend. We were all quite surprised to seeone another. From this spontaneous publicsupport voiced by the presence of severalWL groups it was evident that a recognitionof sisterhood with all women was ready tobe lived and dealt with in the Women'sMovement.
Although several WL groups were represented,in comparison to the membership inthe Women's Liberation Movement and inregard to the number of women in totalwho attended the dance, WL participationwas in the minority. And where were ourother sisters? Why hadn't they attended?
Coincidentally or otherwise, nearly allthe women in the "Class Workshop" attendedthe dance. (The "Class Workshop" wasinitiated by members of "The New Feminists"to study the problems of "Class" inthe Women's Movement--represented inthe workshop are Chips & Scraps, TheFeminists, Redstockings, a Secretaries'group and WITCH). At the dance we whocame from the workshop were aware that aturning point in the Women's Movementwas implicit in the dance. We were excitedto talk about its significance and did so thefollowing night at the "Class Workshop"meeting. We decided to write a publicstatement of our responses to the dance.Both those of us who went and those whodid not wrote about our feelings toward thedance. Here are our responses:
DIDN'T GO
A dance has connotations of all thenormal (oppressive) ins. and outs of male/female sexual relationships. Dancing issexual. This is what I thought about when Iheard of the women's dance, sponsored byGLF women. Our group decided to go.Friday was a bad day at work, worse thanusual, and I didn't feel like doing anything.We met at 8:00 at a sister's place to discussthe dance. Whether we'd go or not. Aliberal discussion of Lesbianism. (Some ofus had had "experiences with women"--Iwhen I was 12--but this made nodifference.) Since being in WLM my relationshipswith women have been "political"--a new group of women friends in the lastten months. Friendships grew out of thisslowly. I had made up my mind not to go,not because I am dedicated to havingemotional/sexual experiences only withmen but out of fear of breaking down thispolitical, nearly formal relationship withmy sisters and sisters would meet; I talkedat the meeting with the idea of beingpersuaded. I had already made up my mindnot to go. A sister suggested we go, to havefun. She went. I didn't go because I'mafraid of my feelings for women. It is notthat simple. I know men hate women, hateme--I am afraid of them; men have saidthey love me and it didn't always feel sobad, maybe because I told myself (they toldme) it feels good. I am afraid of makinglove with women (this is where the idea oflesbianism takes me), I am afraid of mybody; to think of going to the women's
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dance made me think of all these things--the fears are laterally spread across mymind, like the idea of climbing up somethinghigh when I know I am afraid ofheights--I am the object of the lover,object of the fail. Afraid of the repetitionof these roles. Afraid of dancing with sistersbecause it means "sexual." It's quite a listof abstractions--it's pretty much what Iimagine that scares me. I went home because"I'm exhausted" and watched thetelevision.
DID GO
Lesbianism is the supreme insult andthreat to the male.
It insults him because it implies that youprefer another woman to him. He is indignantat the fact that you would comparehim to a "mere woman," that you wouldactually consider a woman his equal.
Sexually you are stripping him of hisage-old prerogative--he is not your onlysource of love and affection. You have achoice and implicit in that choice is thatyour needs and pleasure are equal to orhave priority over his. This is the reason the"lesbians" (and let's keep in mind that theword lesbian is a male supremacist distinctionwhich artificially defines loveamong women as purely sexual) are ridiculedand persecuted in our male supremacist,bourgeois society. This is the reasonthat the oppressor has called the Women'sLiberation Movement "a bunch of lesbians."
All of us must recognize the politicalsignificance of what is called by men"lesbianism." We cannot afford to pushaside this issue because of cultural biases orfear. Let's face the truth: the greatest threatto men is solidarity among women, and"lesbianism" epitomizes this solidarity.
Let us also remember that our politicalviews are expressed in our everyday actions.They reveal both how we think and feelabout ourselves and our sisters. Whom dowe in fact prefer to be with, to work andplan with, to play and dance with?
DID GO
The Wednesday before the "GLFDance," I made a public declaration in myWomen's Liberation group that I would nolonger relate to men in any kind of emotionalrelationship. Men, I said, had infectedus and the world with the disease of"Heterosexuality." I had concluded thatthe only potentially "healthy" emotionalrelationships that could take place werewith other women.
Once before during my trip throughWomen's Liberation. I had come to believethat relationships with other women had tobe a part of Women's Liberation. I call thismy bisexual stage. The short affair I hadended not entirely as I would have liked to.The problems that opened up I wasn't ableto deal with to my satisfaction. It's differentnow and I see more what I think hasto happen relating to other women, thesingle, most important thing being to transformwhatever "Male-Heterosexual" orientationswe have in ourselves.
At the same time I declared myself apotential lover of women. I announced Iwould attend the "GLF Dance" and askedif there was anyone else who wanted to go.One other member in the group said shewould attend.
Most of the other members objected tothe idea of a "dance." I also objected to theformal aspect of a dance, which I hadassociated with "heterosexual" relationships.But in spite of the label, I saw thepossibility of having an experience thatwould counter the limited "dance" definition,and that was that there would bepresent "only" women in a social contextof "wanting" to relate to women, as opposedto relating through men.
What I experienced at the dance was thesense of reopened emotional feeling withoutrestriction, for women. When I dancedclose to another woman the feeling of herbody flooded me with emotion: Thinkingabout this afterward, I was aware of howmuch feeling for each other we do have, yetare told not to express, and how this mustreally stultify our personal relations. Forme the dance was my first public step inaffirming total sisterhood.
DID GO
The All-Women's Dance was an expansionof space for use by women in both aliteral and psychological sense. It aroused inme an incipient sense of possession andfreedom men feel everywhere else. For onceI felt relatively inconspicuous and able toachieve the detachment necessary for freedomin action rather than the compulsiveinvolvement women are usually made tofeel. The dance impressed everyone fromWomen's Liberation so well that this openingspace will not be lost but will be foughtfor as our right.
On a more subjective level I was movedbut experienced no great upheaval. It wasnot anything like a religious conversion.The idea of women loving each other just
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became more palpable and natural to me. Idon't know how and I don't know when,but I'm just open.
DID GO
I guess I'm naive but I had expectedWomen's Liberation to be better representedat the women's dance. I mean, we havean all-women's movement; we have all-women'smeetings; we had an all-women'smixed media show at the AU a month or soago--it didn't seem to me Like such a bigstep to go to an all-women's dance. Butapparently it is. When I suggested going topeople in my small group, I was greeted insome cases with shock, but mostly withrationalizations: "Lesbians are always puttingdown heterosexual feminists" was oneof the more thoughtful ones; mostly it was,"I don't like to dance," or "I'm too tired."Well, it's no surprise that lesbians put usdown--the movement has so far beenpretty carefully anti-lesbian, so what's in itfor them? It's also no surprise that manywomen don't like to dance or think theydon't--a dance with men is a parade, acattle auction, a drag.
Dancing with women is something elseagain. it was one of the most beautifulexperiences of my life--a total high. And itturns out that it was a big step. Because Iam learning to love women, and the dancewas a first step.
DID GO
In WL I have developed a closeness withwomen and found that I enjoy havingwomen friends. Yet I always felt a fear ofexpressing my feelings in a physical way byhugging or touching. The fears had lessenedas the warmth and love I feel for otherwomen have deepened. When I heard aboutthe dance I felt that it was a chance toexpress my feelings openly. The dance wasexciting to me because of the warm feelingsI received from the women there, many ofwhom I had never met before. The womenwere open and expressed their affection toeach other freely. I also felt a sense ofbelonging since the women here also lovedother women and showed it. I felt that Ihad broken out of an old shell and couldrelax and enjoy myself at a dance, which Ihad never been able to do before.
DIDN'T GO
I was standing by the wall--lined upwith the other chickens--all waiting to bepicked out by the Almighty BOY whowould choose YOU and give you somereason for feeling you had a right to live.
That is the one memory I have of the
caption
only dance I ever went to. That wasthirteen years ago, but the vision remainsand it stinks.
Anything that calls itself a "dance" stillbrings forth this same repulsion. I automaticallytransferred the feeling to the"All-Women's Dance." I discredited womenby thinking we would take on the values ofthe other sex.
I'm not against the wall anymore. Iapologize to my comrades and to myself.The oppressor already knows that if weunite we will have the strength to win. Theytherefore do everything in their power tokeep us in an antagonistic relation to eachother. Lesbianism is a division among usthat they are particularly careful to maintain.They have imposed social and legalpenalties against it so as to make us afraidto love other women. They are aware that ifthey can keep us from loving and respectingeach other they have robbed us of ourgreatest strength. The dance signifies aturning point in the Women's Movement,for we are beginning to recognize in a basicway what "Solidarity" really means.
(Reprinted with permission fromRAT. Originally entitled WOMEN'SLIBERATION.)
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Cross Currents
KARATE NO MEDIA JOKE: Coast-to-coastcoverage: June, July and August1970. Many areas of the country haveavailable low-cost or free training in self-defensefor women, and more and morewomen are taking advantage of thesecourses. Rapes and assaults, frequently withvicious mutilation and death as the endresult, are increasing nationally and particularlyin our larger cities. Beverly Koch,writing in San Francisco CHRONICLE,July 27, 1970, about the Stanford Universitycourse in self defense for women,covers the basics and points out the seriousneed for this sort of training to begin inhigh school, when "the heaviest socializationof women takes place... they get theidea they can't defend themselves."
BITE THE HAND THAT. FEELS YOU:New York City: June 20, 1970. Sixtyyoung women from a New York women'sliberation group held an "ogle-in" on June9th at a construction site on the corner ofPark Avenue and 57th Street. They ogledmen, whistled at them, and made the sortof comments about the men that men atsuch job sites customarily make at allpassing women, whether fresh from thecradle or ready to tumble into the grave. "Itseemed," said my reporter, "to make themen very, very nervous..."
WOMEN'S LIBERATION CANDIDATEWINS IN NEW YORK: UP: June 25, 1970.Bella Abzug, 49-year-old lawyer, trouncedincumbent Leonard Farbstein, 67, for theDemocratic Congressional nomination inNew York's 19th Congressional District.The 19th Is heavily Democratic, so thatprimary victory is tantamount to election.She will be running in November againstHarry Farber, a Republican-Liberal candidate.
LONG-HAIRED HARD HATS: Wallace,Idaho: June and July 1970. This summer agroup of women from 18 to 25 are earningtheir summer educational money workingas a "slash crew" for logging camps. Theymake $2.22 an hour minimum and are,obviously, in it for the money. Everyone,including the men on the logging crews, ispleased with the arrangement, all havinghad severe doubts at first. Slow process, thiseducation bit.
