Style Does Not Make or Define a Lesbian

It was a strange turn of events New Years’ Eve. My lady and I got all fancied up and were looking forward to a glamorous night out in celebration of the big 08 and in lieu of the usual comfortable jeans and tee. Although I didn’t realize I would need to defend myself for my outfit and makeup later on in the night. Last time I glanced in the mirror on the way out the door I was a woman who…well looked like a woman. I honestly didn’t realize or think that I would need to “butch” myself up in order to fit in at the same gay bar I frequent weekly.

We started the evening with champagne and hors d’oeuvres at an up-scale bistro downtown. We were very comfortable sitting on the same side of the table even though our waiter joked about us “being same side sitters”. We sat arm in arm toasting each other and laughing and enjoying the glitzy environment and the enchantment of the sparkling twinkly lights of the downtown vista. We had not a care in the world, and didn’t notice if we got strange or disapproving looks. Our waiter certainly didn’t seem to mind that we were lesbians and obviously proud of it. Next stop on our holiday itinerary was our new gay haunt in our own neighborhood called Spin. Now we were once again comfortable smooching away on our bar stools and laughing it up with a half dozen of our friends. We toasted to the sound of midnight and had a nice big group hug to ring in a new year of peace, health and happiness…or so we thought. Next our gang headed over to 5801 our usual comfortable and friendly gay hot spot across the street. We were having a gay old time throwing darts, catching up with old friends and attempting to make new ones until the night took a drastic turn and the unexpected put a damper on the rest of the night.

I was in the Ladies’ room when I heard a knock at the stall door. Knock, knock “Who’s in there”. “I’m in here”. Knock, knock “Are you gay or straight?” “Whaaat I’m Ashley”. I exit and while I’m washing my hands this masculine woman keeps pestering me “are you gay or straight?” I turn around look her straight in the eye and ask “what does it matter?” “Because this is a gay bar bitch!” she responds. “Well yes in fact I am gay as if it’s any of your business.” Then she proceeds to tell me that no in fact I am not gay, because I “don’t look gay” and I “need to stop pretending”. Now I’m confused. So I ask her “what does a lesbian look like?” And she answers “like me!” Finally someone intervenes and announces that she is the bartender at this establishment and she sees me and my girlfriend in here all the time, and I am in fact gay. I thank her for her defense, but politely tell her that it is not needed. I move past the antagonizing pest and go back to trying to have a good time with my friends, but my mood is soiled and I’m disappointed that a fellow member of my own community has questioned my sexuality.

I have seen lesbians all around the world and I can tell you for a fact that we come in all different shapes, sizes, colors and styles. My clothes do not make me a lesbian, my preference for women makes me a lesbian and why should I have to defend myself against anyone…let alone another lesbian!? I decided that this woman must have insecurities of her own or else she wouldn’t waste her time bullying other lesbians. I spend half of my time worrying how those in the straight community perceive my orientation and me and now apparently I have to worry about what my fellow sisters perceive of me as well. Well, I’m tired and done with that. My New Year’s resolution is to be proud of whom I am—not just a lesbian, but a lesbian who likes to wear heels, dresses, make-up and the biggest damn earrings I can find. So either accept me for whom I am like I accept others or move on.