Sinister Wisdom 55
Spring/Summer 1995
Publisher: Sinister Wisdom, Inc.

Editorial Group for #55: Caryatis Cardea, Jamie Lee Evans, Sauda Burch
Production Manager: Elana Dykewomon
Contributing editor: Gloria Anzaldua
Volunteer Coordinator: Susan Levinkind
Fulfillment: Dolphin Waletzky
Proofreaders: Felicia Ramos, Jessica Bucciarelli, Susan Goldberg,
Su san Levinkind
Office help, correspondence and accounting: Carol Ann Baker, Laura
Munter-Orabona, Nina Wouk, Susan Levinkind
Thanks to Bobby Rothschild and Rebecca Kutlin of Tamed Technology
Mailing and moving crews: Akiba Onada-Sikwoia, Angela Koenig,
Carol Ann Baker, Carya tis Cardea, Celia Rodriguez, Cindy Mortlock,
Dolphin Waletzky, Hadas Weiss, Jacqueline Letalien, Joan Margaret,
Kyos Featherdancing, Laura Munter-Orabona, Laura Stern, Leslie Levy,
Mady Shumofsky, Mara Math, Michele Nichols, Samara, Sotiria
Theoharis, Susan Goldberg, Susan Levinkind, Terri Fashing, Toni
Langfield
Reader for the tape edition: Jud y Freespirit
Cover art: Sudie Rakusin

SINISTER WISDOM, founded 1976
Former editors and publishers: Harriet Ellenberger (aka Desmoines)
and Catherine Nicholson (1976-81)
Michelle Cliff and Adrienne Rich (1981 -83)
Michaele Uccella (1983-84)
Melanie Kaye/Kantrowitz (1983-87)
Caryatis Cardea (1991-94)
Elana Dykewornon (1987-94)
Copyright © 1995 Sinister Wisdom, Inc. All rights rese.rved to individual artists and authors.
ISSN : 0196-1853. Printed in the U.S. on recycled paper.

Sinister Wisdom, Inc. • PO Box 3252 • Berkeley CA 94703 • USA

Spring/Summer 1995

1__________________________________ Contents
Caryatis Cardea • Notes for a Magazine
Saud a Burch and Jamie Lee Evans • Notes for a Magazine
Upcoming Issues
Xochipala Maes Valdez • Offerings
Amy Edgington • What the Housemouse Knows
Deborah A. Elliston • Morning
Lanie Maeda • On Reading Against Pornography:
The Evidence of Harm
21 Ekua Rashidah Omosupe • My Name Is A Song
22 Lyn Davis • The Care and Feeding of Birds: A

3
4
6
7
12
13
14

Retrospect ive
24 Elissa G. Perry • And Then I Knew
28 Ali Liebegott • I Never Promised You An Opium
Den IX and XI
30 Judith K. Witherow • Label With Caution
34 Annette DuBois • Proof (Deborah) and New Paths

to Writer's Block
37 R. Amy Elman • Lesbian (In)Visibility: A Critiqueof Gay Historiography
44 Gloria Yamato • Trust
45 Marg-Adele Norrington • The Waiting Room
49 Kleya Forte-Escamilla • Coyotes

Sinister Wisdom is a multicultural, multi-class, born-womon lesbian
space. We seek to open, consider and advance the exploration ofcommunity issues. Sinister Wisdom recognizes the power of language
to reflect our diverse experiences and to enhance our ability todevelop critical judgment, as lesbians evaluating our communities
and our world .

2sinister wisdom #55

51
59
60
61
62

74
75

77
79

83
84

85
94
98
103

Caryatis Cardea • A Question of Family
Erika Feigenbaum • untrue
Lisa Manning • I don't need you to agree with me
Gloria Yamato • Quilombo
Sauda Burch • Fragments
Jessica Stein • Chord
Joan Annsfire • At Work
Janell Moon • The Deal
Wyrda. In the Outhouse: A Maternal Odyssey
Helen Porter • two untitled poems
Helen Porter • The Bewilderbeast
Caryatis Cardea • falling trees
Contributors' Notes
Books Received
Ads and Announcements§ARTcover Sudie Rakusin
5 Roxann Burger • untitled
26 Leslie F. Levy· Sinister Wisdom Mailing Party 1993
36 Leslie F. Levy • Elana Dykewomon
43 Peni Hall. Systemic Overload
50 Sue Lenaerts • Judith K. Witherow
58 Billie Miracle • untitled78 Aspen. Room to Expand
82 Roxann Burger • untitledSpring/Summer 1995

3

- - - - - -_ _ _ _ _ Notes for a Magazine
Caryatis Cardea:
Well, I'm back, just long enough to help with the transition. Elana has edited her final Sinister Wisdom and the new
editors, Akiba Onada-Sikwoia and Kyos Featherdancing,
begin with the next issue.
When Elana Dykewomon became editor of Sinister Wisdom, her first theme issue was "Wisdom." I wrote something
then, which I never submitted, about wisdom being thatenhanced state of mind which comes about only when we areable to decrease, at least a bit, the "noise" in our lives.
By "noise," I meant the thousand .distractions of jobs,
family, relationships, addictions, drama, bills, errands andchores that leave so little of ourselves to go about the business of actual life. You know, life, that thing we're all here for,to learn and grow, add to the world's peace and not inordinately subtract from its riches. We especially need relief frompatriarchal noise, the grinding and total reality of our oppressions, which keeps lesbians from knowing the things wemust come to know: our need for each other, our right to eachother in community. Community, Marilyn Frye says, is what
happens in the spaces we create.
Producing a lesbian journal has been the process of creating a literary space, where each dyke - artist, writer andreader - can escape the noise, reconnect to her own sacredsilence and most ruthlessly honest voice, and reflect on what
it means to be a lesbian at the close of the 20th century.
To the new editor, Akiba Onada-Sikwoia, and the circle
that will grow around her, I wish all the fun and challenge of
new skills and enrichi~g friendships, a road that ascends, but
not too steeply, that keeps reaching out to new horizons oflesbian art and politics. Most of all, I offer the admiration I
feel for us all when we pick up new responsibilities. And I
thank her, personally, for taking up this particular obligation, so tha t those of us who have nurtured S W in the pas t can

4sinister wisdom #55

now watch it go on beyond us, growing, changing, transformed by its own age and its new caretaker.
And, I thank Elana for guiding SW through nearly half its
lifetime, and for asking me to be part of what became, forseveral years, my primary political and artistic commitment.
What we learned from each other in the process continues tobe immeasurable. I think we're each in bolding pattern now,
waiting to see what will fill the space S W has taken in ourlives, not to mention our apartments. I hope that whatevercomes next will be at least as satisfying, and perhaps notquite so demanding, as it has been to work on Sinister Wisdom.

Sauda Burch and Jamie Lee Evans:

Sinister Wisdom 55 is the final issue produced under thecurrent publisher and editorial group. Both Jamie and I havebeen involved with the journal for a few years. I began working with SW over four years ago, when I helped with SW's
fifteen year retrospective issue. Four years later, the journal
is nearing its twentieth birthday. That makes SWthe longest
lived lesbian journal in the United States, possibly the world.
I leave the journal after being part of many editorialgroups, co-editor for "Ethics ... NOT!, SW #50 with Caryatis
and one of several guest editors, including Jamie, for "Tellin'
It Like It 'Tis," SW # 47. I have gained a great deal of editing
and production experience and have, for lack of a better phrase,'cut my teeth' on the journal. My volunteer work with SWhas
helped me move 'lesbianly forward' with my own creativeand non-fiction writing and honed my critical thinking about
lesbian issues . I would not be exaggerating to say that every
editorial group I have been a part of has spent a good amountof time discussing (a very mild word) the politics behind eachissue that we have published. That is as it should be.
It is no small feat that a lesbian journal has survived thislong. Our longevity is partially attributable to the journal

Spring/Summer 1995 5changing responsibility from lesbian to lesbian. SW has been
based in many regions of the country; just when it seemed an
SW publisher needed to move on, another lesbian or group of
lesbians assumed responsibility. I am confident this lesbian
tradition will continue and that you and/ or the next generation of lesbians will be reading SW into the 21st century.
As Jamie, Caryatis and I put together this issue, we lamented about the decreasing number of submissions to thejournal. Three years ago, I recall that the editorial groupwould consider over one hundred submissions for each issue. For this open issue, there were less than forty submissions that made it to review. We encourage those of you whowrite to keep writing and to send your work to SW and toother lesbian publications. This is one way you can help
make sure that SW is still around in twenty years.
Thank you for your continued readership, subscriptions,
donations and support of Sinister Wisdom . I look forward to
the continued growth and spirit of SW with its new publishers, Akiba Onada-Sikwoia.

Roxann Burger

6sinister wisdom #55

Upcoming Issues _____________#56 Language - Akiba Onada-Sikwoia's first issue as editor
will be out in August - don't miss it!
#57 Healing - More than ever before w~ hear the word "heal"
being passed around. Some of us have stepped outside ofWestern medicine and formal psychology to our own paths as
non-traditional "healers." Our communities are saturated withbooks, brochures and workshops that speak of alternative
methods of "healing" - from acupuncture to past life regressions . We all know at least one womon who, in time of crisis,
has given preference to a psychic, channel, homeopath, or"medicine person," etc. in an effort to cure herself or be cured.
By now most of us are either graduates of or participan ts in a
12- step program, asupport group and/ or some form of therapy.
We're owning our "spirituality" and re-claiming our bodies.
But as much as we continue to seek the answers to our questions and find new ways to understand the concept of healing,
dis-ease continues to ravage and escalate in our communities.
What does "healing" mean to you? If you have a life threatening dis-ease or a disability does healing mean you cure it?
How do we take care of ourselves when our "well-being"
breaks down? Is there a spiritual component to this? How are
we healing emotional dis-ease, compulsive behavior, socialand societal dis-eases such as substance abuse, battering, rape,incest, eating disorders, poverty, racism and hetero-sexism?
We are looking for personal testimonies . How has your "healing" affected your life - not only physically but psychicallyand spiritually? What have you replaced your dis-ease with?
How have you transformed rage and pain? What does "medicine" mean to you? Perhaps you have been touched by someone else's process of "healing." Deadline: June 1, 1995.
#58 Open - this is a great time to send in any work in any
style! Deadline: October 1, 1995.

Spring/Summer 1995

7

Xochipala Maes Valdez

Offerings
para Teeolotl

Something touches me, beckons. The hairs on the back of my neckrise to the pull in the smoke filled blackness as a heartbeat drums andofferings in an ancient tongue are sung. I focus 011 my butt, legs,
hands, contacting the floor. Nausea fills my chest and throat as I
allow myself to follow the coaxing. I spin around the room, too fast,
like a 33 RPM record playing at 78, words and syllables of mutteredprayers indecipherable. The smell of burning sage, a steady poundingof the drum remind me I am still in the ceremony: I hear the gourds
shake and the deer skin covered rattle touches -my hands, my shoulders, my head. Medicine that calls me back into my body.
Several days later the singer calls to tell me I was touched by theGreat Owl. He instructs me how to appropriately offer thanks for thisblessing.
In the same week, the owl comes to Eva, this brown woman I
crave, in her dreams, taking her delicate hand into its flesh tearing
beak. The owl pulls her, despite her fear and resistance .
I am malnourished, dying from the slow constant poisoning. I have been force fed manufactured lies, conceived of in
the heads of men with wooden hearts and faces of monkeys.
I have chewed on empty rituals-rising behind the sun todrive myself to soul-less work, filling time with m.ore projects,
more politics, more acquaintances, a ttempting to quiet mypangs. Rituals that thin out my blood. The heart beat de mialma pounds against my consciousness, rages in mis suenos forthe nourishment I have been denied: Las lengua s, los cuentos,
las ceremonias de mi gente, de mis antepasados.
She glided into my heart on the crest of my hunger.
The beginning, our union was for me, a homecoming.
Coming home to La Mujer, La Chicana, La India . I soared like a

8 sinister wisdom #55

captive condor reclaiming flight and became intoxicated likea starved humingbird sucking sweet nectar. I tasted in Eva
the depths of my blood, wetting my thirst with our sharedtongue. My tongue glazed her earth brown body, unfolded
butterfly winged lips never before loved by a woman. Her
tongue searched out my dark sweetness, danced throughcolored doors of magic and mystery no white woman wasever allowed to approach. En sus ojos negros intact pyramids
emerged through crumbling colonies, reflecting the dream I
would one day remember.
We invited Tecolotl, the owl, to join our dance and decorated our relationship with cards, trinkets and jewelry of
nocturnal winged images, a symbol of a partnership called
into being by the sacred. Tecolotl slept in our bed at the dark
moon. She gifted us with wings from three great birds withstopped heartbeats waiting on the sides of country freeways.
Each time we came upon a roadside gift we thanked the bird
and removed ~ts wings. We scratched away at the hard dirtwith whatever tool we found, a rock, a stick, broken glass andburied the body in the compacted, off road soil.
As I spiralled further into my buried home I flew into
places where my enemy waited for me. Waited with bared
fangs, for my flesh. I had been convinced as a child that thedoors to life could only be opened by white approval, by
becoming white. When those lies began to shatter and I no
longer sat in submission on a death road, the enemy transformed its face, using the voices of mi gente and sank its fangsof twisted lies deeper, scraping against my bone.
"So you call yourself Chicana. Where's your lengua Whitewash?
Ttl familia sold out. Sorry, but you can't be granted membership in
this Culture Club."The symphony of voices crescendoed a thousand foldwhen Eva, my brown lover, examined with a disapproving
eye the whiteness in my life. Bit by bit, I became a person
without a past, hiding from her my memories of white friends,
white lovers, and "white" experiences. When I attempted toretrieve and reiterate Spanish, our last language muted, frag-Spring/Summer 1995 9

ments of my mother's heart sliced the membrane of my throat
and I managed only to spit up sour blood. A heart broken
from beatings by those of her own blood for not knowing alanguage she was never allowed to speak. Caught between
imposed cages of "too dark" and "too white," I gnawed at myflesh like a wolf struggling to free her shattered limb fromthe hunter's trap. As I released myself, I turned to face theenemy in yet another disguise.

"After all you're only a woman. She wants the real prize. EI
Hombre, The Man."The clamor pounded steadily behind my eyes, flattenedout my consciousness until I saw only what I was not. I
caught her glances, her veiled flirtations with men. My heart
recorded her slightest change in posture, intonation, andfocus in their presence. I endured, repea.tedly, public scenesof private humiliation where she and he looked more likepartners than she and I. I watched quietly his hands/arms
constantly against/ around her, knowing he would not dareand she would not allow if I, her lover, were a man. I swallowed whole a raging tantrum when she chose to comfort
him, for the nth time, over a lost love and sacrifice our plansto celebrate my birthday. I punished her instead with asuffocating silence.
When I crawled out of my dead skin, I looked down andsaw myself-a woman who sought women with faces turned,
seducing them with the healing that only una mujer puede dara la otra, woman to woman. I saw myself-a child desperately
waiting for Eva, this woman facing me, to heal my wounds by
not turning away at the snap of a man's fingers.
The desire to escape the enemy's grip rose in me likeseething lava pushing out against frozen stone. I envisioned
us huddled on an isolated mountain where our love might
prevail, insulated from the daily onslaught of hatred . But
there was nowhere to hide. The place of the enemies was nota place at all. I had unknowingly chewed up and digested
their masks of fear and destruction; the poison seeped into
every cell in my body. The only way to free myself was to10 sinister wisdom #55

bleed out all the pain, drop by drop, to offer my excavatedbeating heart to the sun and invite the healing fire.
We did not know the messenger owl had summoned us toconfront the Rulers of Destruction whose faces were illuminated in our reflections of one another. When we returned
home from one trip with owl wings, we covered the decaying
flesh where the wings once joined the 'bod y with salt in our
attempt to preserve them. Days later we gathered the wings,
an abalone shell, sage and cedar to clean and dress the wings
and perform a ritual of gratitude. We fought before the sage
could release its purifying smoke. We withdrew to lick ourwounds. We hung the wings in the closet promising to tend
to them at another time. That time never arrived . We continued to use the symbol of the owl as a tenuous glue to bind our
weakening relationship while wings hung un cared for in thewindowless closet.
As we journeyed further through the landscapes of ourinternalized destroyers and saboteurs, it became harder toretreat to the pasture of tenderness where we first encountered each others' spirits, where love abundantly fed our
grazing hearts. We found ourselves more often in the 'c rossroads of suspicion, circling, each waiting for the other to givereason to attack or flee . We were poised for protection, with
tails raised ready to spray self-hatred at one another in thename of self-preservation.
When we could name the enemy, we saw each other. But
constant battles, like sandpaper rubbing against soft saplingwood, eroded away our joy, and stripped us finally of eventhe hunger 'to rise out of the sawdust to find one another.