LUTHERANS- VOTE ORDINATIONOF WOMEN: WASHINGTON POST: July1970. At the biennial assembly of theLutheran Church in America in Minneapolis,the delegates voted for the first time toallow ordination of women as ministers.The Missouri Synod of the LutheranChurch (second largest Lutheran body) feltthis move would imperil Lutheran unity.Women were recently granted the vote inthe Missouri Synod at church legislativesessions, but Rev. Dr. J.A.O. Preus of theMissouri Synod pointed out that since Evewas formed from Adam's rib, women have alower place of distinction in the creation(does one laugh or cry here?).
KANSAS CITY WOMEN'S LIBERATION:July 1970. The Kansas City group,divided into some nine separate areas ofinterest, has common quarters at theECSTATIC UMBRELLA, 3800 McGee,Kansas City, Missouri 64111. This addresssupersedes any you may have seen in eithergroup or national media in recent months;the former address is not valid. They issuedtheir first newsletter in July--short butliterate, and not outstandingly noisy. Good.
MORE ON APHRA: WASHINGTONPOST (July 1970): A small article buried inthe "woman" section, unsigned (and, unfortunately,on my copy not dated) andheaded, "It's No Cosmopolitan" gives agood review to the new literary periodical,APHRA. However, it is not the "first" such,just the second: we won in that race bysome 14 years. No hard feelings, however--very happy to see APHRA around.
MORE CHURCHES CATCHING UP TOTHE WORLD: July 1970. At the 1970General Assembly of the Unitarian-UniversalistChurch, a number of statementswere made concerning homosexualsand bisexuals. Among these, item numberfour: there are Unitarian-Universalists,clergy and laity, who are homosexuals andbisexuals. (No kidding!) The assembly madethe basic resolutions supporting an end toall discrimination against homosexuals inemployment or anywhere else and the usualconsensual adult recommendations. Unlikeother church bodies reported previously inthis column, they add no trailers--no if's,and's or conditions. We are grateful, onlywish the hard rock groups (and I do not-meanmusic) would follow suit.
CHI CHENG OF TAIWAN, SUPERGIRL. CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR:July 1, 1970. Watch for this name, as this26-year-old seems destined to become oneof the greatest athletes of all time--notwomen's athletes: athletes. Chi Cheng is arunner and is said to be destined to star at
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the next Olympic Games.
OF THIS PURE BUT IRREGULARPASSION: VILLAGE VOICE: July 2,1970. Jill Johnston, who has made herLesbianism patently clear to all but themost obtuse in past VILLAGE VOICEcolumns on the dance of. life, now publiclystates the fact for us in this column.Unfortunately, she also introduces a conglomerationof theoretical philosophy thatwill confuse anyone who is not thoroughlyfamiliar with Lesbian literature. More unfortunately,she includes a public attack ona famous--and rightly so--woman inwomen's liberation whose personal reputationfor kindness and compassion is nationallyknown. Inexcusable bad manners,Jill, no matter what excuse you might give.Tacked to the end of this column is alengthy look at Colette's magnificent THEPURE AND THE IMPURE and the evenmore important study of the celebratedLADIES OF LLANGOLLEN, including awonderful excerpt from the celebrateddiary of Lady Eleanor Butler. Recommendedreading, with a lot of "eye" editingas you go along.
NUN POLICEWOMAN ELEANOR NEIDWICK:BARSTOW, CALIFORNIA DESERT.DISPATCH: July 7, 1970. EleanorNiedwick is a nun and a policewoman inWashington, D.C. She is 25, and she ishappy with her work. She is a member ofthe Order of the Daughters of Wisdom,founded to work with the poor. There areabout 5,000 today, and they work asnurses, teachers and social workers... andpolicewomen now.
THE RIGHT TO MARRY IN PUBLICAND NOT IN PRIVATE PLACES...OPENLY... San Francisco CHRONICLE:July 7, 1970. In what must be themost unusual editorial this not-unusuallyliberal newspaper has ever done, entitled "ANew Look at Homosexual Marriage," wefind the following: "Marriage is the publicannouncement of a civil contract betweentwo people showing binding Intent to sharetheir lives. It is also a personal contract,showing intent to share their mental andemotional resources. Members of the heterosexualmajority derive great security, prideand social acceptance from this "renderingpublic" of an honest social commitment inthe eyes of 'God and Man.' It would seemonly in keeping with the times that considerationbe given to. allowing the homosexualminority the same rights to this sense offulfillment." (It has been known for yearsthat many a sympathetic minister, oftengay, would privately marry male couples orLesbian couples. It is also being donepublicly but without legal sanction inchurches such as METROPOLITAN COMMUNITYCHURCH in Los Angeles. Thetime has come, however, to make it possiblefor two men, two women, or whatever, tomarry and take advantage of the manyinstitutions designed to benefit couples inour society if they wish to do so.)
TRACY KNIGHT AND MARJORIERUTH JONES: COURIER-JOURNAL:July 9, 1970. This Louisville, Kentuckypaper reports that Jefferson County AttorneyJ. Bruce Miller has ordered that amarriage license not be issued to these twowomen. They had applied for a marriagelicense because they felt they had, as aLesbian couple, the right to the same legalrights and tax benefits that heterosexualcouples have. Their attorney, Stuart Lyon,concluded that they would not fight thecase to win their rights.
MORE TRACY KNIGHT AND MARJORIERUTH JONES: COURIER-JOURNAL:July 11, 1970. Jefferson CircuitCourt was asked on July 10, 1970 toforce County Clerk James P. Hallahan toissue a marriage license to these two Louisvillewomen. Stuart Lyon, attorney for theLesbian couple, said the women had reconsideredtheir previous decision to not forcethe issue in court. Mr. Lyon and DavidKaplan, his law partner, argued in theaction filed: "Concurrent mores, customsand practices do not indicate a publicpolicy which is contrary to the marriagebetween parties of the same sex. Theconsenting parties to this marriage aretaking no action detrimental to the interestof any other party or parties, nor will theirmarriage do injury or violence to the personor property of any other party or parties."Tracy Knight is 25; Marjorie Jones is 39.
LABOR OF A DIFFERENT SORT:Burlington, Iowa: July 19, 1970. CharlotteBixenman, 29, has become a card-carryingmember of a construction and generallaborer's union local. She is believed to beone of the first women members of such agroup.
MELBOURNE SUNDAY OBSERVOR:July 19, 1970. Australia is many yearsbehind even the U.S. as far as liberal viewson sex orientation. It is gratifying to findthis newspaper (and from its size we wouldguess this is a Sunday supplement sort ofpublication that belongs with some regular
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published newspaper) producing a relativelycalm and not too stupid look at a series ofLesbians. They do cite (but do not identify)some survey that found out of 123 Lesbians,one in four wished to be heterosexual.This seems impossible, based on variousstudies that have appeared in the U.S. andyears of dealing in this field, but this was aBritish study and possibly there are differences.Not good, not really bad--encouragingonly because it is something that couldnot have appeared a short while back.
WOMEN'S JOB FIGHT BEGINS: KANSASCITY STAR: July 20, 1970. The U.S.government went to court for the first timeto fight for equal employment rights forwomen since discrimination against womenwas banned by the Civil Rights Act of1964. Suit was filed against Libbey-Owens-Ford,Inc., and United Glass and CeramicWorkers of North America, AFL-CIO andits local No. 9. The Justice Department saidwomen workers in the company's Toledo,Ohio plants were discriminated against. Thedepartment said Libbey-Owens-Ford hireswomen production workers in only one ofits five Toledo plants, assigns them to lessdesirable and lower-paying jobs with theleast opportunity for advancement, andsubjects women to a higher frequency oflayoffs. The union is being cited becauseunion management contracts deprive femaleemployees of an equal opportunity tocompete with their male contemporaries forthe more desirable, better-paying jobs. Libbey-Owens-Fordemploys 200 women and5,200 men in its Toledo area plants.
MENS LIBERATION??? NEWSWEEK:July 20, 1970 reports on men's liberationgroups openly wishing to act as "Gents'Auxiliary" to women's liberation. Theynaturally include the fact that many homosexualmen are included but, also cite themany who are not. Boston, Berkeley, SanFrancisco and New York are said to havegroups.
SMALL CONSENSUS: WASHINGTONPOST: July 25, 1970. Forty women attendeda coordination meeting with RepresentativeEdith Green (D. Oregon) on unifyingefforts to end discrimination against women.Elizabeth Boyer, representing Women'sEquity Action League (WEAL), spoke ofher group as the far right but added thatthey were most willing to go throughestablishment processes to gain their goals.She also said that some "men were referringto women's liberation as the 'Women'sMafia Movement' "--charming. Most ofthe groups attending were, in fact, the mostright wing (establishment-oriented) groups.
DR. EDGAR F. BERMAN SEXIST EXTRAORDINARY:WASHINGTON POST:July 29, 1970. Nancy L. Ross, reporting inthe Post on Dr. Berman, who frankly feelsthat women are extremely inferior to menand is happy to say so in as many wayspossible in public as can be managed,doesn't betray in her article a shred ofloathing for the man. It will be amusing,
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though, to see if his views damage his careerin the future. If not, then it is safe to saythat his views are held by the majority ofmen, and if this is so, then there isn't roomon this planet for both sexes. Dr. Bermanon women:
1) Referring to Patsy Mink's requestthat he be fired for sexist views,publicly stated on the grounds that ifhe held similar views (i.e., congenitalphysical and mental inferiority) onnegroes, he would not be allowed tohold public office, Dr. Berman saidyour "feline ploy of equating mydissent with racial prejudice certainlydoes not reflect even male congressionalstandards of debate." Hecalled Mrs. Mink's letter (to Humphreyasking that Dr. Berman befired) "a typical example of an ordinarilycontrolled woman under theraging hormonal imbalance of theperiodic lunar cycle--thus provingthe point against which you rail." |
2) "In fact," he wrote, "the same glandularsecretions producing the reactionswhich you say do not exist,endow most 'real women' with theirmost endearing and genteelcharms..." |
3) "Genes are our fates and hormonesour masters. You can't break withinstinct. Living on a farm, I find weare not too far removed from theanimals. You only have to watch asow suckle her young and the boarwander off to realize we live more byour reflexes than our intellect." |
The events that began the furor over Dr.Berman actually took place on April 30,1970, when the Democrats' Committee onNational Priorities was meeting. Dr. Bermanrecalled for Nancy L. Ross that they werediscussing "vital issues like Vietnam and theMiddle East, and Pasty Mink brought upwomen's rights." Dr. Berman challengedMrs. Mink, saying that "women's physiologicaland psychological characteristics, especiallythe menstrual cycle and menopause,limit their potential for leadership."A number of Washington area physicianshave stated there simply is not scientific ormedical basis for this supposition, includingDr. Thomas Wilson, gynecologist at GeorgeWashington University.
