We need the elderdykes, because they have stories to tell and advice to give. Society as a whole seems to write off the elderly and it makes no sense. People are living longer and staying healthier for longer, so why do we suddenly assume someone is irrelevant as soon as their hair is grey? Selfishly, I imagine a youth where I’d have had an elderdyke to confide in. No doubt I’d have ignored most of her advice and made all the same mistakes anyway, but I think it might have made the world feel a little safer. It’s good to know survivors of the same kind of crap you’re going through.

Sadly, I moved away from KZN, so never managed to connect properly with the active and interesting group of elderdykes there – I almost said ‘retired lesbians’ then thought no, they didn’t give lesbianism up, now did they? A shout out to Out on Sunday – you guys rock! Another shout out to the Lesbian Elders Village in New Zealand, who dream in lego. (They also willing to share their knowledge and experience with anyone who’s interested in starting a similar community.)

Since then, I’ve moved a lot and my contact with elderdykes has improved; but I’m still looking for that mentor. Of course, I’m assuming someone would want the role and that’s not necessarily the case. I can be rather trying, apparently.

Some countries, notably the USA, the UK, Australia and New Zealand, have resources aimed at the senior gay population. As far as I know, we have none, but I’d be delighted to be proved wrong. Old age isn’t a purely gay issue, even if you’re gay, but it’s a universal issue and as a community, how are we addressing it?

If anybody needs me I’ll be on the trail of the lesbian Voortrekkers.
Comfortably shod over the Drakensberg, anyone?

&

Redefining Foreplay also published on CherryGrrl.com

OK.

Here’s his myspace page so you can go tell him he’s an asshole.

And: 10 ways to maintain a successful lesbian blog.

clicketty click

I gave this a new intro and Cherrygrrl.com featured it front page – am very stoked, lekker to see a Sarf Efrican singer (and gay woman) get American attention … uh ok she’s been there 5yrs and is doing more than fine, but I feel prouder of her being there than I do of my interview …

by me … again … I know, I know … I never shut up.

I wrote it, but it’s published here – please leave feedback there about anything I got wrong or left out?  Thanks!!!

Now I’m too old to be called tomboy or even boi, but I still kind of want to be one.  I still don’t want a penis though.  I don’t want to be a man either – I don’t want a beard or to pee standing up or any of the things that seem to define men.  I have no desire to transition, just the need to define my gender any way I want to.  So I wear men’s clothes and my hair is short and people call me sir and I like it.  I don’t attempt to pass as male; this is just me and the way I look.

I’m not sure whether at this stage I should clarify things by saying that I have nothing against transgendered people or that I’m lucky enough to count a few of them as my closest friends, because that would sound banal … but too late, I’ve done so already and it happens to be true.

So here I am – cis-gendered female, very fond of my vagina and I use feminine pronouns.  I shave/trim various bits of my body hair when I feel like it and don’t bother when I’m lazy.  I buy my clothes and shoes in the men’s department, where I can just grab the size and style I want without having to face myself in cruel changing-room mirrors.  I wear men’s boxer shorts with my bras.  I’m not overly fond of sport and I can’t fix cars.  I’m an OK cook and I can catch snakes.  I’m scared of frogs and deadlines, I have a high pain threshold, I love chocolate and hate handbags.

Gender matters to me to the extent that I am a feminist, so I want equal rights, and I am a lesbian, so my prey … er … interest is women.  Beyond that, I really don’t care.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be walking like a man.

Through the glass dyke-ly I see a world that’s far too diverse to bother with closets, but we do.  Everyone has secrets.  When Michael Stipe came out he said he was fed up being made to feel guilty, when he wasn’t ashamed of being gay, he just wanted to keep his private life private.  Michael has a point, but it just doesn’t work while lesbians are still being raped to cure them etc (insert list of homophobic crimes here).

Still, responsibility can be a weighty matter and one doesn’t always want to stand up and be counted.  Sometimes one would far rather keep the head down and the curtains drawn.

I’m out and I rarely encounter problems as a result (but then, I’m one of those amazingly marvellous people who everyone loves – old ladies are constantly grabbing my chin and cooing, small children follow me; that kind of thing).  Someone threatened to beat me up on a Greenpoint sidewalk once, but I was pissed and laughed and he evaporated.

I was a lot more fiery about it all in my youth, to the extent where even my nearest and queerest became rapidly fed up with it.  It’s comfortable to join a tribe – march with it, dance with it and shag its ears off, but sooner or later (hopefully) the tribe bursts out of the ghetto and is not only defined by its sexuality.

I’m considering customising one of those ‘nobody knows I’m a lesbian’ t-shirts to read ‘nobody cares I’m a lesbian.’  Now that’d be cool.

Anyway, a month or two back, a magazine declared that “lesbians are the new black” referring, of course, to the fashion adage and ironically creating another minority pun.  I wonder if any black people complained.  The point is, as a dyke, I don’t feel particularly victimised; I feel like an MTV star (overexposed and inane?).

Alright then, everyone knows I’m a lesbian (gasp) and it doesn’t seem to matter to many of them.  The ones that felt uncomfortable eventually drifted off or were amputated.  There are some family members who never mention the fact, but that’s fine too – I’d really rather not know about their sex lives either.  I recently came out as a country music fan and let me tell you, I get a whole lot more flak for that.  There aren’t even any support groups.

I don’t even give a toss about the demise of lesbian magazines, quite frankly my dears – I just want to see more lesbians in the mainstream press.  Let’s subvert the mainstream, ghettoes should only ever be waystations on the way to freedom.

I’m outa here … now where did I leave my lesbian sunglasses …