Tecolotl comes in the dream time calling for her wings. "Returnthem," she cries, from the underworld, "There is no spirit left inthem." I lay the battered wings gently on a bed of cornmeal andtobacco , I pull the edges of the black cloth over feathered arms as grief
folds in on me. Sorrow for my misuse of the owls' spirit floods myconsciousness opening gates of five centuries of grief. I weep for thedisregard de las animas de todas las casas en nuestra tierra . I lower
the bundle into the small grave and sprinkle it with handfuls of sage,

Sp ring/Summer 1995

11

cedar and copal. I dig into the mound of piled earth removed from thisnew opening into the belly of la madre. As I pray for a reuniting ofwings with spirit, I cover the prepared·wings with the dirt . I swim in
the cleansing pool, el cenote, that waits at the bottom of my grief, andam exuberant as my soul pulsates with the remembering that only
those things in right relationship can thrive.
I am grinding up my false self, the colonizer's fabrication. The self
I grew accustomed to, calling it my own. I grind the protective shell
like Xmucane grinds the yellow and white corn nine times to create
the proper substance for human flesh. I grind the foundation like theLords ofXibalba grind the bones of the twins, Hunapu and Xbalanque,according to the twins' own instructions after they gave themselvesto the fire . The Lords of Death feed the meal of bone to the river fromwhich the twins re-emerge, more magical and more powerful toembark on their final voyage to defeat the Lords of Xibalba .
I offer myself to the fire of my rage, of my'passion, the fire of theoriginal thinker. I call out to the wind, to Ehecatl for partnerships,
friendships, unions with parts of myself, where we become the twins
who are not tricked by the Lords of Death. Instead, we become themagicians in their presence.
"Such was the defeat of the rulers of Xibalba. The [twins]accomplished it only through wonders, only through selftransformation."** From Popul Yuh, The Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life, transla ted by Dennis
Tedlock, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1985, p.155 .

12 sinister wisdom #55

Amy Edgington

What the Housemouse Knows
Backsides, insides and undersides of things .
Secret whiskered passages.
The metallic taste of giant fears.
This is no place for cowards:
there are avalanches of pots and brooms and shoes.
In the walls, wires coil, ready to defend themselves;
nails point the way to heaven.
The dirt and smells and messes of the gods
are all the kindness a mouse expects.
Tradition demands that women scream,
stand on chairs and guard our private parts;that we set traps, lay poison and flush
tiny, ruptured bodies down the toilet.
We cannot bear to be reminded
how we too have eaten crumbs
and have papered our nests with stolen scraps;
how we have cringed from blows or blessed
the lack of them and even called this "love."
We do not dare admit out own internal injuries,
our precarious survival, in a house
where the most we hope foris to not get caught
by those who lord it over us.

Spring/ Summer 1995

13

Deborah A. Elliston

Morning(for Linda)

As she sleeps
her bod y compacts
like a rose folding inward
by morning she is a small bud
I imagine her billions of cells
every nucleus pullingits protons and neutrons cl,?serthe space between suddenly too vastin the heady night air
Along her side
sinewy muscles clutch bone
a tight slow curve from shoulder to ass
warm against my belly and thighs
Stirring beside me she presses closer
as I wrap my arm around her waist
and kiss the fragile neck I love
good morning14 sinister wisdom #55

Lanie Maeda

On Reading Against Pornography:
The Evidence of Harrrl: 1
Introduction

0To
say that it's unpopular to write against pornography in
the '90s is a gross understatement. I know the risk I'm taking
putting my words and experience out into the world in thisway, and it's scary. But I know there are other lesbians like me
who remain silent on this issue for fear of being ostracizedand overly criticized for taking an unpopular view on the useof sexual exploitation for the purposes of getting off.
When Diana Russell's Against Pornography: The Evidence ofHarm came out, it gave me another opportunity to speak out
in my lesbian community about this issue . After reading andviewing the book, I felt compelled to speak, and the risk
became less important than the sound of my voice on paper,
the expression of my fury.
Background

I am a twenty-eight year old lesbian activist living in the
San Francisco Bay Area during the age of glam and gloss; I am
surrounded by contradictions and questions of what is community and where my place is in it. I often wonder if I would've
been better off born ten or twenty years earlier as my opinions often seem a decade or two off.
Unlike the majority of visible 2 anti-pornography activists, I am a woman of color from the housing projects and an
out lesbian. I come from a violent family of alcoholics and1 Though I do use some general descriptions or examples, I have deliberately tried not to duplicate pornography here. Special thanks to feminists
who have spent time discussing the topic with me, including: Michelle,
Kit, Beauty, Caryatis and Lisa .This piece is dedicated to the many womenof color organizing around the issue of sexual exploita tion of women.
2 By visible I am talking about the most well known writers, speakers andout activists who are primarily white, middle class and hush about theirsexual orientation.

Spring/Summer 1995 15

addicts, whose cycle I do not continue in my own life. Most
importantly, I am a survivor of child pornography. There are
pornographic photographs of me in the hands of men and intheir pedophile fantasies.
Between the ages of five and six, I was sexually abused byseveral white men and it was filmed. I was physically assaulted and it was photographed. White men have mademoney off this Asian child's body. My rage against the making and distributing of pornography is deeply connected to
my adult survival. I refuse to see adult (or child) pornography
as a free speech issue because I know what it feels like to havewhite men taking pictures of the gag on my child mouth. The
speech of women and children in pornography is what should
be at issue, but the capitalist pornographer is the one whoalways seems to win out. 3
Antifeminist backlash, homophobia and sexism roar rampant in the male dominated straight wqrld. But some core
themes I see in lesbian communities today come from thesame seeds as the straight communities. Sadomasochism,
and anything-goes-if-you-have-an-orgasm fill the tops ofagendas at conferences and events, and the front pages of'zines and lesbian publications. With few exceptions, if I
want to read work by and about lesbians, view a '90s lesbian
film, attend a pride march, or even go to a fund raising event
I am likely to witness piercings, fisting, women whipping
each other, chains, bondage, etc. If I am critical of these practices, I am relegated to the "geeky, unsexual, unliberated '70s
generation" or worse yet, subject to intimidation or violenceby another lesbian or woman, usually white, if I speak out. It
seems that to be a true Generation X'er, I must see fun aspriority, "hot" sex as crucial, photographs of it as normal, andthe pushing of my own emotional and political boundaries asnecessary to continue my growth as a healthy and sexual
lesbian. I am excluded and silenced for my disagreementwith the supremacy of sexual issues in the '90s.

3These ideas are certainly not solely my own, and I know tha t I am not thefirst woman to talk about th is issue. See Audre Lorde, Gloria Anzaldua,
Diana Russell, Andrea Dworkin and Catharine MacKinn on for more on
this idea.

16 sinister wisdom #55

About the Book

Diana Russell's Against Pornography: The Evidence of Harm
(Russell Publications, Berkeley, CA, 1993), begins with a warning: "Some of the visuals in this book may cause distress."
Indeed while reading The Evidence of Harm ; I was disturbed,
angered and confused. From the distorted fetus-like image
on the front cover to the last pornogr3.phic image of a man
sexually assaulting a woman, I had concerns for what Russell
was trying to achieve. What she does in Against Pornography isshow actual pornography and connect it to sexual violenceagainst women.
In Against Pornography, Diana Russell shows us that Playboy and Penthouse, the "soft" pornographic magazines that canbe purchased in nearly every store where you can get a Cokeor Pepsi, are not harmless. Many critics of pornography often
ignore these magazines thinking that they are merely imagesof naked women posing in "sexy" or gratuitous positions. But
Russell dispels those falsehoods simply by reproducing thecartoons and images which teach how-to's and why-to's, all
the while normalizing male sexual violence against women.
Against Pornography contains dozens of horrific, racist,
violent and humiliating images of sexualized male violenceagainst women. In addition to the mainstream pornography
it also contains photographs from illegal and undergroundmagazines. While all the images are painful to see, theselatter ones are the most difficult to look at. However, withcommentary near each image, the reader is at once able to see
the photograph or cartoon by itself and then hear the voice ofRussell's feminist analysis directly beside it.
For those of us who have worked in the anti-pornography
movement for a few years, we are likely to have viewed someform of pornography, but have had to research or find it inisolation, in the pornographer's forum and on his terms.
Most times when I've come in contact with pornography it
makes me sick; and my need to cover it, discard or destroy it
is overwhelming. In a different context, as in Against Pornography, I was able to review it critically, then reflect with Diana's
comments on my feminist outrage. Her commentary acted
almost as a safety net.
Still, reading the book and seeing again the exploitation
and brutal humiliation of women upset me deeply. Witness-

Spring/Summer 1995 17

ing violence against women, in particular a violence that is
not silent, not closeted, but dearly pursued as entertainment
and faithfully protected by patriarchs and now some feminists
and lesbians alike, is literally sickening. I'imagine deep circles
forming below my eyes, grief so profound it seems permanently etched on my face. Knowing that liberals have "politicaldebates" over the life of women who are forced into painful,unhealthy, degrading situations is enough to turn my stomach. To contemplate the pornographers/perpetrators in theact of creating these texts is enough to move me to murder.
But instead I ponder, consider and grieve the circumstance while strategizing and organizing on the solution. I
wonder about the implications of a book against pornography filled with pornography. I worry about the repeated harm
to my psyche, just one more dose of it! Did I need to see theseimages or this book to educate me on reality or further ignite
my anger against pornography? And what about the womenwhose photographs are duplicated in this book, what would
they think or feel to see their image once again published for
public consumption?4 What if my image was printed here? I
would not be okay with that; it would enrage me all the same.
The Master's Tools?
When considering Against Pornography, I think back to
Audre Lorde's poignant words, "The master's tools will neverdismantle the master's house." I ask myself, is displaying
pornography with the intent of educating on pornography
still just pornography? Russell begins the preface of the book
explaining why she felt the images and actual evidence of harm
were necessary, "I have come to dislike talking about theeffects of pornography with people who have not seen it forthemselves .. .. " (p. vii) She is optimistic that "this book willconvince many of the people who read it with an open mind,
that pornography promotes sexism and rape and other formsof violence against women." (p.viii) But I have to wonder, as
one feminist lesbian put it, "how far do we have to go to prove
our point?" S
This comes from Caryatis Cardea who asked this important question
during an editorial meeting wi th me on this piece.
S Again, this question came during commentary on this piece by Caryatis.
4

18 sinister wisdom #55

I app,reciate that Russell included in this collection her
research on pornography's causal connection to rape. I haveturned to that work again and again to remind me of theaccessible and solid studies that have been done to demonstrate with empirical evidence that anti-po.rnography activists are not merely acting on hunches. There have been numerous studies that show men to be mQre aggressive towards
women after they have viewed or consumed pornography.
But, having lived in a pornographic culture my entire life,
involuntarily viewing mainstream pornography that is a staple
to the dominant heterosexual culture, and as a survivor of the .
sexual exploitation industry, the research findings were all
the evidence that I needed to have access to or see.
Ultimately I have to ask myself if the replications in Against
Pornography will do more good than harm, and in honor of thewomen survivors in the images published, my answer is no .
Any survivors of the pornography industry or any sexualassault will likely be emotionally triggered 6 by these photographs no matter where they find them. I also strongly feelthat while lesbians and feminists strive hard to create ourown sexuality, free of violence, coercion and inequality, theseimages will be an additional barrier to that freedom. As allanti-pornography activists know, images are powerful; they
send a message. The messages duplicated in Against Pornography are so hateful they are extremely hard to shake.
In particular as a lesbian of color, an Asian lesbian, theracist photographs and cartoons were especially painful toview. Pornography involving women of color almost always
contains racist content. Since the "sexiness" of pornography
is based on the objectification of the subject, the less institutional and individual power the subject has, the easier she
can be made into a object. Pornographers often use women ofcolor in extreme and exceptionally harmful ways. Sexualized
racist mythology is also used to enhance stereotypes anderoticize racism. Examples include women of color as animals or partnered with animals and women of color in par6These triggers could include memory flashbacks, body memories, or any
numerous reactions symptomatic of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder orRape Trauma Syndrome. See Ellen Bass and Laura Davis' The Courage to
Heal for more on this.

Spring/ Summer 1995

19

ticular ethnic clothing and the sexualizing of that culture's
patriarchal torture of women, like footbinding of Asian
women. These replications hit me the hardest, and actually I
won't look back at the book to verify my memory of examples
as it is too disturbing. Again, when I think of what theseimages might do to the psyche of other women of color, I feel
unforgiving about their duplication.
Finally, my concern about the use of this book is that it
will be a convenient excuse for academic men to view pornography. Russell believes the poor quality of the photo reproduction will discourage pornography consumers as wellas the fact that Against Pornography costs more than most
pornography, but I still have doubts. I think consuming pornography can become a quick addiction 7, and that viewing
some could lead the reader to want to view more.
So, What's the Lesbian Con~ection?
Straight pornographic discussion means a lot to lesbians.
A lot. Lesbians are both sex workers and survivors of straight
pornography. For lesbians of color, pornography is yet another way that racism is disseminated, made sexual and justanother place where our perpetrators learn their violent ways.
And who can forget the growing community of lesbians,
mostly white, who are involved in the production, creationand distribution of both straight and gay pornography? Theselesbians need to think seriously about the evidence that pornography hurts and destroys women, primarily by telling
men that it is okay to treat women as their property. Pornography tells men that women's pain and screams are not real,
only smiles, "See, just like in the photograph. " Women andlesbian pimps and pornographers are no less accountable forharm than are the maJe capitalists.

I'm thinking here of mass rapist and murd erer, Ted Bundy's taped television interview a few years ago, where he talked abou t his addiction topornography and how it grew from reading detective magazines, then"soft" pornography, then m ore and more violent pornography. The more
he saw the more he "ne eded" and eventually actual rape, torture andfemicide would only satisfy his impulses.
7

20 sinister wisdom #55

Should we buy the book?