When asked her views of her husband'sbehavior and statements, his wife Phoebe,who is a Baltimore real estate broker andthe owner-publisher of a small newspaper,asked not to become embroiled and added,"I am not a very interesting person anyway."
THE SPOKESWOMAN: This is a newnews service from the Urban ResearchCorporation, 5464 South Shore Drive, Chicago,Illinois 60615. Cost is $6 per year fora neatly printed, stapled news sheet coveringmajor national events concerned with allaspects of women's liberation (more accurately,with women's rights). Editor SusanDavis is doing a good job, and if you wantto know what is happening that will affectyour future, this is a good over-all look.Example of its usefulness can be seen bythis: I have been getting and reading PUBLISHER'SWEEKLY for fifteen years ofmy life, but I hardly ever look at thechildren's book section of this periodical.But in the July 30, 1970 SPOKESWOMAN(Vol. I, No. 3) I found an announcementthat sent me scurrying to the July 13, 1970PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY. Thirty-eightbook publishers (children's books) werequeried by PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY aboutthe effect women's liberation was having ontheir editorial considerations. Sixteen saidthe current movement was not affectingtheir editorial decisions; sixteen said itdefinitely was, and many of these citedtitles. The other six gave less specificanswers. Several publishers said they wereissuing books reflecting the new surge ofinterest in the rights of women. And mostinteresting of all, publishing house Crowell,which launched a WOMEN IN AMERICAseries in 1969, has scheduled a book on thelife of Rachel Carson called SEA ANDSKY, and for 1971, TO THE BARRICADES:THE ANARCHIST LIFE OFEMMA GOLDMAN. (See "My God It Happenedto Me Too" in August/September1970 issue of The LADDER.)
GLADYS GUY: Seattle, July 31, 1970.The first woman to hold the job of areadirector for the Labor Department's wageand hour division, Gladys Guy, was appointedto that post for the Washington,Alaska and Northern Idaho area on July 30,1970. Previously she was a Nevada fieldexaminer for the Veteran's Administration,a job causing her to cover seventeen countiesand 11,000 square miles of sagebrush.Speaking about sex discrimination, she said,"The law has provided us with a good basis,but it's women's responsibility to complainabout sex discrimination when it happensto them. I think someday we'll see completeequality but it won't be very soon.
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The best we can hope for now is fullenforcement of the equal pay law."
FEDERAL CONTRACTS TO SET JOBEQUALITY FOR WOMEN: NEW YORKTIMES: July 31, 1970. Secretary of LaborJames D. Hodgson announced that thegovernment would set employment goalsfor women in some federal contract workto eliminate discrimination because of sex.He explained this was to "achieve equalemployment opportunity for womenamong government contractors by applyingthe concept of goals and timetables." Thisis apparently to be similar to the PhiladelphiaPlan which was used to establishquotas for racial minorities in federal constructioncontracts totaling $500,000 ormore.
THE JOB SCENE: JULY AND AUGUST1970: Clippings from coast to coastshow that women are doing many jobs thathave previously been considered male territoryonly. THE MOTHER TRUCKERS, aNew York City based furniture and equipmentmoving firm, is owned and operatedby a woman and staffed primarily withwomen. Early in July, six women successfullyscaled 20,320-foot Mount McKinley inAlaska. Possibly the most publicized break-throughwas that accomplished by the fivefemale aquanauts who lived underwater fortwo weeks near St. John, Virgin Islands.Their two-week stay was part of a seven monthprogram called Tektite II, involvinga total of seventeen underwater researchmissions. The majority of the women arealready qualified scientists, and the rest areengaged in academic programs toward thatend.
. BEACHHEAD REVIEW: LADIESHOME JOURNAL: August 1970: Sixmonths ago a group of feminists installedthemselves in LADIES HOME JOURNALoffices, demanding the resignation of theeditor, and a few other things. In return forvacating the premises, LHJ gave the groupeight pages of a "future" issue. Finally inAugust 1970, eight pages of basic women'sliberation dogma appeared. Reading it fromthe viewpoint of having been reading thefield for two or so years thoroughly, noneof it seems new. For this magazine, thisaudience, however, it is very new, and theresults should be excellent. We were amusedto note The LADDER left off the list ofpublications, though interested in seeingthat the New York City group RADICALLESBIANS got listed under the organizations.
END OF BERMAN, ALL POWER TOTHE WOMEN: WASHINGTON POST: August1, 1970. Dr. Edgar F. Berman, whosesexist statements are reported at lengthelsewhere in this column; resigned his prestigiousposition on July 31, 1970 underpressure. When asked about his futureposition in the Democratic. Party, he replied,"Zero." In the same interview Dr.Berman seemingly cut his throat even moredeeply by reiterating his views on theemotional condition of women makingthem unfit for key positions. But to reallyreach the bottom of Dr. Berman's opinionof women, we quote: "The whole worldseems to be uptight if they will take this asa question of principle... the NationalPriorities Committee was discussing problemssuch as the Middle East, Vietnam and.the balance of payments when Mrs. Minktestified on women's rights. I think women'slib has its place, but not in that class."Goodbye, Dr. Berman.
TV GUIDE advertises itself as the magazinewith the most circulation. We hope it istrue, for the August 8, 1970 issue containsa short, basic article on women's liberationby Edith Efron. Quite rightly, she concentrateson the issues of concern connectedwith TV advertising, the portraying ofwomen as mindless slobs... However,she also names most of the leading spokes-womenand cites their over-all dissatisfactionwith media coverage, the distortions ofstatements in particular. We hope most ofTV Guide's audience read it... we hope.
FINAL ZAP TO DR. BERMAN: WASHINGTONSTAR: Sunday, August 9, 1970.The following letter appeared in LETTERSTO THE EDITOR:
SIR: Dr. Edgar Berman's (top DemocraticParty planner, who has resigned hisparty post after saying a. woman shouldn'tbe President) hysterical terror of "ragingstorms by female hormones" illuminates alot more about his own hormonal inadequaciesthan it does about human physiology.As an endocrinologist in good standing,I was startled to learn that ovarianhormones are toxic to brain cells. In Dr.Berman's physiological demonology thesenasty little sex steroids poison the humanbrain and reduce it to a pitiful caricature ofits potential competence.
This would make the human female oneof evolution's sickest jokes; and for onemad moment I thought that the gooddoctor was recommending universal castrationof female infants to preclude the
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further debasement of humanity's greatesttreasure--its rational brain.
In all fairness, though, I think thisoverstates his solution to the problem. Heonly warns that if these irrational creaturesare allowed to play responsible roles in ournow perfect society, then we shall live tosee a society riven by wars, famine, racism,inflation, pollution, panthers, student revoltand changing skirt lengths. This is a clarioncall to all those humans who are genetictesticular hormone makers to unite toprevent the decline and fall.
Hormones are destiny, he pontificates,and then as a final sad irony he raises thespectre of a Bay of Pigs directed by awoman instead of by John F. Kennedy. Dr.Berman selected a curious example of hormonalhealth.
John Kennedy, whom I admired greatly,did not suffer from storms of femalesteroids, but it is well known that he didsuffer from a deficiency of adrenal corticalsteroids which are vital for normal responsesto life stresses. He was treated withcortical hormones especially during periodsof emergency. What price hormonal controlof destiny then, Dr. Berman?
All of this clarifies to some degree whywe Democrats lost the 1968 election. If Dr.Herman's (he formerly was personal physicianto H.H.H.) political advice to HubertHumphrey was as sound as his knowledgeof medicine, the whole enterprise wasdoomed from the start.
Dr. Estelle R. Ramey
Professor
Department of Physiology & Biophysics
Georgetown University Medical School
FROM FOURTEENTH TO NINETEENTHTO NOW, MERELY 102YEARS: WASHINGTON, D.C., August 10,1970. The House of Representatives, by avote of 350 to 15, voted today to amendthe constitution to prohibit discriminationon the basis of sex. The 14th amendment,ratified in 1868, states clearly that no stateshall deny to any person within its jurisdictionthe equal protection of the law.Some women thought that included them,but in 1872 when they tried to register tovote in the presidential election, they wererebuffed and the courts held that the statescould make such a "REASONABLE" exceptionof the law. Fifty years later, the19th amendment finally gave women thevote, after quite a fight. Today's vote is thefirst time the House has ever voted on theamendment which has been INTRODUCED
caption
EVERY YEAR SINCE 1923. Even now,with such a large vote, fifteen men still feltthey had some unspecified god-given rightto hold women as slaves. Chief enemy--and a man we feel will not. rest easily in hisgrave--is Representative Emanuel Celler, aBrooklyn Democrat who arrived in theHouse the same year the amendment did.1923. The Judiciary Committee, over whichMr. Celler presided for 21 years, never heldhearings on the amendment. It wasn't importantenough to consider. Mr. Celler, inhis last ditch battle to stop the passage,said, "There is no equality except in acemetery," which presumably means womencan look forward to equal rights whenthey die.
THESE MEN, ALONG WITH CELLER,VOTED TO KEEP YOU A SLAVE: RepresentativeThomas G. Abernethy of Mississippi,John D. Dingell of Michigan.Lucien N. Nedzi of Michigan, W.R. Poage ofTexas and Jerome R. Waldie of California,all Democrats; and John W. Byrnes ofWisconsin, Glenn R. Davis of Wisconsin,David W. Dennis of Indiana, Earl F. Landgrebeof Indiana, Paul N. McCloskey, Jr. ofCalifornia, William M. McCullouch of Ohio,John P. Saylor of Pennsylvania, John G.Schmitz of California, and Charles E. Wigginsof California, all Republicans.
MUCH MORE TO BE DONE: Now thatthe House has passed this essential act, thesenate must pass the legislation by a two-thirdsvote, which it has done twice in thepast. Following that almost automatic step,each of 38 state legislatures must ratify it toput it into the constitution, and there is notime limit on the state action. So the battleis not yet won. (NOTE: Opposition hasrisen in the Senate. More news next issue.)
PROMINENT SUPPORT FOR -SAME
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SEX MARRIAGE FROM, RITA E.HAUSER: St. Louis, August 10, 1970.Laws prohibiting marriage of two personsof the same sex are unconstitutional, RitaE. Hauser, New York lawyer and U.S.representative to the United Nations HumanRights Commission, stated today atthe American Bar Association's panel onwomen's liberation and the constitution.
