Growing up, the one thing I never wanted to be was a lesbian. Often, I’d wish to be like my younger brother, a flamboyant gay boy who everybody adored. I couldn’t help but feel, as I was growing up, that gayness wasn’t a bad thing, but lesbianism was.
Gay men were undeniably “fun;” a cool accessory, even. They were the kinds of guys that women would dream of: A quippy brunch partner, an essential shopping companion who would tell you if that top made you look fat. They were lovable, even if their inclusion was reductive and backhanded.
The stereotypes of lesbians have been historically negative, and I was aware of them before I could even decipher what they were: Often labeled as “too moody,” “too serious” and, most offensively, “not fun.” Lesbians were “man-hating,” “combat boot-wearing,” “ugly vegetarians” who would never have children, only a litter of stray cats.
The actual lesbian experience has proved those stereotypes to be extremely wrong. We’re fun. I’m fun. Lesbian culture, celebration and joy have always existed. And in the 1970s and 1980s, lesbian-owned businesses thrived on Valencia Street. Lesbians have always been fun. So why is the mainstream only recognizing that now?
Although lesbians have had an earlier “renaissance,” including one in the late ’70s to mid-’80s, according to queer historian and scholar Amy Sueyoshi, it was different then. Despite more than 200 lesbian bars across the country, lesbian publishing presses, softball leagues, cafes and even the Womyn’s land movement, it was by design, a culture that entirely excluded men — and, therefore, the mainstream. Lesbians were having fun in a bubble, away from the prying eyes of mainstream culture and the commodification that comes with it.
While lesbians remained apart, gay-male culture has been commodified into the stereotypes of the non-threatening, femme brunch partners and shopping companions.
“Lesbians, even if they weren’t ‘fun’ in some ways politically, they would not allow themselves to be commodified in the same way,” Sueyoshi said.
Nowadays, lesbian culture has become integrated with the mainstream. Instead of queer people instinctively ignoring the pronouns in the popular love songs on the radio, straight people are now doing the same thing to “Red Wine Supernova.”
“With the popularity around the queer “Ultimatum,” it’s something anthropological, it’s like going to the zoo [for straight people],” said Sueyoshi.
Although there are only 37 femme-centered bars in the United States now, more than a dozen were opened in just the last decade.
Lesbian culture has a strong history of organizing and advocating for marginalized groups in the queer community, but now that culture has visible glitter.
Diane Jones, 73, a lesbian activist and former HIV nurse, moved to San Francisco in 1973 to live, out and proud, with her partner, Roma Guy. “It was my first experience living and seeing people out. It was an extremely exciting time,” says Jones. Lesbians were fun back then too, even if they were busy fighting for a place within the Women’s Movement.
Lesbian nights at select gay bars in the Castro have been a thing since the 1990s-2000s, said Alicia Especialista, a 42-year-old bartender at the lesbian bar Mother. But now, they are flourishing. From Mango to Lesbeux, lesbian nights are packed with generations of lesbians and queer friends singing, dancing and cruising.
Films like “Bottoms” and “Love Lies Bleeding” are not only including, but centering the lesbian experience. Mainstream representation and culture has become much more than a one-off Britney-Madonna kiss, or a two-hour movie that is either entirely porn or deeply depressing. It’s dynamic.
Lesbians have not only found fun, but created it, while also acting as the backbone for so many of the progressive movements the past 60 years. It’s harder to be fun when there are rights at stake, people who need you, and you only make 85 cents to the male dollar — no wonder gay men get the glory. But now, despite it all, the lesbians are getting their due.
What this era signifies is a slow cultural shift towards integration rather than inclusion, becoming a part of a collective culture rather than a divided one. Just like the umbrella term “queerness,” this is the embrace of a community that has been historically overlooked, rather than just a sexuality. And it is, undoubtedly, the most fun I’ve had in my life.