Overall, I hope our anti-pornography movement moves
forward without further duplication of pornography. It's hardenough to see it over and over again on television and at themovies; it's too hard to see it in my feminist magazines 8 andnewspapers.
Given the small numbers of feminists and recent texts
critiquing pornography, I don't think we should ignore thisbook; it is a powerful statement, but it seems as though we're
playing with fire. If you are a lesbian who debates issues
around pornography but thinks that basically "soft porn" isharmless, this book will change your mind. If you are a lesbian who does not believe that pornography can cause men tocommit violence against women, this book has the studies
summarized for you in the introduction, and Diana Russe~l's
full study in the middle section. But you can also get this in
Making Violence Sexy: Feminist Views on Pornography (Teacher'sCollege Press, 1993). If you are a lesbian of color wanting toorganize around these issues, drop me a note at Sinister Wisdom, I want to meet you. If we don't wake up to the dangers
that pornographic exploitation plays in our larger and intimate communities, we continue to let it have power over us,
and we fail to provide even a feeble resistance. The evidenceof harm is clear. It's not an opinion. Done. Said. From anotherfeminist's mouth. From a pornography survivor's mou tho Now
let's get it out of our bookcases, file cabinets and lives and get
on with our work!

8 I am particularly pissed off that a recent On Th e Iss ues did an incredibly
sensationalized cover using a young girl on a swin g next to a neon signthat read "Girls Girls Girls," to introduce the cov er story of a convictedchild molester, whom I should tell you the y granted anonymity to .
ARRRRGH! Whoever the girl child is, I feel th at her rights have beenabsolutely violated and her image exploited, not something I expect frommy feminist magazines!

Spring/ Summer 1995

21

Ekua Rashidah Omosupe

My Name is a SongIn this landof strangers
I call myself
a namethat is difficult
for them to singit struggles
on the tipsof their tongues
They do not know its meanings
I sing my nameof birth Wednesdays blessings
my children know
the chorus
dred woman
black
courageous
lesbianmotherpoet
warriorfriendI am a song
I do not hesitate
to singeven among
strangers and enemies

22 sinister wisdom #55

Lyn Davis

The Care and Feeding of Birds:
A Retrospect~ve

6:00 a.m.
I am captive to the metal pins, nylon lines,
heavy weights that hold my broken leg uprightand confine my fledgling body to thischildren's ward hospital bed.
Metal meal tray taken and lecture on uneaten foodgiven, the nurse begins the daily tortureof bath and bed change. I am left pale, sweating,muscle spasms rolling from shoulder to toe
and back again.
Only you, my dark-haired mother, swooping inat mid-morning, promise drugs to ease spasms,
straws slid into cartons of warm milk,
globby chicken, gelatinous mashed potatoes,
canned carrots, green jello cut into bite sizes.
Under your care, I lose weight
but no longer starve.
Only after dusk brings my father and the hall lights
blink three times do you leave,arm linked through his, measured parental steps
forcing night on my sun-hungry eyes.

1:00 p .m.
Magnificent hawk now withered to a duskyseaside sparrow, you perch on the edgeof your nursing horne bed .

Spring/ Summer 1995

My father and I push aside the paper cup of jellybeans and white cake with yellow plastic chickto spread our offerings on your bedside tray.
You pick at the strawberries, egg salad,take baby sips of the shake, refuse the iced coffee.
You wipe your lips, fold the paper napkin
next to the disposable plate on the plastic tray,
turn brightly to each of us and smile.
Warmth streams from your face but your eyes
are as vacant as the ice cubes glitteringin the untouched coffee.
You tell me to go.
As my measured steps retreat down the hallway,
you chirp language only you
understand. My father's footsteps
echo mine, his tread as heavy as my heart.
10:00 p .m.
Seventy months after you have starved yourself
from life, I have this thought :Women like me
could be better daughters
to mothers like you
if you could dieor just go away
and then come back.
Now, I could give without worrying how
giving would bind me.
Now, I could feed you what you wanted,
tender bird,
and you could fly,rest
in any branch you needed.
Even one of my own.

23

24 sinister wisdom #55

Elissa G. Perry

And Then I Knew
The first time I was attracted to a pail' of breasts I was at thetable with my family for Sunday dinner. I was sitting next toJoann, my nineteen year old brother's thirty year old girlfriend. I was nine.
I checked her out with long side glances - admiring firsther short haircut and brown eyes and working my way down
to her smooth dark brown skin stretched over magnificent
cheekbones. I quickly looked down pretending that my mouth
had been watering because of the dish in front of me, not thedish in the chair to my left. I was only nine, but I knew thatsuch displays were inappropriate at my father's table, especially during grace.
"I'm hungry," Brian said as my brothers attacked theirplates. My father, trying to impress Joann, pulled out one ofhis "I'm a down black man" phrases reserved for occasions
when he was in the presence of young black people, like "I'mhip" or "Yeah man" and proceeded to eat his food.
Meanwhile, I voraciously devoured the sights next to me.
Joann tossed her head back slightly as she teasingly laughedat my father's outdated expression. Her gold tooth flashed at
me from between her pearly whites and wine colored lips. As
her head moved back and forth, her vanilla Afrosheen andHalston perfume tickled my nose.
I breathed deeply and just as I was about to sigh I remembered I was at the dinner table and should be eating, notgrinning at my brother's thirty year old girlfriend. I ate, hitting
my teeth with the fork a couple of times because I was concentrating on not watching Joann in a conspicious manner.
The table was too quiet. We were eating the leftovers fromChristmas dinner. My mother had put chitterlings on myplate. I hated chitterlings. Joann had eaten all of hers.
"Hey! I'll trade you my chitterlings for your greens," ISpring/Summer 1995

25

propositioned.
"Liss!" my mother protested half amused and half embarrassed.
'liS Awright Mrs . Perry," Joann drawled. She gracefully
picked up my plate and, with the urging of her fork, eased hergreens onto my plate and my chitterlings onto hers.
Her blouse gapped as she finished the maneuver and I caught
sight of a gold, icicle-like pendant resting in the space where
her cleavage began. My eyes continued down and I discovered she wasn't wearing a bra. I could see her whole left
breast resting among the folds of her cream colored silk blouse.
I am sure my forkful of greens was suspended midair, dripping.
I imagined lifting her dark chocolate breast in my caramelcolored hand. Looking underneath it, around it, putting it in
my mouth. It would be warm, I thought, and soft, like ababy's skin.
I choked on the cornbread that had become a dry, mealy
mass in my mouth since I was projected into my fantasy midchew. I reached for my water and brought it to my lips, sputtering and shaking, praying I could swallow before I coughed
my cornbread in my brother's face across the table. I swallowed hard and looked at my mother sheepishly. Now her
fork was suspended in midair and I knew she had been
watching me. Her arched eyebrows and wide eyes told methat I had confirmed a suspicion. She was afraid.
Everyone else continued eating. I don' t think they noticed
a thing. But my mother and I had. In that instant I knew what
the red sequined discs with tassels, which sat on my brother's
dresser, were for and why my sleeping bag smelled of marijuana, Afrosheen, sweat and Halston when my brother returned it without washing it.
I saw Joann's breasts and my hands, lips, teeth and tongue
ached to touch them. Yeah, it was then I knew. I sat down todinner that winter night a precocious young girl addicted toCharlie's Angels and Veronica Hamel on Hill Street Bluesand got up a dyke.
Within a month I had my first girlfriend.

26

sinister wisdom #55

Vl

~

S·

'fVl
2..
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3
3

Sinister Wisdom Mailing Party~(Top page, L to R: Mady Shumofsky, Susan Levinkind & Hadas Weiss, Betty Rose Dudley.
Bottom page, L to R: Cath Thompson, Aimee Waldman, Susan Wittcoff, Betty Rose Dudley.

""

Leslie F. Levy

~
.....

\0
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28 sinister wisdom #55

Ali Liebegott

I Never Promised You ~n Opium Den
IX
Sometimes I feel you
like the first time you held me
when I was dozing in the truck,
you held my headagainst your chest
stilling the bumps in the road.
I hear you laughingon the bus to the airport,
making .up lies about my father
owning cilantro fields in Missouri.
I still see the exhaustion in your eyes
when you picked me up at the gas station.
I was drunk and barefoot,leaning against the pay phone exhaustion like hunger
and it can all be slept away
into lesser degrees of pain
until sleep becomes fourteen hours a day
and hunger, some coffee and some cigarettes.
The last month we were bothsinged bodies
exposed burn wounds
trying to comfort each other,and the actual separationleaving you at the door
trying to walk calmly away
and keep from collapsingon the driveway,
not being able to remember
last time I sobbed .

Spring/ Summ er 1995

29

XI

What would it mean
to go out of the house at dusk
cast my shadow on the sidewalk,my abnormally long legs
moving past the shade of the parked bicycle,
where I had set her down for good.
To walk down the stairs
and up the street
away from the drunk mouth,
to burn our past
like buildings and cities
in a riot should be burned,
to dig a hole
and with the tips of my fingers
shape the wet groundinto a bowl
and place the moments
we connected here,
to be kept or lost
forever in the earth.

These are two of twenty-three poems from my chapb ook, I Never Promised
You An Opium Den .

30 sinister wisdom #55

Judith K. Witherow

Label With Caution

I~e often wondered if the spirits had given me a choice of
health problems, if I would have chosen one that was more
noticeable. I have multiple sclerosis, arthritis, lupus, kidneydisease, etc . I am a cancer survivor. During the past year anda half I have undergone six surgeries to correct an electricaldefect in my heart. The diseases I have invite discrimination- not that discrimination needs an invitation - because I
look "good," because my physical disabilities are not visibly
noticeable. Twice I have been questioned by police officers
because I was parked in handicapped areas. Both times they
told me I didn't "look handicapped" sitting in my car. It madeno difference that I had a handicapped permit. The MS Society told me to always carry a card that said I .had MS. My
staggering walk might lead the police to arrest me on a chargeof drunkenness.
I walk with a cane, and I can't count the number of times
men have said, "what's a young girl like you doing with acane?" No one ever told me there was an age limit on disability.
Perhaps it's just another secret code that only the enlightened
know. Or maybe it's a really dumb line that gets overused. I
would rather be asked "do you mind if I asked why you use
a cane?" if people really must know.
Dialogue that isn't condescending or insulting is appreciated. Often people act embarrassed to speak to you if you arein a wheelchair. When I'm in a chair at the emergency room,
hospital personnel often ask my partner Sue, "What's her
problem?" Speak to us! Having a physical disability does notmean that we are not able to speak for ourselves . Allow us theoption of answering. It makes us visible and recognized as
thinking, speaking humans who just carry around a few more
pieces of equipment.

Spring/Summer 1995

31

While the women's movement has made genuine efforts
at accommodating differently-abled women, there are still as
many changes necessary to be made as there are physicalproblems to deal with . Those who are healthy need to understand just how oppressive they can be when making arrangements for us. Disability is like race: if you don't experience it
twenty-four hours a day, you don't understand how it touches
every aspect of your life. Just as the sliding scale doesn't erase
all of the inequities for the poor woman, a sign language
interpreter for the hearing impaired doesn't rectify the correctable barriers that shut out the differently-abled.
The assumption that we are all equally physically capable, unless visible disabilities are noted, is blatantly patronizing. A given number of women will need assistance in
one form or another. The Americans With Disabilities Act has
a long way to go to implement changes and erase a lifetime ofstructural barriers that have limited access and participationin daily life. However, there are numerous ways that inclusion of differently abled women can take place with foresightand planning.
As a differently-abled community organizer, I offer thefollowing suggestions to implement as a matter of routine
policy to make women's/lesbian gatherings more accessible.
When working on any project, allow for the possibility of
input over the phone or in written form . Be aware that awoman might need help completing a job or that she may
have returned it unfinished because of unplanned circumstances. But don't stop calling a differently abled woman to
ask for help or just to see the status of our well being. Don't
devalue our abilities the way much of society does.
If there is a conference, workshop, meeting, potluck dinner, etc., make it known whether there is safe, handicapped,
or close accessible parking. Know that if there isn't handicapped parking, the general spaces are usually too small to
unload a wheelchair and enter it by yourself. Also, in yourwheelchair, you are seated so low that your vision is blocked
and other drivers can't see you. If there is only on-street

32 sinister wisdom #55

parking, you need to know if a ramp or apron is in close
proximity. Is the area well lit? Are there women who will
volunteer to transport someone who is unable to drive?
Is an elevator, steps or ramp at the entrance? Don't assume
one or two steps are accessible. It could mean the difference
between coming by yourself and needing assistance. Often
when I have asked if there were step's, I have been told there
were a few. On arrival, I have found eight or more steps andmy access totally negated . Other times, I wasn't told that therest room was on another floor and there were more steps totry to climb.
Carrying a tray of food and walking with a cane simultaneously should be an Olympic event. It is that difficult when
you have systemic muscle weakness. Could the eating area bearranged for easier accommodation? Will someone be observing to see if extra assistance is needed? The simple act ofeating can be so muscle tiring that you risk choking. Yetanother of the reasons you don't want your energy wasted
trying to gain entrance to an event.
Getting through the door with your cane, wheelchair orwalker doesn't end the worry. Nor is the worry over for the
woman with health problems that don't require the use ofvisible aids. We need to create an environment that is friendly
to all of us. The usual furniture of folding chairs can makeeven short term sitting unbearable. If someone is out of her
seat and walking around more than she is sitting, don't view
this as a distraction. It just might be someone trying to takethe pressure off their joints or muscles by increasing theblood flow in the body. Conference organizers should schedule more frequent rest breaks to insure that women who are
differently abled or older are given the chance to take care of
personal needs.
Disability must be like aging. Your health or body may
have changed but the same spirit resides within. Some days
I feel like a teenager chomping at the bit, and other times I
can't bear the weight of my clothes because the pain is so
great . On these days the same woman inhabits my body;Spring/Summer 1995 33

she's just trying to renew. My older friends tell me they don't
feel their age . In fact, they resent deeply age classification
because they are not taken seriously. They feel like everyone
wants to pat them on the head. This behavior is blatantly
offensive.
I'm typical of many women of Native American descent:many health problems and little or no access to health care.
I'm pleased to say that I am at least eligible for medical
assistance. That's probably not the correct shameful attitude,
but it beats having no insurance at all. It also gives membersof the medical establishment, and others, the idea that you
are less deserving as a person. You don't suppose if I wereable to work, or off S5I which pays $446 .00 monthly, that I
could or would get myself some pricey insurance do you?
Without a doubt, I would certainly opt for an insurance thatwouldn't automatically devalue my worth. As a feminist warrior of battles still being fought, government controlled medicaid remains another label that keeps m e glued in my place.
Labels, stick them on and tear them off, but know there issomeone underneath that you might be hurting. Feminists
are not exempt from the prejudices they have acquired over a
lifetime. I know that I have stayed active because I have thehope that this is a group who will be open to change anddebate - painful though it may be - w henever the status ofanother woman is in question. With the visibility and viability of women of differing races, spirituality, economic classes,
sexuality and physical abilities and app ea rances, w e w ill
insure that all women are more equally rep resented .

34 sinister wisdom #55

Annette DuBois

Proof (Deborah)

She sends me a flower to prove that"it really is spring in Ann
Arbor. It falls from the envelope to lie small and white andfragile on the red and blue tile of the table: white and starshaped, one of those that reaches through the snow frombetween two folded green leaves, asking the world a question.
I love her for her letters.
This one, what there is of it, is written on a paint chip from the
hardware store that names different shades of purple. That,and the flower, and the flyer in the shape of th e sun from aclub in Chicago. Words? Only that she is thinking of me.
Another one: a napkin from the restaurant w e went to together, and a shower of confetti. Or the Muybridge picturesof two women dancing, each frame carefully cut out. When
she lived in Italy she scoured the museum gift s hops for postcards with lesbian pictures; on each one she' d describe one
face, or a tree, a monument, a bottle of red win e. I sent her in
return the Matisse nude she could have posed for, and thenext week copies of all the poems I'd wri tten t ha t year.
We're not lovers; we never have been. She lived next door tome once, and on a long night of my soul she came with a potof tea, a candle and a poem to read . That was the beginning;
the rest follows.