"Such a requirement," Mrs. Hauser said,"predicates reproduction as the legal considerationof marriage, and that view, Isubmit, is no longer reasonable or consistentwith fact. Indeed, one can argue thatlimiting reproduction has become a socialgoal and I know of no better way ofaccomplishing that than marriage betweenthe same sexes. I am not arguing this as asocial policy; I am arguing that the right tomarry, a right guaranteed by law, cannot bepremised on sex distinctions which serve todeny equal protection of the law to allpersons, whatever their tastes in life maybe."
Mrs. Hauser went on to say that shefeels men should not be compelled tosupport women to whom they are notmarried except where minor children areinvolved, and that women should be draftedon an equal basis with men.
DIRTY POLITICS ALWAYS WITH US:UPI, August 11, 1970. RepresentativeClement Zablocki, Democrat-Wisconsin,said today Vice President Spiro Agnew oranother spokesman should state whetherthe Nixon administration endorses thestatement of U.N. delegate Rita E. Hauserthat marriages should be allowed for membersof the same sex. In a floor speech,Zablocki said, "Mrs. Hauser's speech to merepresents an example of the moral rotinfecting the nation." He said "such nonsense"did not come from a radical butfrom a "responsible official" of the administration.Mrs. Hauser is the U.S. Representativeto the United Nations Human Rights- Commission.
RITA CHANGES HER TUNE A BIT:SINGING UNDER PRESSURE? WASHINGTONPOST: August 13, 1970. Apparentlyalarmed at the responses to. herstatements at the American Bar Association'spanel, with Representative WayneHays (D-Ohio) asking for her resignation(asserting that she was "promoting homosexualityand lesbianism") and thehomosexual segment cheering her on, Mrs.Hauser attempted to repudiate those remarks."I personally don't think it's desirablesocial policy at all to legalize marriagebetween members of the same sex," shesaid; "a very strong argument can be made"for such legalization if the Equal RightsAmendment becomes law, she emphasized.The UPI story reported in this column didnot, of course, mention the Equal RightsAmendment discussion, and Mrs. Hauserfelt her remarks were taken out of context,and actually she had made them facetiously.Confronted also by the report ofWhite House press secretary Ronald Zieglerthat President Nixon "does not support norhas he supported nor will he supportmarriages between the same sex," she attemptedto clarify her statements by emphasizingagain the ominous implications ofthe Equal Rights Amendment which primarilyconcerned her. In response to herrepudiation of her statements, Hays said,"Maybe she'd better quit making silly argumentslike that, even facetiously, in public."
WOMEN'S LIBERATION: August 26,1970. PREPARATORY PARTY AND JILLJOHNSTON: August 10, 1970. At a partyheld to drum up funds for the August 26,1970 women's strike, VILLAGE VOICEcolumnist Jill Johnston stripped to herunderpants and went swimming in the pool.Various papers carried the story: The NEWYORK TIMES writer Charlotte Curtis gavesuch a confused and venomous accountingthat it is hard to tell precisely what happened.AP write-up which appeared aroundthe country seemed more to the point.Some 200 women attended the party at thehome of Mrs. Robert Scull. The sponsorswere Betty Friedan and Gloria VanderbiltCooper (the latter failed to show up,reportedly because her husband forbadeit?). Representative Patsy Mink, heroine ofthe hour for having put Dr. Berman (seeelsewhere in this column) out of a job andinto hot water, spoke on the need foreducating the public to the presence of sexdiscrimination. Journalist Gloria Steinemprophesied that the 1972 election campaignwould concentrate heavily on women's liberation.During Miss Steinem's talk, JillJohnston took her swim. She identifiedherself as a writer and a Lesbian and saidher swim was in protest of those in themovement for women's liberation whodon't like Lesbians. While not advocatingunorthodox swims, this episode does dramaticallyillustrate the one major weakness inthe women's liberation movement. Unlikeany other "minority" group, women have
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the power to literally take over the worldtomorrow If they will band together to doso; all they have to do is accept all women.
(A FULL REPORT ON THE EVENTSOF AUGUST 26, 1970, WOMEN'S LIBERATIONDAY, WILL BE IN THENEXT ISSUE OF THE LADDER. PRELIMINARYREPORTS FROM ON-THE-SCENEOBSERVERS IN BOTH WASHINGTON,D.C. AND NEW YORK CITYWOULD INDICATE THAT THE NATIONALNEWS MEDIA DELIBERATELYPLAYED DOWN THE ENORMOUSNUMBER OF PARTICIPANTS INTHESE TWO CITIES....
Poetry
Afternoon Libation
icy sunlight
drips on the sidewalk
and I stand here waiting
for the bus
wondering
did I ever have a life?
has it always been
like this?
(three pills/day & I
guarantee you'll never
feel depressed)last night
I watched
the stars in their
vaguely Greek dance
and
I felt the old sorrow
again
will it go on
like this?
(last summer I thought
I lived--yes, I lived
once--once beside the
blue-green waves of
some then hysterical
now calm sea)alas that I did not die
Ophelia
(sheltered by
my madness)Kathleen McKinnon
To a Girl on a Swing
The sun breaks over her head
Breaks out the banquet of an afternoonSwing, little girl
Alone in the park
Her shoes kick out a valley of dust
beneath the swing.The sun in a slow roll
Stirs up the dust
Traces a fine sweat on her faceSwing, all your afternoon.
Time enough, to learn the ways of men
Splayed-out hands
Eyes like steel-tipped quarrels in the bow
Cocked and aimed
Time to learn the walk, of a deer
through the gantlet
Of hunters on the streetIf I could stay in the park with you
And listen to the slow creak of the swing
And the sparrow's song of victory
And the silent orchestra of summer fire...The click of a bolt in breech.
is our sunset
Brings down the day
Brings me to my feetGo home.
The dust is down.
A night breeze rides in the empty swing.Martha Shelley
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Lovesong
"I loved you, Atthis, long ago, when my own
girlhood was still all flowers, and you--
you seemed to me a small, ungainly child."--SapphoWhen snow lies heavy
and I am old,
will you recall
half-filled ashtrays
down the corridors
and tavern rooms
of your million homes?Will you,
being much older,
remember the young girl
who stood before you
in midnight bars
and plucked strings
of an invisible lyre
while awkwardly singing
to you alone
hymns of some special
moonlight,
submerging the evening
in the water-fire of
one personal mortality?Perhaps you,
being so very old,
will forget the gifts she
offered you?Or will you recall
fondly
that she was just another
awkward young girl, never
having realized that
she
consecrated more than
your cigarettes,
your beers, and,
the minutes of your time
with the godhood
of her presence?Kathleen McKinnon
(Paul Mariah, poet, is editor of MANROOT,a San Francisco based poetry journal. Hislist of credits would fill two pages. A trueliberationist, Paul is a supporter of Women'sLiberation, Gay Liberation, Lesbian Liberation.Or, more properly, he loves freepeople..
THE UNSHAME
Though you and I both know
soon we'll be walking down
the street holding hands,
I must make you understand
(please, take my hand)
...they're staring at us.I do not blush from shame.
I only wish to be held tighter
(yes, it's true we're gay.
Turn our cheeks? One f.ing finger
to you, Dearie, and you and you:)But we'll hold hands in silence
and walk on. I do not know
what they said to turnt-backs
only that I kept steady pace
with you, Love, at my side.I love you. I do not lie.
(Can't you tell by the smile
on our faces? And by our hands
and fingers that are entwined!)
Our hands have grown together
& understand the clutch of the other.Paul Mariah
AN INVITATION TO DANCE
There are those who do
and there are those who talk
about doing.I ain't the latter.
But the Ladder,
sideswiping the structure
trying to balance
the ball-going belle
all-Jawjaed up
ready to swing
and be swung.Let's blend simultaneously
and counterpoint
the stars, our nights,beyond our being.
Come on, let's ball,
commingle and let go--
and danceInside one another.
Paul Mariah
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And Everyone...
"Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment; chagrin d'amour
dure toute la vie."I am the one
whom all love
one
instant.
Once a dove
now grey sparrowed
stabbed
by
shyness
I met Lois--
guitar-playing
Lois
(incidentally always
wearing a blue windbreaker
manager of the softball team
jewelry-artist
sign-painter
gift-shop owner)
Lois
was intrigued
by the silence
I offered her
only.One one infinitely cool
summer night
Lois
took me in her arms--
next morning
we were
strangers.Kathleen McKinnon
HEAD START
Because I came out of the womb
head first
does not mean I got a
head start
on the world;
for when my feet hit the ground,
I found
that pigeon-toes walk
on each other:
hence, no progress.
The scars on my ankles
are the only badges I have.Paul Mariah
SEPARATION
My soul goes astray
in separation
I am not I
and I know
you are not youSomething comes between
a sharp steel wedge,
hammered hard
clefts a log
that was a treeAnne Hayden
POTTED PLANT
This new pale stalk
of half-born leaf
from this silent room
tries to coax
passion's mingled breath
like ours that unfurled
the jungle-full leaf
below.Anne Hayden
OUT TO SEA
I only know the counting
of moments
until I can kiss you
and feel you tight
against my thigh
and know that love's waters
from our burdened love
are mixed and are abundantAnne Hayden
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SOME TIME
Sometime I shall lie still and think of you.
My scheme of nerves shall rest like a small town
At night, beneath the moon, while up and down
The byways move the servicers: those who
Attend the sleepers' needs, yet scarcely stir
The silence--thus, serene as darkened streets
The thought of you will move. Till bell-tower greets
The light, I'll hug the fireside warmth, and purr...But not just now! Times Square on New Year's Eve
Were some vast morgue compared to me tonight
Seething with sentience, every exit tight
With traffic mad for home yet cannot leave...Some time I shall lie still and think of you,
But not when hunger's charge has run me through.Carol Wilde
EARLY MORNING
When the sun was just up, and the air
was sharp and as clear as crystal,
I walked alone slowly, dejectedly,
kicking the ground of my stubborness.
Leaves fell on me, but I did not feel them,
I came to a dead log and kicked it away,
and where it had been lay an object.
I picked up the dead robin of my dreams,
and remembered yesterday.Lyn Collins
INSPIRATION
"Some day," I said, out of that mauve-edged lull
Left in the pulsing wake of passion spent,
"Some day, my exquisite one, I'll write some lines
That are worthy of you: delicate, powerful, warm--
A play, it may be: wonder, come to life,
And breaking in a strong pentameter..."She turned her soft sweet body over against
My bones. Her great dark eyes came open wide
With black stars down in them; her nostrils flared
A little, and from between those sculptured lips
There came a whisper, sliding along my flesh,
Thrust to the core of me, sudden and deep,
By her loveliness, by her lifted breast:
"And sell it?"Carol Wilde
EMPTINESS
I walked alone at daybreak
along the beach,
and came upon two seagulls
resting at the water's edge.
