or, Now That I've Got Your Attention...
by
Suzanne Sunshower
“Sexuality is so fluid,” said someone in our conversation group. She was rippling her hand over
imaginary rolling waves to illustrate her point. She marveled, “Isn’t that great?”
We were four women - three lesbians and myself, a bi - engaged in conversation, partly about a
lesbian flick I had just seen, and partly about what kind of fantasy woman I would like to date. I’d
told the other three women that the film I had seen, “Mango Kiss” directed by Sascha Rice, featured a
gorgeous butch “daddy” character who is in love with a femme “princess” character, and that the
plot revolved around what happens when the two open up their sexual relationship to other lovers. I
mentioned that the supporting characters ran the lesbian gamut from an S&M mama to a housewife
lipstick lesbian who could out-hetero Mrs. Cleaver; also that there were women dressed as men who
appeared feminine and women dressed as men who did not.
The most sexually demanding character, who literally ruled her roost with a whip, was the S&M
mama who strutted around in a tight leather mini-skirt and high-heeled boots. So much for sexual
dominance being a genderized role only for the testicled crowd. For that matter, so much for mini-
skirted lassies being dolled-up soley to get laid by men.
Which brings me back to the part of our conversation about fantasy desires. I told my friends
that if I had my pick, I would date someone like the butch lead of the film because she didn’t look like
what I jokingly refer to as a “regular” (straight) girl, like the femme lead did, but also because she
didn’t look like a man, either. I liked her ‘male’-ish dress (white t-shirt, black leather jacket), her
combed back short hair, and was attracted by her feminine looking face.
One friend commented, “A butch is a butch is a butch...”, rather impatiently. She thought I was just
beating around (argh) the bush.
“No, no,” a second woman in our circle countered, authoritatively. “She [meaning me] wants a
Femme/Butch/Daddy/Top. That’s not the same thing as a Butch/Butch...you know...the kind of
butch you’re talking about.”
“Ohhh,” the third friend chimed in, turning to face me. “You want a woman who looks and acts
butch, but only - not like a man.”
“Well,” I stammered, a little uncomfortable about describing my fantasy female. For one thing, I
wasn’t sure if I was objectifying women (that wouldn’t be pc) by trying to describe this imaginary
one, or even if it was possible to objectify an imaginary woman. And besides, it wasn’t as if such a
ready-made woman could be ordered from the, say, Ye Olde Lesbian Shoppe down the block, even if
I could clearly describe what I “wanted”. If that were possible, there would be no lonely lesbians in
Detroit. I tried to explain, “All I know is that if I want a woman, I want her to be a woman. If I want a
man, I’ll go and get a man.”
That bit of poof seemed to satisfy everyone for a moment. Long enough for me to begin inwardly
questioning what I’d just said and was feeling, myself.
I then heard, “In other words, you want someone who is comfortable with their sexuality. Right?”
Which led us right back into the original sexuality being fluid statement. Even as I had been
describing my fantasy woman, vis-a-vis my description of the movie character, I realized how
surprised I was at my attraction to the butch lead and how put-off I had been by the femme lead
because of her similarity to a “regular” girl. As someone who lesbians always ask, “Are you sure you
know where you are?”, whenever I am at a lesbian bar or event, because they think I look like a
“regular” girl, I was surprised to learn I have a definite lesbian “look” preference for potential
partners. And it wasn’t a preference for someone who looks exactly like me.
For a moment, I wondered if holding such preferences, or playing gender-incited roles like butch and
femme, within same-sex relationships might in some way be indicative of discomfort with a person’s
own sexuality. Could it be I desired a Femme/Butch/Daddy/Top - her swagger and dress - because
deep down I actually desired a man? Heavens!
I came out as bi, and was involved with Gay Liberation, at a time when sexuality was a lot less
fluid-looking. “Fluidity” was practiced at home or at closed house parties, it wasn’t walking around
with a face or outfit on it that made that “fluidity” stand out. Unless you had flowed over the gender
line entirely (sans operation, of course) and planned to stay there, having to, basically, live like a man
- with a woman.
When I came up (in the 70s), gender-incited role play between women was seen, by some in the
lesbian communities I knew, to be an oppressive mirroring of heterosexual gender role play. And,
certainly no one thought heterosexuals knew what they are doing well enough for their relationships
to be the paradigm for all. Too, role play and adherence to dress codes, or preferences, was painfully
reminiscent for some lesbians of ignorant taunts like, “Which one is the guy in bed?”
My attention returned to the conversation at hand, the fleeting, doubting thoughts subsiding. What
I’d said was what I meant - I wanted a woman who was all woman (tomboy swagger or attire aside),
because if I wanted a guy, I’d get a “regular” guy. I realized that the “look” did not obscure the fact
that it would be a woman I was eyeing.
“Yeah,” I said. “Someone who’s sure of her sexuality.”
I figured then that maybe “looks” or “dress” – the lesbian “code” one friend had mentioned earlier in
the evening (that, by the way, she also said I did not properly follow) that supposedly made lesbians
aware of other lesbians - wasn’t what made the sexuality. It only enhanced the titillation.
Whatever you call it (role play with butch and femme) or dress it up (or down), sexuality is whatever
it is. You either want women or you want men (okay, perhaps both), and your partner does not
necessarily have to be served up looking just like you. It doesn’t mean you are confused. Or less
sincere in your desire.
Sometimes even late in the game, or in the company of close friends, we have to reassure ourselves of
the oddest things.