Spring/Summer 1995

35

Annette DuBois

new paths to writer's block(or, my queendom for a laser printer)

You hold my words (and my heart) in your hand.
i swallow and fidget.
across the table i see only words crossed out
the sentence i meant to change(and did, on some other copy)
the fresh coffee stain across the page.
my poem is embarrassed,caught on stage with uncombed hair
wearing yesterday's jeans.
groping for her lines she remembers:
once she lay across crisp white paper like fresh linen sheets
the printer at her command to follow her growing
and show each change in its best light.
she would dress herself
in fonts
chosen 'carefully as matching dishes for guests,
but the guests have come on timeand she is still in her bathrobe
mopping the floor with white-out
and pausing to stir the unfinished soup of words.

36

sinister wisdom #55

Elana Dykewomon at Sinister Wisdom Mailing Party, 1993
Leslie F. Levy

Spring/Summer 1995 37

R. Amy Elman

Lesbian (In)Visibility: A Feminist
Critique of Gay Historiography

The overwhelmingly favorable re~iews and reco rd-breaking
attendance for "Becoming Visible: The Legacy of Stonewall"
suggests that gay men and lesbians have gone from closeted
condemnation to visible exoticization for the mainstream. 1
Image, however, is one consideration, political ac hievement
another. First hosted by The New York Public Library (June 18,
1994 -September 24, 1994), the historical exhibit now tours thecountry. What meaning this "visibility" has for lesbians will be
explored through a reflection on various comp onents of theexhibit. More specifically, this article provides a critical analysis of both the assimilation oflesbian identity w ithin a gay malecontext and the appropriation of the Holocaus t as a metaphor
for heterosexism. Such assimilation and appropriation undermine the political integrity of lesbianism, visibl e and otherwise .
The symbol for the "Becoming Visible" ex hi bit is th e pink
triangle, a symbol first used by the Nazis to ma rk gay men forannihilation. It was later claimed as a prid e symbol by gay men

1. "Becoming Visible" received frequ ent publicity and posit ive rev iews in
The New York Times. This is not surprisin g once one no tes that this con ve ntional newspaper was a donor to th e exhibit. Tha t th e pape r sponsored thisexhibit should not be interpreted as a p rog ress ive sta nce towa rds lesbianvisibility. To the contrary, an off our backs ex pose of th e newspa per notesthat despite over 50 articles on Stonewa ll, th e coverage was "very m aleoriented" (branner, 1994) . To promo te lesbian visibil ity duri ng th e weeklong Stonewall commemoration, th e Lesbi an Ave ngers organ ized an international march down Fifth Avenue on Jun e 25, 1994 . The New York Times,
which received an award for its "outs ta ndin g na ti onal coverage of Ston ewall history, culture and eve nts" fr om the Gay and Lesb ian Alliance
Against Defamation (GLAAD) , prov id ed onl y ni ne lin es to cap ture thislesbian march which garn ered th ousa nd s of wome n .

38sinister wisdom #55

in the aftermath of the Stonewall riots of 1969. The appropriation of this symbol Americanizes the Holocaust even as it conceals lesbian visibility.2 Lesbians, as a group, were never collectively marked for persecution by the Nazis . The pink triangle
was an exclusively gay male designation. That this symbol
graced the Fifth Avenue entrance at 42nd Street to greet exhibit
crowds was the first clue that lesbian 'V isibility would be cloaked
within the sexist belief that maleness is so universal that it canembrace "lesbian-kind ."As the exhibit brochure insists, the show seeks to place theStonewall Inn riots within a "broader context." Attention quickly
moves from police violence against gay men in drag and a few
lesbians to the larger repressive heterosexist network of church,state and medical establishment. Gay men and lesbians are
credited with challenging sanctions that have historically been
imposed against them. Such efforts, it is argued, gave rise to an
America in which many "believe that homosexuality is as moral,
healthy, and socially acceptable as heterosex uality" (emphasis
added) .
The politics of lesbian feminism are effectively pushed tothe margins. The otherwise noteworthy feminist insight thatheterosexuality is a coercive institution of male supremacy(Rich, 1980) is ignored by the overwhelmingly queer analysis
that permeates the exhibit. 3 That many lesbian feminists view
their lesbianism revolutionary if not preferable to heterosexuality is not discussed . Lesbianism, no longer regarded a.s achoice, is reduced to sexual practice, one "as acceptable asheterosexuality."

2. For a detailed critiqu e of th e appropriation of this sy mb ol as well as thepolitical consequences, see my fo rthcomin g article in Journal of Homosexuality (1995).
3. By "queer analysis" I am referrin g to gay mill e analysis which , inanaly tic dra g, claims to incorpora te th e interes ts of lesb ians, gay m en andbisexuals alike. Stated simply, one notes a diminished lesbian (not to mention feminist) presence over time. In th e w ord s of Sheila Jeffr eys, sudd enly one is confronted with "th e qu eer disa ppearance of lesbians" (1 994).

Spring/ Summer'995

39

The most fiercely feminist aspects of the lesbian movement
are given short shrift by this corporate-sponsored exhibition.
For example, lesbian separatists are reduced to historical relicsof the "early women's community." Separatism is mentioned
once and swiftly dismissed : "Separatism as a stra·t egy and life
choice was almost exclusively the province of white, middleclass women and was not a useful strategy for many African
American and working class women because it could not address
the range of problems they confronted in their everyday lives ."Ironically, this assertion serves the ends it is meant to critique.
That is, African American women of all classes and working classwomen of all races are made invisible by this biased depictionof separatism.4 Male power as a problem confronted by all womenis deftly reduced to a non-problem or issue that only "privileged
women" have the luxury to acknowledge.
Throughout the exhibit there is the conspicuous absenceof meaningful discussion of lesbian desire and need for autonomy. This is to be expected from an exhibit that conflates
gay male invisibility and oppression with that confronted bylesbians. Nonetheless, the moments of acknowledged differences bear comment. Under a subsection e ntitled "Organizing," the exhibit poster and brochure rea d : "While gay men
and women worked together ... many les bians created theirown women's community institutions and lesbian feminist
organizations." When the sexism of the male dominated "gay"movement is acknowledged, attention shifts from male domination to the heterosexism of the women's movement: "By1970, it became clear to many of these wo m en th at issu esraised by their dual oppressions as w omen and as lesbians
were not being addressed in either mo ve ment [i .e., gay mo vement or women' s movement] so they created a new movement,
lesbian feminist." Awareness of male d omination is diluted by

4. For an excellent collection of wri tings that help to correc t the rev isionism of those hostile to women's autonomy, rea d For Lesb ians Only: A Sepa ratist Anthology (1 988) .

40 sinister wisdom #55

emphasizing heterosexist culprits within the feminist movement. Within the exhibit, there is one statement that exclusively underscores sexism. Morgan Murie1child is quoted, "".
Gay men for the most part are as sexist and woman-hating asstraight men." This insight, however, was descriptively confined to a "1970s rift." This implies that gay men have more
recently transcended their long-held' contempt for women.
Charges of racism, like those of heterosexism, are largely
confined to women. The racism of gay white men is studiously
avoided, as are the various privileges gay men enjoy as men.
Yet, gay men are rarely depicted as advantaged in any way.
Like other men, gay men often equate each impediment to theirfull exercise of power with oppression. By contrast, the slightest degree of influence that women have, or are thought toenjoy, is criticized as privilege that will be wrongfully exercised. Male power is justified, women's power is illegitimate
and particularly suspect when directed toward their "empowerment."
The racism present in the resurgence of role playing andslm is devoid of critical commentary. An array of lesbian
fiction is prominently displayed with the following text:"Lesbian pulp offered vital portrayals, not of lesbian 'issues,'
but of tempestuous lesbian lives and bodies to match - thecharming, curvaceous red-mouthed femmes (almost always
blonde), the suave, lean, clear-eyed butches (almost always
brunette), meeting and making love only as two women can."The exclusion of women of color from this section is not
mentioned. One is to conclude that, unlike feminism, slm
and role playing are not problems, but are central to lesbianidentity. In a curt reflection on "Night Life," one notes twoitems. The first is a flyer for a lesbian pride dance, the second
an advertisement for the Clit Club. This New York bar boasts
of a "woman-only party to benefit the Ms. Northeast Leather
Travel Fund." S/M is promoted as modern memorabilia - acentral component of lesbian culture in the 1990s.
Numerous references to the Holocaust demonstrate a similar impoverishment of political understanding. Not only isSpring/ Summer 1995

41

appropriating the pink triangle a problem, but so too are references to AIDS as a Holocaust. To equate a disease with theintentional desire of the Nazi state to annihilate all Jews is todeny the unique circumstances that contributed to the planned
destruction of two thirds of European Jewry. When gay men
use the term "Holocaust" to speak of the devastation of AIDS,
they disregard the conceptual clarity necessary to guard against
its recurrence.
The United States government's early response to HIV
deaths was indifference. This probably resulted more from
homophobia than from the government's desire to annihilate
gay men. The government has since expended more resources
to prevent the spread of HIV and assist those who have thedisease. To assert that the government's indifference to AIDS isanalogous to Nazi perpetrated genocide is to suggest that Nazi
atrocities are no worse than the apathy of the United States
government when confronting a deadly disease. As the eminent
Holocaust scholar Lucy Dawidowicz has noted, subsuming
all suffering under the classification of a Holocaust is one of
the most treacherous forms of Holocaust denial (1981).
The Americanization of the Holocaust is again evoked byan encased bumper sticker which reads : "Will History Repeat
Itself?" . Under this red stenciled question, three are listed:
Hitler, McCarthy and Anita Bryant. To equate McCarthy and
Bryant with Hitler is to argue that the Nazi dictator was not
an exceptional perpetrator of evil. It also overlooks the ways
Hitler successfully harnessed the energy of "his" people andtheir state for the systematized mass murder of a people.
Senator Joseph McCarthy exploited the fear of Communism
in the United States and solidified his power by identifying
his opponents as enemies of the American people. The resulting paranoia led to the persecution of people identified ascommunists. Anita Bryant, a pop singer and spokeswoman
for Florida orange juice, campaigned for the repeal of a Florida
gay rights ordinance in 1977. She pursued a campaign against
gay rights throughout that year. Though her activism intensified bigotry against homosexuals, Bryant's efforts did not42 sinister wisdom #55

result in extermination. Neither communists nor gays andlesbians, suspected or real, were systematically rounded up,
ghettoized, forced into slave labor and exterminated.
The above-mentioned bumper sticker implies that gay men
and lesbians share a similar history of state-sponsored genocide on the North American continent. Consequently, all bigotry is reduced to a horrifying and s-implistic uniformity. That
the Holocaust involved a state and political movement dedicated to the destruction of a people is conveniently overlooked .
The appropriation and trivialization of Holocaust symbols andpersonalities playa decisive role in our subsequent understanding of the horror of this historic tragedy. Careless analogies may result from a lack of language to depict despair andthe inability to destroy the social acceptabili ty of heterosexism.
However, these analogies desecrate Jewish experience andmemory. Such interpretations must be discouraged if we are toeffectively understand and counter oppression.
Critical reflection on the past helps to provide an oppressedg~oup with ammunition to dismantle the pernicious conditions of the present. The "Becoming Visible" exhibit boasted ofproviding such a context. It was purposefully designed to render gay men and lesbians visible in a society that seeks to deny
their existence. The exhibit falls short of affording lesbians thepolitical integrity to confront the oppression they experience.
There are two reasons for this. First, gay and lesbian oppression
is carelessly analogized to other injustices. This reduces all
oppression to a simplistic uniformity which compromises ourunderstanding of the distinctive components of various injustices. We render any movement for liberation ineffective when
we are analytically imprecise. Second, the show's assimilationof lesbian identity within the gay movement further legitimizes the movement which ultimately advances male domination. Lesbian thought, visible integrity, action and politics areoften lost or diminished within the context of the gay male or"queer" movement. Enthusiasm for such hetero-alliances isdifficult to sustain in the face of evidence that contradicts suchan idealized image of ga y and lesbian coopera tion and progress.

Spring/ Summ er 1995

43

Selected References

branner, amy c. (August-September 1994). "There Was A Dyke
March?" off our backs
Dawidowicz, Lucy. (1981) . The Holocau st and the Historians.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Elman, R. Amy. (1995) . "Triangles and Tribulations: The Politics of Nazi Symbols." Journal of Homosexuality, Volume 30,
Number 3, forthcoming.
Hoagland, Sarah Lucia and Penelope, Julia . (1988) . For Lesbians Only: A Separatist Anthology. London : Onlywomen Press .
Jeffreys, Sheila. (1994) . "The queer disa ppearance of lesbians: sexuality in the academy." Wo men's Studies International
Forum, Volume 17, Number 5,459-472.
Rich, Adrienne. (1980). "Compulsory heteros exuality and lesbian existence." Signs, 5, 631-660.
.

s~t;"'K.

Oo'EAJ...4A!>""'''''011 u.tlL'_

Systemic Overload
Peni Hall44 sinister wisdom #55

Gloria Yamato

Trust
Lay back
breathe evencontent to let me
content to let me taketo let me take what is mine
be content to let me take my time
content to let me stoke a slow burn fire
Lay back and let me run thisLet me run my hand let me run it
over your skin until I find all the places
that hum and vibrate til you purr a drone
as the heat mounts let me mount you ride
across the rustling field of you lay backlet me ride through the damp furrow of youlay }Jack and let me peel away silk and featheredlayers of you tightly coiled and heavily spiced
curls of you breathe deep and evenlaid back and open let me gather quivering
tingling roots of you fill my hand let me
fill my hand with you lay back content
to let me fill you and empty you open

Spring/Summer 1995

4S

Marg-Adele Norrington

The Waiting RoomI pushed the elevator button and swallowed hard. Despite
my efforts, the consuming nausea immediately filled me withhelpless dread . The elevator door opened. The woman standing there was in her sixties. Her short white hair, good muscle
tone, her straight posture and her bright clear eyes made me
hope I would look half as good at sixty.
"Hell, I can still look, can't I?"
She walked in, wincing each time she put her weight on
her right foot. She smiled at the girl behind the desk.
I was there for my third year check up, so I too was donning a johnny and robe before coming back to the waiting
room. I sat alone until the woman from the elevator came tosit. This room where I waited for radiation treatments three
years ago, felt different.
My memory filled the room with women the day one of
the machines sprung a leak. We waited together for almost
three hours. This brought about an intimacy more intensethan friendship and very different from family, almost likesex.
After being away for several days to take my senior
comprehensives, I was back. It had been such a big thing towalk away from this one Friday. A week later, it was hard tocome back. I had walked in, trying not to show my anxiety
and grinning because I knew of nothing else to do. Turning
to the full waiting room, I said, "I knew you would welcome
me back, but is there a reason for seven of you to be here?"Lynn, a fifty-year-old woman with graying red-brownhair and wide blue eyes said, "They have a leak. What time is
it now?"
Mary, a heavy-set woman lifted her swollen arm and answered, "Twelve-thirty, I was supposed to go at eleven."46 sinister wisdom #5 5

Ann smiled, "My appointment is for ten-thirty, and Lynn,
you're fifteen minutes before me aren't you, because they
have been so efficient that we haven't seen each other all
week."
Lois coughed, trying hard to do so· quietly. "Let's starttelling stories, we could be here hours before they let us gohome or treat us. Not only do they have to fix the leak, butthen they have to calibrate. If any of us miss today, it justmeans another day so let's tell our best summer folk stories."
She coughed again and then finally sighed.
A young girl with hair about a half inch long came to thedoor. "Are they running late or is this a meeting?"
Lois tried to answer and gave up in a fit of coughing. Ann
answered, "They told us there was a water leak and that was
about two hours ago. Go change and come introduce yourself."
Lois, gasping for breath, said quietly, "Bone marrow andbreast cancer at eighteen, so she has her nineteenth birthday
and they toss her down here with the adults."
Mary said, "I have bone cancer and breast cancer."
Lois said, "I don't want to talk about cancer. I'm going totell you a true story!"
Everyone smiled and nodded and the young woman cameback and took the only vacant seat.
Lois began, "Up in Holton, we have a woman who is acontractor and sometimes a truck driver, but this one summer
she had contracted to fix up one of those old farm houses forsome wealthy folk from down in New York City.
"Well, I guess they liked the way she did it, there weren't
nothing wrong with the work Rita did, cause she always put
together a crew who could do anything she couldn't do herself. It was always get tin' her to agree to do it. Anyways, they
were real happy with what she and her crew had done up
there in Holton. So the man calls when he is down in that New
York City and asks Rita to come down cause he wants her towork on something they have in Connecticut. Well now, I guess
Rita had always had a hankering to see that big city, so shetells us she'll be back as soon as the. job is done and off she
goes.