At my approach they flew
away up into the sky.
Watching them I
reached for your hand,
and clutched instead emptiness.Lyn Collins
QUESTION
As a child I walked
cold streets of cement,
The sunshine fell on others,
and nothing touched me.
When I was twelve
my body changed and
boys looked at it.
A question arose in my mind.
When I was thirteen
Andrea kissed me in
the girl's bathroom,
and my question was answered.Lyn Collins
AN ENDING
She sat there, lost from me,
belonging to no one but herself.
Alone, as I knew myself to be
I could see no reason for staying,
So I got up, walked out,
and shut the door of the house
where I used to live.Lyn Collins
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INSOMNIA
Kind sleep evades her in this midnight hour--
Her heavy lids, rising and falling
Like closing curtains, review again
Kaleidoscopic closed circuit memories.Cold cream lines the pores of a youthful face
Where old age stood upon it hours ago
To play a woman far beyond her years--
A character not too unlike herself.And-the still-sprayed hair, sagely grey
Like brittle hay in winter snow, marks off
The pointed nose and full round lips
Beneath the sleepless, vacant flickering eyes.Her restless body shifts from left to right,
Turning away with a questioning sigh
To try to separate herself again--
The actress from the acted--in her mind.She turns once more, but sleep evades her still,
And she will turn and turn until the dawn:
Reviewing what she was and is to be,
Deciding how to meet the coming day.Robin Jordan
REBUTTALS
No, Daddy, I'm not ashamed
Of staying in her bed last night,
Last week, last month--all the times
You knew and never guessed.Now I think my body quite complete:
Woman's parts, a woman's heart,
Blood as quick as any man's,
And restless, as you are now.Can you remember what it meant
The first time you slept with your girl?
Were you ashamed to be a man?
Then why would you shame us?For twenty years, her figure, dressed
In tattered levis, moccasins,
And ragged sweatshirt, stalked along
Not knowing what it feared or sought.Now our naked bodies stand
Above the cluttered clothes we will
Not wear again: Rejoice with us--
We would not change things if we could.Robin Jordan
my only name!
in the dark arms of
this fragile night
i cannot find you;
the you that is me.
yet deep within
i see the real morning
and in this lonely moment,
i know what it was
that made
me in this shape.
i reached out
to touch every surface of life,
defacing myself in the mirror
but
while in that terrible center,
something
spoke to me and said,
"you are not alone."
and the truth of
this thought
raised me from my death.Georgette Morreaux
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LESBIANA
By GENE DAMON
The discovery of Lesbian titles, especiallythose where no mention is made of thefact in reviews, is a chancy business. Formany many years it was difficult becausereviewers would take almost any out toavoid mentioning Lesbians or implying suchmight exist in a book. Now, with the recent"liberation" of our literature, it is old hat...and no one bothers.
But the search methods remain the same...read the reviews, beg people to tellyou of things they find, and, best of all,watch for nuances in one book that let youknow that sooner or later the author islikely to write in the field.
This worked out beautifully well forGene Damon until she also became editorof THE LADDER, which cut down onreading time and made review reading afrantic and cursory matter. So, I apologizefor missing what is surely one of the finerminor studies in recent years, Janice Elliott'sANGELS FALLING, N.Y., Alfred A.Knopf, 1969. And worse, I probably neverwould have found it if a kind reader inColumbus, Ohio, had not written to askwhy there had not been a review in thiscolumn. It was chagrining to run to myfiles and find the "watch" card made forMiss Elliott back in 1966 over her novel,THE GODMOTHER, which is not pertinentbut which made me feel she would enterthe field someday.
ANGELS FALLING is a family chroniclenovel with none of the flaws usuallyfound in this very enjoyable and verypopular genre. The mother of them all, LilyGarland, is dying, and the family gathers towatch and wait... and while they do, wehear all about it. Lily, born Lilian Candishin 1901, grows up to join the heroic ranksof the first feminists... to burn with thezeal to free women, and to fall under thespell of Maud Weatherby. Maud is a romanticopportunist and women's rights, thesuffragette movement, just one of her rolesin this book. But Lily is brought to Maud'sside by the awkward and strangely beautifulConnie Garland, with whom she falls ardentlyand totally in love. Connie, in ananguished scene that surely must be implyingmore than the novelist cares to explicate,rejects Lily. Some time later, accidentally,Lily sees Connie kissed by the evilMaud Weatherby; and off she runs to thewaiting arms of Connie's brother, weak andstupid Andrew Garland. The children ofthis pair are the vulture children around thedying bedside.
The downfall of all is timed to the deathof Lily, on whom little blame should rest,unattractive though she becomes before thenovel's end. Every character in this book isreal and believed... alone enough creditto the novelist. Daughter Frances, seenearlier in the novel before Lily and Andrew,who actually began it all, is as classic anexample of repressed Lesbianism as literaturehas to offer. Most will like best theearly third of the book, but it's a goodstory and Miss Elliott is most talented.Looking further into her work, it seems shehas written seven novels, only three of themout in this country or to come out here.Included is a new one, THE KINDLING,which will be watched. I'd be grateful ifsome kind English reader might check herearlier titles out for us, all published inEngland by Seeker and Warburg as follows:CAVE WITH ECHOES, 1963; SOMNAM-BULISTS,1964; BUTTERCUP CHAIN,1967; THE SINGING HEAD, 1968.
Reprints finally got checked out and sowe have the very early Kingsley Amis 19.61novel, TAKE A GIRL LIKE YOU, out fromSignet, 1970; Ernest Borneman's THE MANWHO LOVED WOMEN, Signet, 1970; SusanSontag's THE BENEFACTOR, Avon,1970; and VERY surprisingly, a reissue ofAnn Bannon's second novel in the famousseries, I AM A WOMAN, Fawcett, 1970.For those of you who have NOT read AnnBannon, don't deprive yourselves any longer.Her almost classic series of paperbackLesbian novels are collector's items thesedays.
There is something intensely shockingabout reading "The Invisible Sorority" byNancy Love in THE IMPROPER PHILADELPHIANS,N.Y., Weybright and Talley,1970. This book is a collection of "in-depth"articles from PHILADELPHIAMAGAZINE, and the verso of the title pageincludes dates back to 1964... whichmust not be far from the original publicationdate of this article... which refers toDRUM as if it existed, and to the possiblebeginnings of the short-lived Philadelphiachapter of Daughters of Bilitis some manyyears ago. The shock is two-sided--therelative reassurance that yes, indeed, stilltoday, many Lesbians live bar-oriented lives(the milieu study begins with the inhabitantsof a gay bar for women); and, on the
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other hand, that there is little else in thearticle that remains true today, so somethings must be better. Nancy Love, it mustbe mentioned, was uncommonly good inher work. At the time of writing, she couldbe considered unusually brave. There is theusual tendency to find the more unusualLesbians and concentrate on them, but thehandling is not unkind. For this reviewerthere was some real shock in finding thedistorted life story (seriously and erroneouslychanged) of a dear and close friendand long time LADDER contributor, JodyShotwell. The disparity in the account ofJody's life (supposedly an interview andtherefore presumed to be accurate) is seriousenough to possibly cast doubts on theintegrity of the reporter from this standpoint,but again, there is no question aboutthe sympathy of the writer. It's hard toimagine who will buy this book, outsideperhaps of the Philadelphia area. But for anostalgic look at the way the world wassome few four? five? six? years ago...o-k.
Cellestine Ware has contributed anenormously important basic examination ofWOMAN POWER: THE MOVEMENT FORWOMEN'S LIBERATION, N.Y., Tower,1970. Though I have faithfully followed themovement publications to an extent I suspectfar surpasses the general reader interest,this book provided to me my firststep-by-step look at exactly WHAT happenedon a daily level in Boston, Chicago,New York, etc. ... after Betty Friedan'sNOW got the current resurgence of interestin the liberation of women off the ground.Cellestine Ware, herself one of the foundersof the organization known as THE NEWYORK RADICAL FEMINISTS, in ChapterOne of this book outlines the entire historyof the major "national" (in terms of publicityand media interest) groups, NONE ofthem older than 1967... and all begunafter NOW. However, NOW has literallynothing in common with the many otherwomen's liberation groups. NOW is interestedin shifting the present balance of powerfrom totally MALE to equally male andfemale (which does seem the most reasonable,if it is possible to do--IF). The othergroups, most of them NOT leftist (nomatter what you read, they are primarilyapolitical in terms of the male version ofpolitics and they are not radical except intheir own choice of nomenclature), wantradical changes only in the ways in whichwomen live in the world. Some wantchanges that smack of socialism, but theyare only nibbling at the edges (i.e. day carecenters for children and like projects). Afew of the groups reject males totally in thesense of rejecting anything unfit, but theseare the exception rather than the rule. It isimmediately clear that it takes less than 100pages of a paperback book to see that eachand every one of these groups is makingidentical mistakes to those made in the first20 years of the Lesbian and homosexualrights movements. There are too many ofthem, they do not communicate well, theyare not well formed, they are not only notwell led but reject the idea of leadershipentirely. Some seem to feel that "leaders"means men... for some reason womenare equal but aren't allowed to be varied inthe sense that some lead better than others.There is a "no-no" word, elitist, which theyseem to want to avoid. It is, however, notpossible to keep talent from shining, andMiss Ware is herself an excellent example...so from these pages come some powerfulnames, Ti-Grace Atkinson, ShulamithFirestone, Joreen Freeman, Naomi Weisstein,Pamela Allen, Ellen Willis, Ann Koedt,and on and on.
After documenting today's action, CellestineWare goes on to cover black women,political possibilities, media treatment (bad,bad) and comparisons between the 19thcentury feminists and today's, women's liberationists.In her 176 pages, includingcursory bibliography and references, shemanages to mention the word "homosexual"twice... the forbidden "Lesbian"never comes up...
Horizon Press, New York, has done theliterate world an honorable and lovingservice by republishing Margaret Anderson'sfirst two autobiographical titles and publishingher third portrait of her distinguishedlife... MY THIRTY YEARS'WAR, first published in 1930, THE FIERYFOUNTAINS, first published in 1951, andnow THE STRANGE NECESSITY, 1970.
Faithful readers will recall that in theJuly, 1968, issue of THE LADDER Idiscussed the book, LADIES BOUNTIFUL,which was most reticent about the personallife of Miss Anderson and her most famousfriend, Jane Heap, while heaping muchpraise on her head over the magnificentLITTLE REVIEW. Margaret Andersonfounded and published, virtually alone, themost famous and most prestigious of all thelittle magazines. For fifteen years THELITTLE REVIEW was the magazine that
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carried the writers who mattered. Therewere others, but none before, during, orsince, THE LITTLE REVIEW have beenquite as important to the over-all enormousfield of literature. If Miss Anderson hadbeen, had done, nothing else, she would beassured her crown of stars.
MY THIRTY YEARS' WAR is mostlyabout THE LITTLE REVIEW... andabout the electric and fascinating JaneHeap, who was Margaret's constant companionand co-editor during most of theseearly years. Many of you will have alreadyread this book, but it is more than worthreading again... and it is astonishing howvery many of the distinguished writers shediscovered are our "classic" contemporaryauthors today. THE FIERY FOUNTAINS,by prejudice of this reviewer her finestbook, covers her love affair with GeorgetteLeblanc, which lasted from their meetingabout 1920 until Georgette's death in 1941.THE FIERY FOUNTAINS is about that lifetogether. For those of you who will writeto ask if I did not know about this bookbefore (in its original edition back in 1951)I answer happily that, yes, it was given tome as a gift by a book dealer many yearsago... but it is not a whole book in asense, and is, while being best, still leftimproperly illuminated until you reach herthird, and possibly(?) last, volume, THESTRANGE NECESSITY. This, one immediatelysenses, is the real Margaret Anderson.She no longer possesses the verypowers of prose that fascinate in her earlierbooks; but the passing of years, and thehardships of World War II and the thingsthat have happened since, including thelong wait for this magnificent publishingenterprise to happen, color her most recentautobiography.
So they are not separate... though itis undoubtedly true that when the first waswritten the second was not yet considered,and the first two were long done when thethird was attempted. Name collectors willbe happy, for most of the best of the bestare included. Her friends were, are all themagic names in literature... and paintingand music. Janet Planner, NEW YORKER'sfamous "Genet," contributes a very movingpreface the reissued FIERY FOUNTAINS,citing the reasons for its greatness,the magic of Georgette Leblanc with MargaretAnderson... a very special union.
THE STRANGE NECESSITY is full ofloving flaws... much space given to theeccentricities and personal tastes of theauthor, but when one is Margaret Anderson,one is allowed much space. It is also anecessary book, for it tells happily thatMargaret was not doomed to be alone afterthe end of Jane Heap and the death ofGeorgette Leblanc. In June, 1942, eightmonths after the death of Georgette,aboard an ocean liner bound from Franceto New York, Margaret met Dorothy Caruso,widow of Enrico, and in very likestory book fashion they lived together fromthen until Dorothy's death in 1955. Hoveringabout the edges of her life, always, isthe enigmatic figure of her nurse-companion-housekeeper,Monique, who lived tobe 92, dying in 1961. The memoirs stop in1961 except for a "happy" preface notedated 1968 about finding a publisher. Sincethis is 1970, and this reviewer knows thebooks have been scheduled for well over ayear before their final appearance, there is agap... the years from 1961 until now.Perhaps they are recorded... perhaps not.We are lucky if they are and if they willsomeday appear.
Horizon Press, however, deserves thevote of thanks now... from us all. Don'tmiss reading about the world of MargaretAnderson. Few are privileged with her gifts...few bright enough to work to enjoylife as well as she has. The illustrations, bythe way, are magnificent.
More Genevieve Taggard, from the samesource as that cited last month, the poem"Monody in Monotone" from LONGVIEW, N.Y., Harper, 1942. It's as pertinent...or more properly variant, as any ofhers.
Dell reissued its $1.25 edition of THEFEMININE MYSTIQUE by Betty Friedan,no doubt in honor of the current flood ofbooks on women's liberation, women'srights.
New movements, however old in termsof time, inspire new magazines, and women'sliberation has inspired several. We havealready covered WOMEN, A JOURNAL OFLIBERATION, a very ambitious not literaryquarterly; APHRA, the magnificentliterary quarterly; and RADICAL THERAPIST,which only somewhat covers thisarea. Another new one is UP FROMUNDER out of New York City, which isbasic, down to earth, practical and sensible...and very interesting. They describethemselves as a "new magazine, by andabout women." The publishing effort isdone by an independent group of women inthe general women's liberation movement.
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Address Is 339 Lafayette Street, New York,N.Y. 10012. The cost for five issues is$2.50. No fiction, no frills... just articlesabout the nitty gritty of life.
ICONOGRAPHS, May Swenson's latestcollection of poetry, N.Y., Scribner's, 1970,succeeds to the extent of its intentions, forit is frankly experimental even for the noteasily classified Miss Swenson. The explanatorynote in the rear of the book is literallynecessary to fully see what she is doing.This makes me think that if it were whollysuccessful in its own right, the note neednot have been added. That quibbling aside,there are some delightful moments for eyeand heart. The marvelous Lesbian poem, "ATrellis for R," is included... along withsome very special "views" of ordinarythings: a visit to a James Bond movie in"The James Bond Movie" and immediatelyfollowing the patiently bored "It Rains."Miss Swenson, one of our most prominentliving poets, has mostly pleased her all timefans here, but it's an interesting collection.
Haunted by Emma Goldman (see CrossCurrents this issue and "My God It Happenedto Me Too!" in August/September,1970 issue), the woman who was unceremoniouslytossed out of the U.S. in 1917and is now being described as "the greatestlady anarchist of them all," Beacon Presshas issued a quality paperback reprint ofREBEL IN PARADISE: A BIOGRAPHYOF EMMA GOLDMAN, for $3.95. Thisvery obscure biography was first issued in1961 by University of Chicago Press. It isNOT a comment on the biography contentsor the biographer, Richard Drinnon, to callit obscure. As most of you know, universitypress publications aren't likely to becomebest sellers, aren't likely to be much reviewed...and certainly, it's unthinkablethat many of them sell. We are still planningan article on Miss Goldman for a futureissue, but it is amusing to see everythingfrom TIME MAGAZINE to the publishinghouses rally round the flag, girls (apologiesto Max Shulman!). But it is an electionyear, women; and it is said that. 3,000,000more women will vote in 1970 than men.With a little help from our friends, we couldrun the country.
GOOD LUCK, MISS WYCOFF, bynoted dramatist William Inge, Boston, Atlantic-Little,Brown, 1970, is a disaster.This is sad, for Mr. Inge is a wonderfulwriter in his field, but he should not,apparently, have attempted a novel. MissWycoff of the title is of no interest here,being an overdrawn and poorly understoodKansas school teacher. There is a brief bitof Lesbian Interest in that two of herfriends, the arts and crafts teacher and thephysical education teacher (no, no, notthose two again!!) are said to be lovers...they live together, and another teacherprovides possibly the novel's only funnyline, "they seem as happy as honeymooners."Typecasting is tiling. A readerrecently pointed out that many of theLesbians in fiction have grey eyes... evencited Jane Rule as having been guilty ofgiving grey eyes to her heroine in her earliernovel, DESERT OF THE HEART. Coloredcontacts, anyone?
Recently, in writing for a review copy ofa Lesbian novel and indicating an interest inany material the publisher might be issuingthat concerned women's liberation, I receiveda review copy of BEYOND THELOOKING GLASS, by Kathrin Perutz,N.Y., Morrow, 1970. I did rot expect to,but I found it more compelling than thenovel I'd requested... found myselfreading in fascination just what Americanwomen (and to some extent, Americanmen) DO to "enhance" their attractiveness.Miss Perutz is a novelist... indeed, I'vehad the pleasure of reviewing two of herbooks, the fairly major Lesbian novel, THEGARDEN, 1962, and her minor malehomosexual title, A HOUSE ON THESOUND, 1964. It-is said that most areas offactual writing can be done by hacks. As ahack I agree, but it is delightful to readnon-fiction written by a good, imaginativeand professional writer with a solid backgroundin creative writing. The book isdivided into sections on makeup, hair,remaking the form from a to z, diet in everysense of the word, models and celebrities,unisex as a style and life form, what it islike in a beauty retreat... etc. It becomesclear that the 17th and 18th centurylimericks on the composition of the bride(and, to be fair, sometimes the groom) areonly too accurate today. There are somefew women in this country who can avoidmakeup and still function in the system andearn money, but very very few. If you areonly a lipstick and powder slave to theworld, and then only on the job... this isstill a book to read. The torture, hideousbeyond belief, to which human beingswillingly and eagerly submit themselves forthe pathetic returns has to be read indocumented form to be comprehended...and even then you aren't really going
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to believe it. Women who starve themselvesnearly to death, sit up in bed to avoidwrinkling their complexion that alreadyowes its existence to being scrubbed withpumice and similar abrasives... operationsthat, with the exception of anesthetics,rival the Dachau experiments in termsof human suffering... this has to do withlife, with love, with success?.
FADEOUT, by Joseph Hansen, N.Y.,Harper and Row, 1970, is a glorious "mainstream"debut for Mr. Hansen, who is verywell known under a pseudonym. In themystery writing world, having Joan Kahn ofHarper's choose your book is a high honor,and. FADEOUT richly deserved beingchosen. Dave Brandstetter, recently deprivedby death of his lifelong lover, Rod, isan insurance investigator looking into thedeath (?) or disappearance of Fox Olson, ajohnny-come-lately folk singing radio personalitysuccess. The heart of the matterlies in the hearts of the characters, itself anunusual approach to mystery writing, wherethis much characterization is seldom employedand hardly ever with this degree ofsuccess. Out interest is in Dave's long timefriend, Madge. Joseph Hansen handlesMadge convincingly and even provides herwith an ironic happy ending, though hedeserves a swat on the wrist for his neatreversal of typecasting in having Dave thefaithful, true and non-promiscuous lover ofRod for years and Madge the partner changingtype who has had perhaps 10 girlsin 20 years. Good book, good mystery,highly recommended.
You're Stepping on My Model T
By JANE ALDEN
We stayed in a small motel in Burlingame,California, that entire summer of1947. I was eleven then and Very Tired ofMoving. While my parents scoured the BayArea in search of a two-bedroom ranchstyle they could almost afford, I sunbathedand read dozens of Nancy Drew mysteries.Then I got bored and became a knuckle cracker.When my knuckles began drowningout traffic on the Bayshore Highway, Daddecided that Something had to be done. Hegave me a $2.95 miniature Model T Fordhobby kit and told me to have fun buildingit.