Spring/Summer 1995

47

"The man must've give her awful good directions cause
Rita didn't seem to have no trouble finqing the place .. Shesays as how she had to take the elevator up some fifteen
floors and then she steps right out in front of a receptionist'sdesk. Well, Rita tells her how the man called . This womanpressed buttons and then points Rita toward a big door. Rita
walks in and there are a couple of men talking to the guy thatcalled her. Rita tells it that these men are really dressed up
with silk suits and fancy shirts and stuff. She said it made her
feel kind of foolish in her linen pants suit from Eddie Bauer
that she got for her birthday.
.
"Well now, the guy stopped talking to those two men andhe come right over to Rita and starts telling Rita what he wants
and Rita says for this man to give her a pencil and paper andshe'll figure it out right now. The man gets her the stuff andhe takes Rita in another room with a desk and tells her tocome right back as soon as she's finished figuring it.
"Rita said she kind of padded the estimate. Even so it wasdone in half an hour, so she gathers up her papers and walks
back into the first office. The man who sent her in the otherroom has gone out. The other two guys, who were dressed so
fancy are still there. They are smiling at each other and staring at Rita. She really should be used to it, she' s a fine looking
woman.
"Rita, trying to be friendly, asks what they do for a living
and they say they run numbers. Rita was thinking about
asking if that was like the New York Lottery or such, when
one of them asks Rita what she does, grinning kind of funny.
"Rita says she was feeling kind of like she was being
made fun of, so she looked the one right in the eye. Then she
said, 'I'm an independent contractor. Mr. Smith called me to
do a job for him down in Connecticut. H e asked me to figure
cost and come ba~k in here . Now, do you suppose I should
just leave this on his desk or should I wait?'"Now, Rita had hoped this would sound kind of impressive to these fancy dressed men, but she all owed as how she
was totally surprised at what happened nex t.

48 sinister wisdom #55"She said those two men jumped up and said, 'A contractor for a job in Connecticut, and he called you from out of
town .'"Rita said she repeated it, for she didn't know if maybe
one of the fellows was hard of hearing, but she couldn't
figure why they were edging their way along the wall to thedoor and then they scrambled throu~h it like a couple of barn
mice when the kittens start hunting.
"Mr. Smith came back about then. He asked Rita where
the other two fellows had gone. Rita explained she had told
them that Mr. Smith called her because she was a contractor.
Seems Mr. Smith took a fit of laughing and it was another ten
minutes until he could explain that down in his part of thecountry, a contractor ain't a house builder, but a person who
does killing for hire. Mr.' Smith explained most people werepretty intimidated by his two body guards . Rita's height,
she's almost six foot, I think she's five ten, and her total lackof fear had probably gone a long way toward the mistake . He
wasn't upset none and Rita made a real bundle doing thathouse down in Connecticut."
Lois' face was blue from talking so much, but the appreciation all around her partially made up for her pain.
The memory faded and I looked up seeing the only other
woman in the waiting room staring at me . I reached for atissue and dried my tears.
"I was remembering a story a woman named Lois Darby
told when I was here three years ago . I would like to know if
she made it."
The woman smiled. "No, she died last winter, she was mylover and now it is my turn."
The nurse came to the door, "Rita Taylor, we're ready foryou now."
The waiting room filled with silence aga in in this part of
the world where a day is 1,440 precious minutes long and all
the women here try to remember that once they were beautiful to someone.

Spring/Summer 1995

49

Kleya Forte-Escamilla

Coyotesthe conquest was the great leveler
turning earth into pay n saves clearing
the streets of shy beautiful women inrebozos downtown where a round plazita
held sheltering cottonwoods there
are straight exact sidewalks &uniformly cut lawns
there areno benches no more viejitos to sit on them
the new old stay in hygenic condos airconditioned "sun homes".
they have no need for shade trees
no need to move in & out of theirdwellings with the changing seasons nourgings of the blood but here
in the barrio vacantlots are sprouting everywhere holes
growing rocks & sage & wild mornin g
glories each time a bunchof quelites springs up through cement
cracks mi corazon cheers each time
another neon sign goes out for gooda bigger sky opens to hands & eyes in
the west a natural bajada holds a riveracross mountain darkness
ascending earth rims the stars
I count the holes like others countdollars every deteriorating abandonedbuilding proof the graft didn't take proof
the desert is alive
barking of dogs echoes through the openings
these days
coyotes are running again w ith the dogs

50 sinister wisdom #55

Judith K. Witherow
Sue Lenaerts

Spring/Summer 1995

51

Carya tis Cardea

A Question of Family
For several years now, I have observed the efforts of dykes tomake family among ourselves. I have also watched us mournour repeated failures . I want to examine what family means,
why we want it (or don't), and whether it is success or failure
to achieve it. All of this would constitute a book, which meansthat this is more of a work in progress, in which I will present
some of the topics 1 want us to delve into and some of thereasons I think they're worth unraveling.
All patriarchal societies are structured around the guarantee of female sexual availability to men . .It is a foundation so
profoundly accepted as never to need stating. Lesbians alone
totally reject sexual contact with men. (This is the distinction
between us and either straight or bisexual women . Why theyfind this so difficult to grasp, 1'm sure I don't know.) So, rightoff the mark, we are outside the group of people who could,
within the meaning of the dominant society, construct family.
A family is a man and his wife, children, pets and possessions. That's the material reality. We don't need to d u plica tethis, and couldn't if we wanted to. But, there is also theimmaterial, the togetherness, the forever-ness, the loyalty,
companionship, unconditional love that so many of us associate with the ideal of family. So, what can we do that we
could recognize, among ourselves, as family?
Family can be a grouping of people containing no men,but having adult womyn and, sometimes, children related byblood or law or custom. But another problem we have, as
lesbians, is that we have no automatic way to designate members of our families. We are not related to anyone but ourchildren by blood or by law. And our customs mean nothing
to the outside society and very little more to us. I've known ofgroups of dykes who took a last name in cornmon, forming aclan of sorts. I've known many dykes who made formal

52 sinister wisdom #55

commitments of permanence with their lovers. And, more
rarely, I've known of lesbians who marked, by celebrationand special designation, certain long-term friendships. It may
hot seem like much, but my closest friend for a decade always
introduced me as her "dear friend, Carya·tis," while I referredto her as "my best friend, Indigo." Of course, she married aman so we don't say those things any more. But, I digress.
More commonly, though, we acknowledge only our lovers in any ritual way, duplicating the only non-blood relationship ceremonially sanctioned in heterosexual life. We
also copy the only absolutely impermanent one of patriarchy's
relationships. Spouses are the ones who can come and go. It's
the sisters who are forever, and the cousins, aunts, children,and those to whom we remain related because of children: comothers, ex-lovers, goddess mothers, the children of friends
and ex-lovers.
Language, as usual, automatically betrays lesbians. Withus, there is only one word other than lover. (And, of course, itsvariation - ex-lover - and whatever other things we may
call them!). The only other term we have is friend. This is mostcommonly true among white lesbians who, unlike many lesbians of color, ceased addressing each other as "sister" some timein the late '70s. Even among dykes of color in the '90s, though,I'm not sure it is used to distinguish degrees of closeness*.
When making introductions, my friend is signified by theterm "my friend." My friend's friend is termed "my friend."
My friend's lover is deemed to be "my friend." My lover's
friend is "my friend." My co-worker and the dyke who rides
to marches with me are "my friend" and "my friend." Mylover's ex-lover with whom she's still friendly is "my friend."
And, if, in some context, the phrase "my lover" is too personal, too revealing a thing to say, then even my lover is "myfriend." For that matter, if I'm lucky, my ex-lover, too, is "myfriend." Those less close to us may be referred to as "acquain-" Thanks to Jamie for reminding me of this.

Spring/Summer'995

53tance," but then we're out of the realm of family. How, fromthis foundation of uniformity, do we hope to construct themulti-level, multi-layer house in which the tangled networkof family lives?
Family is interconnecting strands of purportedly sexual,
nonsexual and asexual attachments which, when taken together,
give everyone - in theory, now, and in addition to a place tofeel wanted and sexual- a place to feel safe, and a place to feelnot-sexual. Lesbians have no such place, no such category, nosuch possibility. Whether or not straight womyn lust for one
another in practice, in theory they are nonsexual with eachother. They can share sexual secrets and practices and fears
precisely because they will never, in theory, be sexual with eachother.
Nor will they have a sexual partner in common. Evening
soap operas and daytime talk shows asid~, womyn rarely run
off with their sisters' husbands. And when they do, it is not
accepted as simply the next configuration of family: it is ascandal. It is a violation of trust, a breach of one womon's
privacy. Again, lesbians have no such safe territory. Everybody seems to be somebody else's once or future lover. We
have an excess of sexual vulnerability - and we wonder why
we have so much trouble talking about sex.
I was talking to my friend, Suz Fields, one day (see what
I mean, that usage cannot convey to you whether this person
is a casual acquaintance or a member of my lesbian family in fact, she is the latter) and Suz said family is what getscreated over time with other dykes . You can try to create it, but
you'll probably fail. His simply what happens when lesbians
are there for each other over and over through the years.
I think Suz is right about that. We've all watched dykes
who are in a new and disturbingly volatile lover relationshipmove in together after two or three months . Working in lesbian
law offices, I've seen dykes give their wills and powers of
attorney to lovers they've known less than a year. We seem to beafraid to give things the time they require. Sure, straight peoplerush to the altar in short order too, but when they end up in54 sinister wisdom #55

divorce court, they are not soured on the notion of heterosexuality (unfortunately). They simply blame it on men, or
womyn, or their parents, or their in-laws, or their own youth .
I've heard dykes cite the fact of painful break-ups as a reason
to abandon lesbianism for heterosexuality. Dykes tend to
throw out our whole concept of self-definition, our belief inthe rightness of lesbianism, when a" love affair goes wrong.
And there's another term we don't use: affair. For too manyof us, anyone with whom we are sexual for a time must be ourlover, and must, therefore, be the equivalent of a spouse, someone with whom we need to live, have children, buy a house,marry, write wills or whatever symbol of permanence we attach to such things.
We are lacking the degrees of interconnectedness whichbring quality to family life . In the outside world, we know that,with certain exceptions, we are closer to our cousins than to our
ex-spouse's second cousin's niece. In lesbian culture, too manyof us feel that each of our friendships, any friendships, allfriendships, entitle us to the same magnitude of intellectualand emotional intimacy, the same quantity and quality of timeas any other friendships . But, back in family, my cousin knew
I'd be closer with her than with a girlfriend fron1 my street, whoknew I'd be closer with her than with some kid from school,
who knew that the exception was 1'd be closer with just aboutanyone than my older sister, who was and is, sad to say, a creep.
And they all knew that even though I didn't like my sister
much, I would let no one speak ill of her. She earned loyalty justby being my sister. Mostly, the very names by which our relationships were described told us this informa tion. Too often,
with us, the calendar is what rules us, preference by right ofprior appointment, rather than extent of conn ec tion like family.
Occasionally, there are friendship circles that go on foryears, much to the envy of those dykes who've been unable
to create that. But at the center of such a constellation is oftena twin star of two womyn who were once lovers, or who
actually want to be lovers with each other, but have neverSpring/Summer'995

55

quite worked it out. Sometimes, their lovers sense this . Sometimes their friends do. Sometimes I run in terror at the verysight of such a spectacle.
It's not always bad, though, to have - or not to have sexual energy with friends . I have friends of years' standing
with whom I have never known a moment's sexual tension.
Still, it is our sexuality, our lesbianism, which binds us asclosely as we are bound. Some of them have doubted this, but
I know us - we're separatists and there's no way we could feelthe trust and closeness we share if one of us was doing it withmen. Couldn't happen . Yet, we remain safe within the vulnerability of our lesbian intimate friendship because we know,
though we may never say it, that neither of us will ever comeon to the other. We also know that we resp ect each other like
sisters.
Real sisters. The kind who know that when your sister has
been intensely involved with someone, that someone remains
off limits to you, even after they break up . Dykes don't live
like that. We're done being lovers, we just toss 'em right backinto the common pool and when our fri ends and lovers become involved, the ex'es are just supposed to conjure upsome placid, benevolent smile and wish eve ryo ne the greatest happiness. That is not how family works.
And it is not how it works for us. We violate every standard by which family is structured and keep wondering why
it collapses about our ears . We just keep saying that it should
work, and then inflict social punishment o n the hapless d yke
who publicly admits that she can't make it work. That she
doesn't, as a matter of fact, want her bes t fri end and closest
confidante to become sexual partners with her most recent
ex-lover with whom she wishes she we re still involved.
Of course, I've also had friends of years' s tanding withwhom there is something palpably sexual. We're always justa little more physical with each other than is absolutely necessary, or than we each are with our other friends. This is partof the loveliness of lesbianism. We don't have to pretend wehave no physical reactions to womyn friends. Sometimes weS6 sinister wisdom #55

have the discussion: Yes, we know it's there, No, we really
don't want to do anything about it.
Other times, it is known, but in silence, simply by the factthat we are each so completely into the friend part of ourinteraction that we wouldn't risk disturbing it, or so into ourseparate lover relationships that we know we would not jeopardize them. And we may also knDw that we could nevermake it as lovers, there just happens to be this physical energy
component to our interactions. More of us need to learn howthat is done, that business of knowing that two people cannot
necessarily make it in an intimate sexual relationship justbecause they have the hots for each other.
You see, even a ritually sanctioned lover relationship has
to signify the link between more than the two parties mostdirectly affected. In heterosexual culture (and I'm not suggesting we take them for our model, I'm only saying that if weare going to keep pining for the security they have, we might
as well acknowledge how they obtained it), a wedding is astatement made by the two people to each other. It is, usually,
however, witnessed by most of their relatives and friends
who become, in a very real way, a part of the pact. They
become dedicated to helping the relationship thrive, throughgifts and parties, through invitations to the two people as acouple. They respect the relationship's boundaries, adopting
the new person in a relationship appropriate to themselves
based on their closeness to one or both of th e participants.
We have no way to respect the totality of any of our relationships because we have no names, no definitions, noboundaries identifying our connections with each other. We
know who our "spouses" are, but who are our sisters - in a
familial sense, not a political one - who are our cousins, ouraunts, our daughters, our second cousins, our sisters-in-law?
I've heard dykes bemoan the difficult y of creating lifelong friendships among ourselves, to parallel those which
straight women have little difficulty maintaining . But we aredifferent from straight women. No one on earth is compelled
to embrace change like a lesbian. Not to say we don't dig inSpring/Summer 199557