The hobby kit contained three thinlysliced pieces of balsa wood, dye-marked forcutting, and an instruction sheet somewhatmore complicated than Ford's original blue-printof the Model T. I soon doubled Dad'sinvestment in my therapy, buying tubes of
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glue, bottles of Mandarin Red and GlossyBlack paint, sandpaper, and an X-acto knifeset, with ten different blades. An openSamsonite suitcase, spread across a luggagebench, served as my work table.
Soon the Samsonite was pock-markedwith glue droplets; but to ray relief theframework of the Model T began to resemblethe instruction diagrams, give or take abrace or two. I remedied the defects, for Iwas a perfectionist then; my miniature carwould be the exact copy of the garishmodel on the cover of the hobby kit or else.
As I was applying nearly the last coat ofgold trim, Mom read that a hobby show wasgoing to be given at the neighborhoodYMCA. We decided to enter my Model T inthe miniature car contest and filled out theentry label "J. Alden, 11 Yrs.", rather thanbetray my. feminine status to the judges. Wewere sure they'd be prejudiced in favor of"Y" members and Boy Scouts. Even then.
The final day of the contest, Mom and Ithreaded our way through the trousers andthe tee-shirts, and eventually found myModel T. A bright blue first prize ribbonwas Scotch-taped to a badly torn fender,Headlamps dangled over the bent bumperand cotton stuffing billowed from gashes inthe leather-covered seats. The terrible andinexplicable damage to my summer's workwas so complete that Mom silently removedthe blue ribbon and put the toy ear in atrashcan as we walked back to the motel.
I refused to even look at the blueribbon. Mom tucked it in her cosmetic caseand later pasted it into one of her scrap-books.Fortunately for my knuckles, schoolbegan a week later. We even managed tofind a house, though it looked more quonset-huttishthan ranch style.
Last year my mother died. I visited herlast and most Contemporary ranch house inPalo Alto and rummaged through herhoardings of a lifetime like a '49-er. Some-how,I came across that first prize blueribbon from the YMCA, still a cheerfulbright blue, though smelling of mold. Besideit in the scrapbook, my mother hadwritten, "For merit or as an apology?" I'vesometimes wondered about that, too. Manyprizes are for both.
(Jane Alden, biographer and shortstory writer, frequently contributes tothe Ladder.)
GOOD OLD GOLDEN RULE DAYS
By DIANA STERLING
I couldn't have been less cut out for aclass in cooking than I was, so it may beunusual to say that I signed up for cookingin my sophomore year in high school; but Isay it, because I did. The class offerednothing but respite from one's academicpursuits. It was an unnecessary interlude inthe business of school life. But when Ifound SHE had signed up for it, I joined theclass..
Previously she had been everywhere Ilooked except in any of my classes. Andwhen I saw her in the corridors and comingout of the girls' gym I felt an unaccountablemagnetism.
That semester we made everything incooking class from tomato aspic to eggcustard. And though it is said one learns bydoing, I cannot say that I learned what Iwas doing. But it was at that time, even so,that I began to learn myself. There was thecrazy joy of a knowledge I was on thepuberty brink of. I consumed soft drinks bythe barrel and loved the songs and dances itwas time to love. And I had a dog with a
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square face and a brother who taught ittricks. I went sleigh riding with our bunchin the ghosty winter world I lad known allmy life when that season came around.(The bunch being a pride of lions who wereas acutely alive and as eager to be as was I.)
But, there was something. Even then. Itgot me down deep, where I lived. I wantedto sing the song other sinners sang propersinners and honorable. I did not know.What? What was an honorable sin? Chewinggum in church might fit the category if I
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attended church and chewed gum in thesanctuary. But that was adolescent thinkingand I don't think I relegated that muchspace to thinking it as I did to feeling it--which covered universes and included myclass in cooking.
The first day in cooking class necessitateda seat next to HER which wasaccomplished by letting her choose her seatfirst and sitting down next to HER second.We shared the oven!
She had a dark and immaculate complexionwith small beads of freckles at thecheekbones. Her eyes were infinite brown,the incredible eyes of Indians. She wasScotch-Irish and something else. I don'tremember.
The room, abundant with stoves, was akind of bastard classroom: a great brightroom boasting a million mullioned windows.Each student had a small worktablewhere we kneaded and pounded and madethe stuff for which we were graded. I neverate my own concoctions and no one elseever ate them either. I do not now rememberhow I was graded in that class or how Iever got rid of the results, waste being oneof the sins.
Our teacher, Miss Moss, tall and greying,was at indeterminate middle age, which, toadolescence, because of a lack of congenialityand love for that generation, oftenlooks the same on everyone that age, evenas blacks often look alike to whites andwhites to blacks. Her face was blotched red.The creases that developed at the neck werewhite like an albino tattoo, and the redblotches made her face look sore by contrastto the white tattoo of her neck lines.She had the habit of pressing her five fingertips to that neck when she wanted to get apoint across. And when she let go, therewere five imprinted dots that lingered solong I was never able to get her point,having watched too intently those dotsgradually move into invisibility. Miss Mosslooked like Aunt Ethel, who raised me, andtalked like Uncle Morton, who helped.
Standing tall at the head of the classwith a recipe book splayed open at herstove, Miss Moss instructed the lot of us touse one half teaspoon salt or a half cupsugar or whatever else the recipe "calledfor," to work in union, and not deviate by asprig of parsley. It baffled and frustratedme to come out with a glop unlike anythingelse in that class or anywhere else: anoriginality inevitably achieved without theslightest effort on my part or of anyoneelse. And believe it or not the finest dishesthat came out of that group were HERS!
Once I got to class late, which puteverything off and the whole room had tocome to a standstill while I mixed the stufffor corn bread. I thought if it hadn't beenfor her I'd never have made it. SHE, beingmy oven partner, greased my pan and setthe timer and did little odds and ends forme that had me aquiver while I beat theconcoction that, I knew in advance,wouldn't come off even as HERS did.
One Saturday in late October when thelight was a condensation of red and goldlike mulched leaves pureed, liquefied andturned invisible for breathing, I felt red andgold in the infinite corners, and I bikedeight miles into the country from whereSHE was bussed in to school everyday. I
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stopped at a small grocery store on the oldcounty road to ask directions. A draft ofcold air-conditioned air toted a blendedsmell of wooden mild crates and coloredink from Sunday comics piled onto eachother in the racks and the metallic smell ofstacked cans of tomato sauce and fruitcocktail. A gigantic cardboard femalegreeted me at the door with a cardboardcoke in her cardboard hand.
The storekeeper had a purple face withpuffy eyes flanking a bulbous pocked nosethat moved when he talked--and he talkedat length--delighted to give me directions,as a man is delighted who knows theanswers. His delight could not, even so,exceed my own. At his direction I arrived ata stately large house that stood under a coatof blinding white paint. The green windowframes held windows so dazzlingly brilliantthey appeared about to explode. Three carswere in the drive and I turned around andpumped the eight miles back.
My next attempt to see HER out ofschool I had to go less than half that: to thecounty library. It was in the spring of theyear when the water turns from stiff ice tosoft wet again and the trees tingle withbuds. She told me she would be there andshe was. And though we did mostly whatwe went there for (a pretense at reading),we occasionally caught each other's eye.Hers were as beautiful a pair of eyes as Iwould've guessed all infinity to be in aglance. There was a richness in them, as onein love. Had they been edible, I think I'dhave glutted myself to such a degree I'dhave died of it in less than an hour. But Iwas not so fortunate. I could do nothingabout the pain and I could not die, and itlingered on into the semester.
Just before summer vacation, Miss Mosssaid we were each to come with ingredientsfor a breakfast for two and a boy fromwoodshop. At Miss Moss's announcement,that unmanly class burst into applause.Damn! I was heartsick, first and foremost,because SHE would have to invite a boyand, second, because I would have to. (Inthe rich soil of adolescence, despair andecstasy grow easy.)
I got the boy. He happened to bedrinking at the water fountain ahead of me.He had greasy hair that looked to have beencombed with a fork, and skinned elbows.He didn't seem overanxious at the invitation.Perhaps because I had not anxiouslygiven it. But when food was mentioned, heaccepted ravenously.
Next morning the class convened early,one reason being, I think: boys like to eat,and another being: girls like boys. It all fitin perfectly. Almost. I liked to eat, but Icould not cook.
As a concession to our last day ofschool, Miss Moss let the choice of what tocook be ours individually, and being partnersat the stove we had planned together.SHE and I. She, being the expert fried eggcooker in her family, decided on fryingeggs, and I, being hung up on her, decidedto fry eggs too, which promised positivedisaster. But I couldn't be concerned aboutthat. I was miserable.
I came with four eggs, four slices ofbread, six strips of bacon and a peanutbutter jar filled with coffee. I did not drinkcoffee then but it was during that period inlife when the taboo of things, such ascoffee, had so recently been lifted, theywaxed big in importance.
That morning I felt I had made a seriousmistake in signing up for that class in thefirst place when I saw HER with the boyshe had invited. He had a case of acnewhich did not annoy me so much as thegood looks that came through despite theproblem. Perversely, as a means of revengeor something, I offered him my peanutbutter jar while we waited for Miss Moss totake the roll, immediately upon which weset about making breakfast.
Skinned Elbows spied the light of hislife at another stove and gravitated to it likea sappy moth to flame while HER boycame over to my side (it was that peanutbutter jar) where I peeled the bacon fromthe bacon, which was nerve-racking becauseI had already got the eggs on, and they werebouncing and snapping and it didn't occurto me to turn the heat down under thembecause I was busy with bacon. HER boy,whose name I forget but for the sake ofclarity I'll call him Rupert (a name I hatealthough he was nice enough when I got tothinking about it, which wasn't till I foundout what I found out). Rupert said he couldsplit the strips better thin anyone, andwhen the bacon exchanged hands I noticedthe skin was peeling at the periphery of hisright thumbnail. As a child, I had been toldby Aunt Ethel and Uncle Morton that thiswas a sign of having told a lie. I neverbelieved it but when I saw it on Rupert mythinking took a different turn and, for amoment at least, I was convinced that kidwas an inveterate liar. But. the momentdidn't last because there were other things
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to think about, like buttering the cold toastwhich had popped up minutes before. Whenfinally I got the slices buttered, there werelittle islands of congealed butter left oneach piece of toast which was not sooffensive, I thought, as the black showingthrough around the islands.
Rupert had succeeded in dividing thebacon strips, I knew, because he was tellingme by that time that I ought to get at theeggs and he would see to the toast for me,like scraping the backsides of each. I keptwondering why Rupert was fussing over meso much when SHE had been the one whohad invited him to the breakfast. Had Ibeen in his place, I'd have popped mybuttons with joy. But he chose to ignorethe honor by nosing around my part of thestove as I prepared for Skinned Elbows whowas, as I said, off somewhere nosing at oneof the other stoves at the back of the room.Rupert said as a way to put me at ease, Ithink, he wouldn't mind how the breakfastcame out. Food was food and "It all goes tothe same place on earth anyway." I did notmuch care for this philosophy and I triedparticularly not to burn the bacon. Turningthe eggs over, each yolk collapsed, slidingdown along the pan like molten lava. I got afork and worked yellow and white (bothnow more than half cooked) together. Itlooked like something my dog had eatenand brought up. And as I looked at it thebacon burned.
When I saw the breakfast SHE hadmade, I couldn't believe it. Hers came outjust as mine! She had ruined her breakfast!Oh she must have been upset, his mooningover me instead of her. How could that boymake her do that? How could an. boy? Iwas heartsick. Could I have been so wrongabout that special magnetism between us?
That summer when her father received agovernment appointment, SHE moved withher parents to Washington, D.C. And threeyears later my aunt, who kept track ofeveryone in town, including those who hadbeen gone for years referred to HER as that"awful creature."
"Awful?" I said.
"Lives with another woman who's likethat too."
I was eighteen and I knew when myAunt Ethel circumvented euphemisms whattopic she was on.
"Oh, good lord, no," I said, and I musthave sounded sick when I said it becauseAunt Ethel took my hand gently and said:
"Never you mind. This town is rid ofthe likes of HER."
Too late. I knew those damned eggs ofHERS were ruined not over being upsetthat Rupert might've felt anything for mebut over what I might've felt for Rupert. Ihad not been wrong about the magnetism.
"Oh, lord, no," I repeated, and AuntEthel patted my hand.
Readers Respond
Dear Gene Damon:
Dear Gene Damon:
I realize that any suggestion that a songis particularly relevant to Lesbian love isheavily biased by the wishful thinking ofthe Lesbian listener. But having admittedthat, I nevertheless suggest that you considerLaura Nyro as a possibly relevantartist. I am thinking in particular of twosongs on her album ELI AND THE THIRTEENTHCONFESSION, both written byand sung by Miss Nyro. The songs are"Timer" and "Emmie". The back of thealbum jacket for ELI AND THE THIRTEENTHCONFESSION is a rather beautifulsilhouette photograph of Miss Nyrokissing an unidentified young woman onthe forehead.
K.A., Los Angeles
Dear Ms. Damon:
I have wondered when you or one ofTHE LADDER'S writers would point outwhy the advertising media are so demeaningto women. Straight women can be forgiventheir ignorance here, but surely not Lesbians.The "creative" side of the advertisingbusiness is under the stewardship of malehomosexuals, than which no group hasmore contempt for women. "Cigarettes arelike women..." expresses the gay male'sopinion in a nutshell. The sophisticatedhomosexual enjoys occasionally escorting afemale of the species and what better setshim off than one who is "thin and rich?"What better impresses the straight male whostubbornly refuses to grant full supremacyto the poor, downtrodden gay male who,after all, sports a penis too?
In his enormous self-pity the homosexualhas a great need to look down uponsome group of human beings. He cannotvery well look down upon Blacks, forexample, for many of them are as gay as heis. That leaves only women, people he hasabsolutely no use for, not even for sexual
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relief. How satisfying it is therefore to beable to express his true feelings in a popularart form while making excessive amounts ofmoney. Many homosexuals are truly giftedin the arts; none has any conception ofwhat a woman is like. He sees her incaricature only and often enjoys imitatingher at her most ridiculously "feminine."Playing at feminine frivolities can be funwhen one is equipped with balls and isflirting with another man.
Why do heterosexual males go alongwith this sickening portrayal of women inadvertising? It tickles their male supremacistegos and feeds those inner fantasiesthey dare not allow their women to suspect.How nice to let the gay male do this forthem! Despite the loud cries to the contrary,there i. a secret bond between homosexualand heterosexual males. To be sure,the homosexual ranks lowest in the malehierarchy, behind all other minority males.To him therefore falls this meanest of tasksin the male establishment, the blatant depictionof the male's unconscious and repressedcontempt for the female. And hedoes it gladly for he is all too anxious toingratiate himself with the ruling sex--hi.sex.
Perhaps I am wrong to think thatLesbians should know this. Lesbians areMinded by the fact that gay males are theonly group who do not condemn them fortheir Lesbianism. In their humble gratitudefor this acceptance they fail to see thecontempt in which their homosexual"brothers" hold them by virtue of theirbeing women.
M. de P.
N.M.
The New Lesbian.
Now We Can Be Just Like Everybody Else.
"Even if it were somehow possible toescape all these public and visible affrontsto the sense of delight and surprise, there isstill the common-or-garden bore to contendwith... The jargon-droppers wavingabout words like "viable," "feed-back" and"parameter," or those who grooveexcessively on a Now vocabulary of "rap,""uptight," "right on" and "f---," Rareindeed is the American who does notnumber among his near and dear someonewho a) has just discovered the mysticalvirtue of analysis or Esalen or macrobioticdieting b) cannot refrain from enlistingfriends on behalf of some intimate obsession,whether it be snowmobile racing,Australian wines, wife swapping or Zen."
--from the 7/13/70 (p. 31) "Time Essay"
By Douglas Auchincloss
Growing up in the midwest always leftme a bit starved for a little color, a littledaring, a little originality, a little astonishment,most of which I contrived (being aclever little dyke) to supply for myself.Insipid indeed is the most vivid impression Ihave of back home. That dull people can bedangerous as well as unamusing I discoveredlater.
Back home they listen to Billy Graham alot and I used to watch the people sittingthere taking it all in and he told them abunch of slogans like "Get with Jesus," and"This is a Great Country, (rod's Country,"and "Keep your Nose to the Grindstone,"and "Brush Twice a Day," and "If you haveJesus in your Heart you will find Salvation,"which all the people watching andlistening to Billy (except me) took to meanthe two cars, the little sub-division ranchhouse, the dairy freeze business, the ex-cheerleaderhousewife, the 4 cute kids, andthe early American furniture that theyalready had got. You know, not the kind ofpeople to quibble about moral commitmentsin Southeast Asia.
Now I am not back home anymoreforever. I am rather sitting in New Yorkwhere people listen to the Black Panthersand the Chicago Seven and the. Beatles a lot.And they are taking it all in and the BlackPanthers and the Chicago Seven and theBeatles and Maharishi Yogi and the YoungLords and the Grateful Dead arid the Hell'sAngels tell them a bunch of slogans withheavy head messages like "Having a MeaningfulRelationship with the Cosmos," and"Relating to the. needs of the Black Community,"and "Digging It" and "BeingBeautiful" and "Together" and "DoingYour Thing," and they "Throw Out" alittle encounter rap you see and a little NewLeft-ese and always refer to themselves as"workers" although real workers don'tmuch want to be "liberated" and in factwear hard hats and beat the shit out ofanybody with long hair carrying on aboutMarx and things. It makes you feel kind ofsorry for the peaceful violent overthrow kidtrying to "Reach you. on a Gut-Level." Butthat Guevara style hippie machismo justIsn't making it with the real Brooklyn bulls.By the way and now there, my friends, is
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one gigantic case of acute latency. Everylower east side flower boy has got a pictureof Che Guevara on his wall with which hecan have a non-threatening relationship, andgroove oh his rap and not be uptight. Andin New York everybody enjoins everybodyto "get their beautiful thing together"which means having a chick who bakes herown bread and having Paul MacGregor hairlike everybody has already got if they'rebeautiful anyway.
What happened first you know theblacks figured out all these sort of penissymbol phrases like uptight and hung-upand. these WASP kids have been "into"Freud and want to get "onto" this groovynew thing and they start coming down tothe East Village absolutely screaming"Right On" every time they look at you.And then the next thing you know theIndians at Alcatraz and the Israelis aregetting with it and interjecting a few "RightOn's" into their non-negotiable demands.Then there's Jane Fonda ego-tripping "fromwithin" and Lenny Bernstein getting allpower for the people. And Women's Libstarts having Right On's (I thought theymight have been embarrassed to plagiarizeso heavily from the male chauvinist organizationsbut they rap right on, right on.)And finally as you can see I was aboutready to strangle and spit and behave in amost unbeautiful way and then oh my godthe Gay Liberation Front every other wordRight On. Look, Just look what they havedone to Sappho, subtle, imaginative,Sappho! Too Much, Oh Wow! Too Much!
"Thinking Back Lesbian
If i were to call upon the phoenix
to recover my late ashes
would i have come from the 'mysterious'
island of Greece?
Far flung as time through space
follows relativity must only be a wink
in that lady's eye--
The love of the arts was worth more
to her than the sharpness of Diana's
darts.
But i suppose we are all sisters of
some nature of those reincarnation . . .
But to them we are probably just incantation.
However, Sappho you must have been
a 'Right On' woman."
--Sue Schneider
(from GLF publication "Come Out!"vol. 1, no. 4; p. 11 June/July 1970)
First we had Vanessa Redgrave (whohappily finds breast feeding more fulfillingthan acting) as Isadora Duncan as the"Original Hippie." And Now, Baby, we'vegot a "relevant" Sappho.
Oh Hell, is nothing sacred before thehackney frying embrace of the now generation?
Nowadays in New York we have lotsand lots of Lesbians who belong to the nowgeneration and look just like any otherhippie and who in fact rather seldom sleepwith girls. I went to a DOB meeting theother night and there was this new styleLesbian from GLF who we can call LoisHart who talked quite a lot and here is whatshe said and I quote exactly because Iactually wrote it down, "We've got to findout where everybody's head is at, we've gotto get our thing together and like wowreally be beautiful and relate to each otherand be real in a meaningful way."
I was struck with how deeply, or rather,how superficially her wisdom resemblesBilly Graham's own back home lyric vapidity.At least the emptiness was al. there.
At one time I preferred the company ofother gay women to that tedious cunt-mentalityI had associated with straight women.I once thought we each had gone ourseparate ways and when we met hadreached rather varied conclusions, we eachhad an uncustomary idea, an inspiration ortwo. I had slowly come to think of myselfnot as an "oppressed minority" but amember of an Amazon elite. Now I findLesbians wearily parroting that fundamentalistgroupie catechism--just likeanybody else.
And before you say I am nasty because Ibelong to the over 30 establishment, let meadvise you that I am quite under 25. Oh themindless eclectic of my generation.
-P.B. Valkyrie
(Dedicated to "R.B. of New York" forher letter to the editor in the June/July 70 issue of THE LADDER.
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Papa Cottontail
(King of the Bunnies)
Words and Melody
By Winifred C. Gandy