our heels now and again, but the very fact of being lesbian,
not heterosexual and not bisexual, means that we are anchored nowhere, as females, in this larger patriarchal society
and culture. We are, in a sense, cultural wanderers, having
drifted from the communities into which we were born, andbeing still unable to construct a model to replace them.
Un tethered to many of society's proscriptions, we grow anddevelop and change and age and mature more, and more
rapidly, than straight women could ever do. And, in our maturity, we never look as weary of life as they do.
Heterosexual womyn are bound to one another by theadversarial nature of their relationships with men. They areeven safe in their hatred of men - and you're kidding yourselves if you think they don't hate men - because they remain sexually available. With the exception of separatis ts
and a few other radical types, lesbians do not feel safe hating
men because we are already traitors to every other expectation of the culture. It's as though they can withhold theirsexual selves, but must withhold contempt as well, so as tomaintain some approval from the dominant culture. Thus, theanimosity between dykes who hate men and dykes who don't.
Straight women have one essential simplicity in their lives
which lesbians do not have. They have one pool of people men - from whom they choose their sexual partners and an
occasional friend. They have another pool of people - women- from whom they choose their friends, but never, in theory,
their lovers. They also have prohibitions which protect heterosexual intimacies. A heterosexual womon can sit in a group of
any number of womyn and talk about her sexual history,
preferences and hang-ups without fear of violating the privacy of another womon in the room, who happens to be her
ex-lover. She can talk about her past lovers wi thout fear that
her ex's current lover is in the room. Straight wo myn possess
a whole zone of privacy we've been tryin g to live without,and we simply don't know how.
Before we can even begin to discuss th ese things among
ourselves, we must recognize how relatively defenseless we58 sinister wisdom #55

are against each other. In the dominant society, things told
among women in their private world apart from men remainin that world. Dykes have no such separation nor any possibility of creating one. (The possible exception would be theultra-stratified world of butch and femme, which appeals tome about as much as heterosexuality itself.) I don't thinkinventing words to better describe dur relationships is necessarily the answer. I am overwhelmed with the possibilities forsuch naming, in a subculture which has 18 different ways tospell woman. It is more important that we develop an ethics onwhich we can rely for the psychic separation, the emotionalboundaries, the intellectual safety we need to survive within
the romantic and sexual vulnerability of being lesbians wholove lesbians. It is this set of ethical standards I encourage useach to work to create.

Spring/ Summer 1995

59

Erika Feigenbaum

untrueShe had seen the vacancy before
while rain batted coldness through the car
and through the windshield reflected like tears
in streams on her cheeks. Only she had notbeen crying, not at all. For years
she echoed stillness, waited for t~is pause.
I hung myself up on the seat to hear
her heart slip between the sighs and silenceof the rain. It called distinctly on themelancholy prose she'd read for years
which empties our callings like a cruel stain
whispering a craving for unseen color.
We syndicate the kisses like tiny experiments
and jest at perennial loves that tasteof sweet grass and sage, too simple
for our pain. Until the clouds thicken
into wide paragraphs I'll watch the trembling
seconds mesmerize our hands, knuckles knotted,
when our grip shifts to singleness in dismay.
Only the rain stops its pelting,but the burden rests with us.

60 sinister wisdom #55

Lisa Manning

I don't need you to agree with metborr~wed

he man with thehead comes lip talking tome now I'm not saying I didn't invite engage involve him,
I did. so he comes with his chirpy little agreement and acceptancestory, the yes-it' s-all-terrible-bu t-oh-well-life-is-like-tha t
story. he chirps his little story to agree with my cursing spitting
story of frustration and futile rage and chirps on in agreement withhimself everything is that bad, but not really, the story turns
into a chuckling little story about how the world goes - madefor him, of course, it is, the white man, smiling and in agreementwith himself. he is wonderful, everyone can see it.

Spring/Summer'995 61

Gloria Yamato

Quilombo'We ate death chewing
with strong white teeth
our canvas sails devoured the screaming
wind roaring as laughter ourshelter billowed above our heads
what sorrow sprawls
long limbs blue-black
the tumble of bone and memory
as undeniable as dusk
only undulant iridescentskin on shallow pools
remains after everything that was gave into the tides pull returning more than treasure
to depths unsounded
cool and smooth as the African backs of
our Most Revered Mothers comely Nzinga
is consoled by nothing coarser than the finest
brocade woven by our grandfathers this tale ofroyalty who owned themselves and the loyalty
of subjects our distant cousins chests dark andfragile vessels dashed to bits
against rocky landings
our origins the wealth splattereda humorless reign pummeling terra no va into
mud we reddened bricks baked until
our tongues cracked with words hardened
pale as possibilities we don't realize
lamenta civilization died before its birth62 sinister wisdom #55

Sauda Burch

Fragments

I performed a piece of this work for a fililal class project at Brava! For
Women in the Arts, in San Francisco, CA during the summer of
1994. For my final project, I chose to explore the relationship between
a lesbian daughter and her mother. The mother in this piece, is alsomentally disabled. I am a lesbian daughter with a mother with mental
and physical disabilities. This autofiction piece parallels my own
experiences.
When I began writing this piece, I was hopeful about my relationship with my mother. We had been talking more and fighting less. I
felt she was finally coming to some resolution about my being alesbian . I have been "out" for over twelve years and would characterize our relationship as sporadically hostile. Most of our interactions
seldom touch, on any substantial level, my lesbianism, helped in part,by my moving to California.
As I delved into this work, I was struck by how often I wanted tocry, scream, rage, realizing, on a new level, the shields I had erected
to protect myself against my mother's abandonment and illnesses. I
held an enormous amount of grief. I wished my mother and I could
find a place with each other that wasn't so painful.
Midway through the class session, my mother and I had a major
falling out. I decided that I could no longer have her in my life.
Suddenly, my theater piece transformed from a work about mending
relationship to one about the loss of relationship. Few of the words inmy piece had changed, but my relation to th e work was radicallyaltered. I was an emotional mess. Each time I got on stage duringclass, I fell apart. I decided not to perform. Fortunately, my director,
Amy Mueller and my partner, Xochi helped me realize that performing might help release and resolve some of the pain I was carrying.
"Fragments" is one of thirty three works in progress that explores
my relationship with my mother. Writing and performing is one way
I stay emotionally healthy and creative, a way of va lidating my life
experiences.

Spring/ Summer 1995

63

Note: There are three other typefaces used in this piece. The sansserif bold type is directly from my solo performance. The material insans-serif roman is flashbacks or internal dialogue. Towards the end,
the serif roman type is pieces of a short story.

Daughter
When I was a little girl, I thought you were the mostbeautiful woman in the world. All my friends said so. Yomama sho' is pretty. What happened to you?
Sometimes at night when I am lying alone in the dark, I
remember sleeping with you. How all five of us fought to
get in your bed.
When it was my turn, I anticipated having you to myself,
falling asleep to Muzak - bland distortions of all my favorite songs.
On weekends, we would wake up arid talk, just you andme. I would get up and make breakfast, bringing yours to bed.
You were the first woman I fell in love with.

Mother to Psychiatrist
There it was. Sitting in front of me like it belonged tosomebody else. One morning the walls were closing in,cold, cement lime green blocks, fighting for space, blocking
me in. That afternoon, with nothing particular having happened, no child hurt or sick, the same walls shrank away,baring me - leaving me to myself. The further away they
moved, the more I ached for them.
Doctor, you're always telling me to sit down. But that's
the problem - sitting still. I have spent years in one chair,in the same room, watching everything and everyone pass,faster and faster, moving away like the last train to places
I will never see. I come here every day hoping something
different will happen. Like you will talk to me as if I matter.
But you just sit there staring. You don't smile at me. You
don't really look at me, do you? I can see you looking pastme, at anything but me. Are you afraid? Worried you can't
make my life better? My life may seem small and predictable

64 sinister wisdom #55

but it's all over the place, messy, refusing to fit. It can't bemade neat in your chart and then filed away until the nexttime.
I wonder about people who ride the trains, moving awayfrom what they know. When you find, yourself at the place
the train takes you, can you ever come back home and want
to stay?
•
Daughter

The first time Mama went away I was eight years old,though I remember feeling much older, as if I had gone throughit all before. I could not have told anyone how I felt. I swallowed
down the feelings that came up from my stomach, the spinningin my head that left me dizzy.
Maybe I remember that first time because my baby sister
had just been born. Daddy had left us and Mama got sick.
Actually, Daddy left first, my baby sister was born and Mama
went into the hospital a few weeks after. But Mama must havegone away before. Everything was oddly familiar. One daythings were as they had been, the next day we were separated
from each other, Mama, our new baby sister.
I was sent to stay with my favorite girl cousin . She lived ina sprawling public housing project, five buildings, each witheighteen stories of box apartments with long outdoor corridors
and huge gray elevators which smelled of old urine. Alice lived
with her mother, her father and four brothers. They had three
bedrooms and Alice had her own since she was the only girl.
She had plastered her walls with Michael Jackson posters. She
played his records over and over, and fantasi zed that she andhe would be married. No matter where I turned in her room,
there he was, smiling at me with those dreamy eyes.
I sat alone at the kitchen table eating Corn Flakes after mycousins left for school. Late afternoon, I stared out the window
while I waited for my cousins to come home.
My brothers went down South - Mississippi to stay with
our people there. My older sister and the baby stayed with myfather's sister. When we were back home, my brother told meSprin g/ Summer 1995

65

he felt like running away. He kept calling home to have Mama
to come get him. There was no answer. What could I say to
comfort him?

•••
Mama has night sickness, throws up sausage in the bathroom sink. She comes in our bedroom and talks about names
for the baby. She sits on the edge of my sister's bed, staring out
the closed window. The lights from the street shine on her face .
The window is all steamed up. It's winter, but our room is
overheated. The heat never goes off in the winter and we haveno way to control it. She sits still for a long time, as if she wants
my sister or me to do something. She wants to talk about what's
really on her mind. Maybe she wants to talk about Daddy
leaving. Maybe she wants to come lie in bed with me.
Daddy comes to visit. He says the baby is of the devil. I don't
hear him say it but Mama tells us later. Look how she neverstops crying he says . It's true, the baby opens her mouth andlets go huge screams that wake us and the neighbors next door
who pound on the wall with a broomstick. Why doesn't she
stop crying? Daddy comes to see her but he doe sn't pick her up.
He just stands over her crib looking down at her, shaking hishead . Maybe Daddy didn't want another baby. But I think hemade Mama scared of the baby. She believes something's
wrong with the baby too .
After my mother comes back from the hospital, my little
brother lies like a puppy under the cocktail tabl e near her feet .
He sucks his thumb and falls asleep, not moving until Mamatakes him up to bed .

Mother to Psychiatrist
I don't trust nobody now except God. Save yourself a lotof heartache. People tell you they're going to do a lot ofthings; they make big promises that they don't plan t o keep.
I say, when I see it, I'll believe it. I don't get my hopes up.
My mother and father were together until my motherdied. And after Mama died, Daddy never remarried.

66 sinister wisdom #55

I expected my marriage to be like that. I didn't plan for
it to be any other way. I trusted my husband would stay withme, to raise our children. He didn't. He left and left us withno way. I was raising five children alone.
I was mad as hell. But I kept smiling, while inside I didn't
know how I was going to make it alone. I had a new baby,
and three little ones under nine years old . All at once theyneeded so much from me - to be Mama and Daddy and to
explain to them why their father wasn't coming back. What
could they understand? How could I tell them that he gambled
away his paycheck and kept another woman on the side?
Life just stopped making sense . I didn't know who I was
anymore. Everything fell apart.
When it got to be too much, I checked myself into thehospital. Each time I couldn't handle it, I'd put myself inagain. Wasn't much else I could do. Who was going to takecare of five kids unless I was too sick to take care of themmyself? I needed time to think, to pull myself together. I
needed to be taken care of for a while.
Daughter

It wasn't that bad, was it? Mama always put herself in thehospital; no ambulance ever came to take her away. Just before
she would go she would stop cooking, feeding us canned beans
and franks or tuna salad. She looked like she had gone as far as
she could w ithout breaking .
Mama's got a sister who's been in a m ental hospital for
thirty years. They put her there after she stop ped talking . Mama
doesn't really remember her since she was a little girl whenAunt Ella was nearly a grown woman . Aunt Ella got pregnant
and she wasn't married; and this was in th e 1940's. The boy
who got her pregnant got another girl pregnant too . But hecouldn't marry both of them and he married the other girl, eventhough Aunt Ella was high yella and pretty, a mess of red hair,and built like a Coca Cola bottle. Mama says he married theother girl even though she looked like an ape. Aunt Ella had ababy boy. When she was in the hospital after having the baby,

Spring/ Summer 199567

the other girl's mother brought her some cake. Mama said thatcake was full of voodoo, and Aunt Ella shouldn't have eaten it.
She never spoke again.
Mama says men don't want nothing but one thing. Mamasays when she was in the hospital once, a man came in her roomand tried to rape her. Men are dogs. You better not give yourself
up for free. She's got five mouths to feed and a wet ass don't pay
no bills. Mama says don't lay down with no man and only get
up with nothing. She ain't no prostitute - not much difference
though between a prostitute and a married woman. Mamaputs locks on the inside of our bedroom doors. When her
boyfriend visits she makes us lock ourselves in. Says she can't
protect us when she's asleep. Mama says don 't sit on no man'slap, not even your daddy's . And don't wear nightgowns 'cause
you got brothers. Don't 'go down' on a m~n cause you don't
know where they've been. Don't let them suck your breasts;
you can get cancer. Mama always got worse when there wasn't
a man around.
You taught me a lot about men and women growing up,
Mama. You taught me that women had to take a lot of shit
and men were good at passing it out. Like womanhood wassome kind of endurance test, having abuse hurled at you all
the time, dodging, evading, manipulating, hiding, lying,covering up who you really were ...
I don't think that I would have survived this long if I werestraight. I was never good at the games men and womenplay. I thought there was a manual somewhere, that I didn't
get, that decoded the language and expectations of heterosexuality. That could show me how I could love myself andbe with a man.
Listen to me Mama. Look at my life. This is not a tragedy.
Loving women saved me. I know that sounds emotional,
trusting, everything you taught me not to be, but it's also
true.
The love of good women saved me .

•••

68 sinister wisdom #55

I visit Mama in a women's psychiatric hospital on the far
west side of Chicago. I find her sitting alone in the TV room.
The television is bolted high on one wall and she cranes her
neck to one side as she watches the soap operas.
Mama's dressed in brown polyester pan ts with sewn increases and a flowery oversized top . Her head is covered witha tiny yellow cap, pulled down o'O"er her ears. "Been in here aweek and you just now come to visit," she quipped not turning away from the screen.
Mama takes me to her room at the far end of the hall. The
room is small but sunny. The twin beds are covered withbright bedspreads, one yellow, one green. A vase of freshyellow roses sit on the night table between the beds. Mama
goes to the window and pulls the blinds . "My roommate went
home two days ago," she said pointing to the empty bed. "Shewas schizophrenic, you know.""No," I say. "I didn't know." After fifteen years, does mymother's illness have a name?
"1 was afraid to go to sleep at night," Mama continued.
"Thought one of those voices in her head was going to tell her
to kill me. Last night was the first good sleep I've had since
I've been here."
I looked at the empty bed and at Mama. Had the woman
worried that Mama might hurt her? How many nights had I
lain awake terrified that my mother might hurt me?

•••
There were times. Times when I snuggled against her
warm, full woman body, and Mama would hold me, hersmall brown child close and safe. I would have followed her
anywhere. Given anything for one approving look, one nod,
one smile for me.
Before the break/ before the slashing/ before the end.
Now silence. Silence that covers us like a wet, dirty
sheet, its chill unrelenting, clinging to our shivering, naked
bodies.
We circle each other like hungry vultures, teasing out

Spring/ Summer 1995

69

the weaknesses and soft spots, and striking - decisivelywhen we find them.
We have choreographed this dance of missteps, holding
on too tight for too long. The music stopped long ago, but
we continue to dance.
All we have is the dance.
I feel her hot breath on my neck. Her teeth pierce thenbreak my skin. My blood, warm and thick flows quickly andgathers in a pool beneath my feet.
"Don't hurt me, don't hurt me. It's me, Mama," I want toyell, but instead I turn and tear open her chest, plunging mytalons into her weak heart.
We are ravenous for the spoils, but the scattered remains are our own shattered bodies, not the rotting meatof dead prey.
.
There are no safe corners, no shields, no protection for
either of us.

•••
Mama sat on the end of her bed. She wrung her hands
together and worked her mouth in a nervous chewing motion. Her gaze rested on my feet. Those are ni ce shoes," shesaid. "I could use some new shoes." She got up and walked tothe closet. She began to rearrange the few cl o th es she broughtwith her.
"You have to hide your nice underwea r here; anything
you want to keep." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into
the closet. "It's the nurses, they steal anything you don't tie
down. They think you too crazy to notice . But I notice everything. I ain't that crazy. "Mother to Psychiatrist
What would you like me to say doctor - that this is all
my fault? Well, I won't. I won't give you or them the satisfaction.
I'm here because of them. They tell another story I'msure. That I can't stand to be around them? Weill can't. I'drather be here than in that hellhole. Three grown children,

70 sinister wisdom #55

not one lifts a finger to do anything around the house. I
didn't raise them that way. My sons parade their girlfriends
in and outat all hours ofthe night. My baby girl with a baby
herself. My other daughter a lesbian ...
Did they tell you that? What I have to put up with what they put me through?

•••"Why would anyone want to steal your und erwear?" I asked .
Mama ignored me and retrieved a tattered gy m bag from the back of the closet. "I want you to take these things home,"
she ordered as she stuffed random belong in gs into the bag,
earrings, several pair of nylon panties, a pair of house slippers with glass beads stitched on the front.
"Can you imagine there are some things yo u don't know;that I can teach you?" she turns on m e. "It' s th e nurses' aides
that steal. They don't make much money and th ey do most thework - hell, they do all the work. I give them a tip when they
do something for me. Then they are less likely to take yourthings" . She zipped the bag and handed it to me. "I've beenin enough of these places to be the expert, d on' t you think,
Miss Girl?""So what's so important that you can' t co me see yourmother; can't call? Did you break your fin ge rs?"
"It's hard for me Mama, you know that. I ca n' t s tand to bein these places .. ." I started .
"Can't be as hard as being in here," she interrupts. "I'mthe one sick; you need to remember that. "Mother to Psychiatrist
Alii want is to be treated like I matter. Is it too much to
ask that your own children respect you? Did you tell them
how sick I am?
Of course you did. And what did they say?
They didn't bat an eye, did they?
Well, I took care of my mother when she was sick. I had
seven older sisters, but I dropped out of high school to takecare of Mama.

Sprin g/Summer 1995

71

I was glad to take care of my mother. I was a gooddaughter.
Of course my sisters could have done it, but they were
married with children by that time. Should they have left
their children to take care of Mama when I could be athome?
You don't understand do you?
The sacrifices a mother makes. How you put yourself
last, if you think about yourself at all. Of course you don't
understand, you're a man. You only know what it feels liketo be taken care of, first by your mother, then your wife you have a wife don't you? You don't stop to question theorder of things, you just suck up it all up.
Weill would like to suck it all up too. Tell me doctor, what
is it like, always being put first, havin.g somebody always
trying to make it better for you?

•••
Mama shifted uneasily on the bed, leaning closer to me.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled wadof paper. She opened it and smoothed it against her pant leg
and handed it to me. "Was going to throw this away. Did it
this morning in group . Don't see what's so helpful abouttalking to a bunch of strangers about yo ur life. Some things
so private you don't want to share them w ith anybody.""We had to write the ten things that bothered us the most,
why we thought we were in here. " I only go t to four things; I
got depressed and gave up.
I looked at the paper. Across the top, she had wri tten "TheTen Reasons I'm Here" :#1 My daughter is a lesbian#2 My youngest daughter is ha ving a baby
#3 My feet are too big#4 I'm too fat

72 sinister wisdom #55

Mother to Psychiatrist
She thinks she's a lesbian. I don't. I birthed a girl child.
I didn't raise her to be that way. Maybe it was her father's
fault. Theywere really close. When he .left, she nearly got anulcer, started spitting up blood. She was only eight years
old. I told her then she had to learn to walk on her feelings.
Wear them on the bottom of her feet.
But she's a dreamer like her father. I could tell what I was
saying to her wasn't going to make much difference. There
are some people who can't hide what they feel and thosepeople got it hard.
I saw so much of her father in her. I wanted to hold on
to all that was good and fling the rest of it as far away as
possible, the part of her that I knew would take her dreams
away without looking back.
God knows she didn't want any part of my life. She left
to get away from me.
You know these things as a mother. They don't have totell you. I could tell by the way she looked at me. Like
nothing I said was important. How many times have mychildren told me that?
Maybe you can help me figure this out.
How much further from me can she get than by doing
this? Living a life that will take her nowhere? How long will
she punish me for not being a good enough mother?

DaughterMy sister says that I must understand my mother. Shesays that I was the only child my parents planned, wanted.
She asks me, "Do you know how it feels to have something you planned for turn out to be wholly different thanwhat you expected?"
I understand . I am not the planned daughter. Does mymother understand that she is not the mother?

•••Spring/ Summer 1995

73

I stared at the piece of paper. I was afraid to look up .
Afraid of what I might do. I don't remember when I stood up
and walked out. I don't remember saying the things Mama
told my sister I said to her. What I do recall is wishing for thenumber two spot. Instead of being the reason she thinks thewalls close in on her. The reason why she can't keep food
down, why the world seems unmanageable and hostile.
In those few moments, I saw Mama as she was now in her
big flowered blouses, trying to hide her ample body. And I
saw her ten years before, dressing before a date, emptying her
breasts into a 40DD bra, stuffing herself in girdles and control hose, tottering on three inch heels.
She would come home hours later, and release herself
into a cotton nightgown. I would crawl into her bed and fallasleep, leaning against her, comforted by the now faint smellof her perfume.
.
My sister said that I cursed the day I came through mymother's loins. But I only remember the voices that propelled
me toward the outer doors, away from her. Th e loud buzz thatput me on the other side. The humidity that enveloped me as
I staggered from the building. Past the young girls jumping
double dutch, the men hanging out on the corner. I ran all theway to the bus stop, my blouse clinging, dra gging my heavybag. They must have thought I was a mad wo man, stumbling
onto the bus, out of breath, collapsing into a sea t, sobbing.
They must have thought I was completely mad .

74 sinister wisdom #55

Jessica Stein

Chord

Mid-kiSS, she shakes her head . We
disembrace. My life
has a soundtrack, she says .
And when we break up, or
one of us moves away, ordies somewhere, 1'll
hate this song. I kissher eyes, her nose,
finally lips. I love her
for this. I tickle her until
she smiles. The CD hesitates
like a nervous suitor and thenthere is another song, anyway.

Spring/ Summer 1995

75

Joan Annsfire

At Work

afoldt work
the women smile too muchneatly shaven, nylon legs
and speak the languageof silver patterns and matching china.
men move as though
their shoulders were clenched fists,
wax nostalgic on subjects
such as getting drunkand sports involving ballsof various shapes and sizes.
the work day is divided into
carefully measured minutes
marked off like cross-hatches on a jail cell wa ll,
deadlines approach,workers flutter like flocks of industrious birds,
days slip by unnoticed.
I think of Joyce on the AIDS ward
surrounded by the ravages of disease,the urgency of life in its final stages,
stark reality cutting away
the shiny, useless veneersthat wall us off from each other.
I am a visitor from an uncharted planet
I observe their customs and traditions
with the watchful eye and curious ear of an outsider.
I recall the names of each co-worker' s spouse or lover,although my lesbian life
has been filed away like a dirty secret.

76 sinister wisdom #55

I remember when Diane
was in the hospital with Shoshana,
her partner who was dying of cervical cancer.
the nurses permitted Diane to stayat her lover's bedside overnight .
but never once offered her a cpt to sleep on,
as they did for the husbands and boyfriendsof the other women patients,
yet they considered themselves
so liberal, so open-minded,
for allowing her to stay at all.
I want to scream,
to shove my pushy, damn-lesbian's face
into the blank, anonymoo.s abyssof an indifference far worse than hatred;
the uncanny ability toturn the other cheek, avert the gaze;
quiet complicity in the eye ofsomeone else's hurricane.
at work the people smile
hollow, distracted smiles,
discuss tv shows and movie stars,
yet speak most powerfully
with silence.

Spring/Summer 1995

77

Janell Moon

The Deal

The mother sits slumped on the couch
could you, could you
sorry to be such a botherwants a little hot water to warm her fingers
her right hand flutters to her buttons
takes out her full breast
offers suckling to her full-grown daughter
the nipple flat from age
the slit shadowed.
My lover, mesmerized stands locked
staring at her flesh . She smiles at her
mother, asks only does she want a snack.
The mother puts her heavy breast away
asks for something more substantial.
Duckling with plum sauce. Won ton soupwith shrimp. Make only enough for two.
My lover gives me a don't say anything look.
She starts to cook.
I am left remembering my brotherwrapped around my motherthat boy of wild parakeetsnights of wetting, talking rain
violin's high scratching only he could hear.
He'd ponder life the night throughsome sweet monkey smoke coming
through the heating ducts.
I'd ask my mother what do, his faceso flushed and red. She w ould not talkof it. Turned her back, made dinner.

78 sinister wisdom #55

Once again I'm caught, seeing
this mother and the deal.
Don't speak of it; I'll take careof you, if you take care of me.
The promise hovers in the air·covers the house tonight owith brown light
Spiders spin ancient webs.
There is a certain silence.

Room to Expand
AspenSprin g/Summer 1995

79

Wyrda

In the Outhouse
A Maternal Odyssey"S what's your mother like?," my newish lo ver asked.
0,

I cringed, as I always do when asked that question . It's
one I never know how to answer. Do I give her background?
Working-class immigrant from Scotland. Do I describe her?
Short, dark, square. Or do I give a Readers Diges t version of
our relationship history? Even the edited versi on could fill abook and often leaves the listener with the impression that I
hate my mother, or at least that I should.) d on' t hate her. And
I certainly don't encourage my lovers or fri ends to. Lovers
usually end up getting all the various versions over time.
Sally had even talked to Mom on the phone, quite an ord eal,as Mom can talk the ears off corn, especiall y w h en she's
nervous.
Mom had reason to be nervous. This w as the firs t time she
was going to visit me since I'd moved to Orego n . Sally and I
had been lovers for about four months when Mom d ecided tocome down for a concert I was doing . I was ge tting my first"BIG BREAK," opening a show for Jami e Ande rso n. I w as
nervous about the show. Nervous about Mom s tay ing in myamenity-free house. Downright terrified abo ut my moth er
and lover meeting . My brain w as in high gea r goi ng nowhereplaying out "what ifs:" What if th ey hate each o th er a nd Sally
decides I should cut Mom out of my life? (A previous lo ver
had taken that stand .) What if they re all y li ke each other andMom decides to become a dyke and they ru n off together?
(Mom and Sally are closer in age than Sall y and I.) My brain
positively excels at "what ifs. "The day finally arri ved . Sall y was wo r ki ng so I we nt
alone to pick Mom up at the Greyhound s top. I took her to a

80 si nister wisdom #55

local greasy spoon for dinner. There I broke the news that she
would be staying alone at my house. A decision that had costmuch soul searching and a fight with my lover. I explained to
Mom that my house only had room for one p erson, and that
Sally and I had a standing date to sleep together at her houseon Thursdays . Mom was not thrillecl, I don't blame her. Aftermuch discussion, Mom said thitt if I had to ha ve somebody
pissed at me, it was probably better that it b e my mother than
my lover.
I took Mom back to my house. I showed her where the _outhouse was, where the drinking water w as, where thecandles were and how to start the wood stove. Sh e put a goodface on it. She said it would be sort of fun , like camping out.
We then went on the grand tour of "woman' s land ." Mom was
impressed that the main house had a real propan e stove, as
opposed to my two burner camp stove. We we nt over to myland mates' house for tea. As expected, Mom we nt into overdrive chatter mode. When Mom is doing binge talking, no
one can get a word in. She doesn' t even hear th e "Yes, buts,"or "Well, I thinks." Even exceptional conversa tionalists give
up in awe of her ability to Mom-ologue . After ex hausting myland mates, I took her back to my house and left her to settle
herself while I went to keep my date with Sally.
The next day, Sally was off work. We had planned to pick
Mom up and take her to visit a friend who run s an RV park forgays and lesbians. Off we went to pick Mom up and see how
she had survived her first night "campin g out" at my house.
"You didn't leave me enough kindlin g," "ve re the w ords
she greeted me with . I had also forgott en to show her where
the hatchet w as and some animal, she th ou ght a bear, I figured a raccoon, had kept her awake all night climbing aroundon the roof. After I introduced her to Sally, s he reminded methat I hadn't show n her how to use the camp stove. She
wanted coffee, NOW. That taken care of and my daughterly
guilt firmly in place, we went down the road to see Ann . Mom
really liked Ann and the RV park. In fact , s he said that if sheever came back to visit, she wanted to stay there.

Sprin g/ Summer 1995

81

That night I was again staying with Sally. Sh e and I talked
about her difficulty relating to my mother. Sall y became
acutely uncomfortable around people who are graphic aboutbody functions, particularly "bathroom talk ." She was having a hard time with my mother's free use of the word "shit,"
as well as her constant talking. In fact, it was my mother's useof the phrase "Diarrhea of the mouth" that had brought the
subject up. I was not terribly sympathetic. I wa s also practicing not defending either of them to the other, a sanity-saving
decision .
The next day was the concert. Sally and I picked Mom up
from my house. She still hadn' t figured out how to use thecamp stove. I made her coffee and we w ent for a drive. Mom
had said that she wanted to see the Umpqua ri ver. We meandered along back roads on the way to Roseburg . Mom wasapparently still nervous, the monologue continued . She wastelling the story of her encounter with the outh ouse. (At least
Mom was willing to use it. One land ma te's m other had comefor a three-day visit and went to tow n, twelve miles away,when she needed to go.) "So, there I was, look in g down into
this deep, dark, smelly hole. Telling myself to thin k of it as anadventure . Telling myself that compared to mos t of humanhistory, this was 'hi tech.' I looked out the open sid es of thething and tried to enjoy the view, all the while thinking thatanyone walking by could see me doing my bu siness."
You have to remember tha t my mother is from Scotland.
There is still a trace of a brogue in her voice, w hich to m e justadded to the incongruity of her story. I noticed th at Sally did
not seem to be sharing my amusement. She was visibly tensing with each graphic and w ell-turned phrase. Mo m m ay talka lot, and she might be consid ered crud e by some, but bydamn, she can tell a story. "So there I w as, w ith my ass h anging out for god and everybody to see. Th e shit was hanging
out my bum, and it would not let go! 'Fall in alread y. Don' t
just hang there!' " Mom then starts to a nthropom orphize likemad. Giving a very good rend itio n of w hat sh it wo uld say inthat situation. 'fiNo, no, please do n' t m ake m e go into th at

82 sinister wisdom #55

terrible place.'" I'm having hysterics in the back seat. Sally is
staring fixedly ahead, white-knuckling the s teering wheel.
Mom is on a roll and is paying no attention to either of us. "I
wiggled, I shook, I bounced up and down. I had visions ofbeing trapped there forever. You would have had to dig a new
shitter and make me into a monument. 'THE MOTHER WHO
COULDN'T GO!'"At that point, I noticed that Sally had scrunched down so
far into the front seat that she could hardly see over the dash.
I figured Mom's story was good for at lea s t another five hundred words. What to do? Interrupt in ord er to save mygirlfriend from terminal embarrassment, or ig nore Sally's
discomfort and just be glad Mom could kee p her sense ofhumor about her "exposure" to my lifestyle? I finally decidedtc;> turn it over to whatever higher power d eal s with lovers,
mothers and shit. I sat back and enjoyed the res t of the story.

Roxann Burger

Spring/ Summer 1995

83

Helen Porter

two untitled poems

Moonlight begins to dance on a carpet of verdant moss
as dusk fades into night.
Reclining, eyes closed, I see the negative ima ge of the trees
silhouetted against the raven sky.
I lie remembering, questioning, defending and wondering .
The metronomic cadence of the crickets blend s withmy soft breathing as time merges with the darkness.
Cool mists stealthily encroach, muting the land scape, blunting
the sharp contours, soothing my mind.
Sleep encompasses .

Pain begets pain
Pain relieves pain
Adjust the emphasis
Bloated, decayed, noxio us wa nd erings
Burst to the surface
Misshapen beyond recog nition
Forgetting is not impervious
Thoughts sweat through84 sinister wisdom #55

Helen Porter

The Bewilderbeast

Manifold impressions, daily consequences.
Multiplicity and confusion.
Perception of the actual?
Interpretations.
Reality's clash with desire.
Choice?
Situational colors regurgitated,
Ambiguous shades.
I am the Bewilderbeast.

Spring/Summer 1995

85

Caryatis Cardea

falling trees

did you ever think
it would corne to thisso there we weretalking about community
lesbian communities
let's imagine one-i said
all our differences to resolve
barriers to overcome
food and families and tastes in music
what about battery i asked
can a dyke find asylumin this ideal world we're dreamingfrom an abuser who is also a dyke
damn
did you ever think
we would corne to say these things
that lesbians would need refuge
from other lesbians
but we do and i know thisi am a lesbian and this is my life
someone elsein her own disbelief
said
but how will we know
i mean is there a list
can we just believe a lesbian was batteredonly because she says so

86 sinister wisdom #55

did you ever think we would come to thisthat we would not believe a lesbian
how can we not believe her
when she says so
i never dreamed it would ·come to thisand then at the magazine
it's time we said
to do an issue on ethics
the ethical challenges lesbians face
and we began to talkabout lies and cheating and break-ups
and other travesties we bring to each otherlike battery
someone said
and i felt strengthened
someone besides me had raised the issue
like what happens she went on
when a dyke is accusedof battering another dyke
i mean is she branded for life
just for one act
when does the ostracism end
and suppose it isn't true
what happens to those lesbians
i never thought we would come to thisdid you
did you think we'd have to make our communities
safe for batterers
did you evertheir victims hide and whisper
they don't appear in public
or in phone books
lesbians say get over it
put it behind you
stop telling about it
don't tellSpring/Summer 1995

but i have to tell you
i ama lesbian and thisis my life
the patriarchy lives
you knowthe patriarchy lives here
it lives here inside
it lives inside our communities
inside our relationships
here in our bodies and our minds
inside our hearts and inside our spirits
i never knew it would come to thisdid you know
we've been trained all our lives
for this silence
don't tell
don't ever tell
who would believe you
everyone knows girls lie
no one will believe
no one will believe youa mere child and female at thatand no one did believe
not parents or neighbors
or teachers or friends
sometimes not your own self
and now not even lesbians
did you ever think it would come to thisdid ydu imagine we would be silent
to someone saying i am a lesbianlisten to my life
did you imagine
the patriarchy lives
if anything so dead

87

88

si nister wisdom #55

can be said to live it lives
and brings deathwith the suffocating
stillness of the things we don't telland the stifling suffocation of the things
we won't believe
silence kills they say
and even while resisting
the allusion to ability
i know what they mean
not voices or ears or what we say or in what language
but what we tell however we tell it
and what we understand and how they stop us
before we startand how we stop each other for themsilence kills lesbians for the patriarchy
i never thought it would come to thisi never
imagined
we have to tell
and we have to ask
ask me and i'll tell you
i am a lesbian and this is my life
did you ever imagine thisthat here in the world we builtwith our own breathand fire
where we live so close
your wounds make my wounds
bleed
did you ever think .
that here too the rule would apply
don't tell
bad things happen if you tell
suppose you misunderstoodSpring/Summer 1995

you could harm someone innocent
and what was your part in it anyway
did you ever think
it would come to thisthe damage was done to our bodies
we know thisand to our trust and our sexuality
but also our belief in the reality we perceived
and our sense of honor and our self-esteem
and the damage is held in place by silence
we cannot rid ourselves of it because
it is only real when we tell it and
we are believed
our wounds are held open
by silence
did you ever think it would cometo thisi never did
as a community
lesbians seem to say
we can't know about itthat thing we call incestthat which is rape and torture
forced prostitution and entrapment
which twists the minds of girls
into man-made shapesthat which happens in the homeat the time the whole world that matters
to us as children
did you ever thinkso we make our own homes
in lesbian nationand it is the whole of the worldthat matters to us
as dykes89

90 sinister wisdom #55

but here also
no one listensand no one believes
did you ever think
it would cometo thisdid you
and we can't know about lesbian battery
because dykes don't do thatand you can't let someone
control your feelings
and we're all doing the best we canand suppose she goes to meetings
and to therapy and gets betterthat would make it OK wouldn't itthen you could stop telling
couldn't you
stop telling
couldn't youstop
i never thought
did you ever think
it would come to thisif she can put it behind her
why can't you
did you ever think we would come to saythese things
did you think it would come to thisto thisthis message
that battery isn't ripping apartour communities
but telling about it is
don't ever tell
don't tellSpring/ Summer 1995

and memories of daughter-rape aren't gutting
our relationships
but telling about them is
don't tell
can you imagine that we have corne to thisis there a list
and what about false accusations
did you ever think this would cornethat we would seek asylum
from the truth of our lives
who will protect us
we want to know
who will guard us against lying females
did you ever
ever think
did you think it would corne to thisif a tree falls in the forest
and there's no one there to hear itit still makes a soundheard a t leas t
by other trees

when a lesbian speaks in the patriarchy
and no lesbian is there for her
she makes a soundindecipherable to anyone else on the planet
we are never more real
than thiswhen we are known to other lesbians
did you ever think
did youbreak the spelltell
we are never more real than this91

92 sinister wisdom #55

tell
and keep telling
until lesbians listenbring it up over dinnerand on line at the movies
tell and keep telling
spray it in graffiti
fashion it into a drum
make it the part of our lives
that it iscould we ever have known it would cometo thismore of us have lived thisthan nothow can we be silent
i never thought
did you thinkmake it a vow
make it a promise
if a dyke speaks in the patriarchy
i will be there to catch her sounds
if i am not there to catch her
she falls
if a dyke falls in the patriarchy
the silence will topple
us alldid you ever think it would cometo thismake it a refrain
make it a chantspeak lesbian truth in the patriarchy
and let the goddam patriarchy fall without a soundSpring/Summer 1995

93

make it an assurance
a solemn oathi will ask and keep listening
i will tell and keep tellingfrom pen to paper
hand to handfrom a life to a lesbian life
how could we have known it would come to this
could you have imagined it wouldfrom my lips to your ears
from one dyke to anotheri am a lesbian
and this is my life
i am a lesbian
and this is
my life

94

sinister wisdom #55

Contributors' Notes ____________

Ali Liebegott is a disheveled dyke diner waitress poet who
recently moved to New York from San Francisco and is trying
to save enough money to get back. She has three chapbooksof poetry, The Daze of My Life, No-Pink Bows and I Never Promised
You An Opium Den.
Amy Edgington - I am a white, disabled Lesbian artist andwriter, living in the South. My work has previously been published in Sinister Wisdom (#39 on Disability), Heresies #25,
Garden Variety Dykes (HerBooks, 1994), Sister/Stranger (Sidewalk
Revolution Press, 1993) and in other journals and anthologies.
Annette DuBois was born in New England and came to San
Francisco by way of Oberlin College and the University ofMichigan, Ann Arbor, where she studied mathematics before
realizing what she really wanted to be when she grew up.
Aspen - I am fat, forty and disabled, enjoying life withlesbians. I am white, educated, raised by "aspiring" workingclass parents.
Billie Miracle - I am 51 years old and have lived on women's
land in southern Oregon for twenty years. I am an art teacher
and illustrator. I paint in acrylics and make block prints.
Caryatis Cardea is the fourth of nine Irish-Catholic/FrenchCanadian children of working-class parents. She is fortyfour, disabled, vegetarian, separatist, and believes that life isessentially a tragedy with a laugh track.
Deborah A. Elliston is a lesbian feminist writer based in New
York City. She is also a Ph.D. student in feminist anthropology, studying non-Western societies in part for visions of
how to change her own. In 1995, she'll be living in French
Polynesia doing her dissertation research. She was recently
married to her lover, Linda Daniels, to whom most of her
poetry is dedicated.

Spring/Summer 1995

95

Ekua Omosupe is a professor of English at Cabrillo College
in Aptos, CA. She teaches writing, Women's Studies andAmerican Lit. Ekua lives in Santa Cruz. She is a single motherfor three children and is a business woman. She and partner,
Maria Davila, are co-owners of an ethnic jewelry, arts andcrafts business known as MAKUA PRODUCTIONS.
Elissa G. Perry is a San Francisco-based fiction writer, student and Jane of all trades, originally from St. Louis, MO. Her
work can be found in the anthologies, Girlfriends Number One
and Beyond Definition as well as a variety of magazines andnewspapers both local and nationally.
Erika Feigenbaum - Ms. Feigenbaum is currently completing her undergraduate degree at Cleveland State University,and her work has appeared in The Creative Woman and The
Hiram Poetry Review.
Gloria Yamato writes poetry, short stories and literary hybrids . Her work has appeared in Making Face, Making Soul:
Race, Class and Gender and Raging Muse. A collection of her
short stories will be included in New Voices I, published by
Aunt Lute Books, Spring 1995. Gloria lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Helen Porter my two cats.

I am a lesbian writer living in Oakland with

Janell Moon lives and writes in San Francisco. Her poetry has
appeared in dozens of journals across the United States. Last
year she won awards for her poems in the National Poetry
Competition, the Billie Murry Denny Poetry Contest, and theS.S. Callope Poetry Contest. She published a chapbook, Woman
With a Cleaver. She IS a graduate of Ohio University and has a
private practice as a hypnotherapist. She teaches counselingclasses at the College of Marin. She is co-founder of a San
Francisco women's art and writing salon, Sunday's Child.
Jessica Stein is a transplanted poet itching for Manhattan.
She is shocked that two of her favorite people have turnedeight and six, respectively, and that she is finally eighteen.

96 sinister wisdom #55

She has had work published previously in Sinister Wisdom#54 and Hanging Loose magazine. A proud feminist, she is atleast as beautiful as any boy/or helicopter.
Joan Annsfire is a lesbian poet who lives in Berkeley, California.
Judith Witherow is a Native American. She is a fifty year old
Lesbian feminist writer, artist and community activist. She has
lived with her partner Sue for"the past eighteen years. Together they have raised three children and numerous animals.
Kleya Forte-Escamilla is the author of Daughter of the Mountain(Aunt Lute), Mada (Sistervision) and The Storyteller With Nike Airs (Aunt Lute). She is an Astraea award-winner for 1993, abilingual Chicana writer living in Santa Cruz, California.
Lanie Maeda is a Japanese Lesbian Feminist doing her workin the Bay Area. She would rather be destroying pornographers.
Leslie F. Levy is an attorney, specializing in issues of violenceagainst womyn. At other times, she does photography andvolunteers, helping injured seals heal and return to the wild.
Lisa Manning grew up in North Carolina and has lived in San
Francisco for over fifteen years. She is a clerk in a specialty
print shop. She writes poetry and short fiction. Her work has
been published in a variety of journals and anthologies.
Lyn Davis is a lesbian terrorist who dons state worker disguise five days a week. In the evenings and on weekends, shewrites poetry and autobiographical short fiction. She is lucky
enough to live in Tallahassee, Florida, where she revels in thelove of Leona and their two sons.
Marg-Adele Norrington - I was born 50 years ago. For 50 of
those years, I have loved various women, usually silently andfrom a distance. Arthritis and cancer do provide different
lenses to view women. Sharon is the woman I have lived withfor 12 years. We have 2 dogs, a heroic border collie and an
epileptic mutt. We also have 2 cats, one over 16, and one whocame in and decided to be a domestic cat, after being a feral
cat for about six months. We do have a recuperating hen, thatthe border collie rescued from the fox, living in the basement.

Spring/Summer 1995

97

Peni Hall is a visual artist, video producer and technical coordinator for theater and video who resides in Berkeley, CA. Since
1985, she has worked as Technical Coordinator and has been aperformer with WRY CRIPS Disabled Women's Theater.
R. Amy Elman teaches politics and women's studies at
Kalamazoo College in Michigan. Her forthcoming book, Sexual
Subordination and State Intervention, explores sexual abuse andviolence against women in Sweden and the United States(Berghahn Books, 1995).
Roxann Burger is an artist living in Washington state.
Sauda Burch is a thirty four year old Black lesbian writer andactivist originally from Chicago. She has lived in Oakland
for seven years and is currently at work on her first novel.
Sudie Rakusin - My path turned inward last year and it wasa deep time. My work these days see.ms to be pure exploration. It has taken me through several media moving into
three-dimensions. I am slowly getting to enjoy not knowing
where all this is headed. I live in the woods with my three dog
companions, putting my trust in the universe to bring me
what I need to learn the lessons of my soul.
Sue Lenaerts - Long-time activist and openly lesbian commissioner for her local Maryland County. Partner and photographer of author Judith Witherow since 1976.
Wyrda - I am a working class, white lesbian born and raisedin San Francisco. I have lived in Oregon for the past six years
and find it more suited to my vision. I am a thirty-three-yearold redhead with green eyes and an attitude of joyous irreverence. My friends put up with being material because I
make them laugh.
Xochipala Maes Valdez - I am a Chicana writer / artist/ performer whose family has been rooted in Southwest soils as
far back as our conscious memory takes us . My creative process is a way for me to remember what lives in my unconscious memory as it has been passed to me through the bloodof my peoples. My work is a tribute to my ancestors.

98 sinister wisdom #55

Books Received ____________________________
About the Books Received List: We list (almost) all the books we
get in the mail. Unfortunately, we never have room to review
everything we think we should. I tend to list books here bybooks/ authors/presses I think are important (although all books
from one press are listed together), with an emphasis on lesbianowned presses. If I've read all or part of a book I may add
subjective qualifiers like "read this." While the presence ofadjectives can be interpreted as editorial endorsement, the ab- sence of them only means I'm going by the publisher's press
release. Many of the most compelling books are corning out of
Canada from Press Gang, Women's Press, Gynergy and Gallerie- make sure your local bookstore carries them. - Elana

Resist! essays against a homophobic culture - is the most diverse (byrace, class, ability), interesting looking collection to show up
this season, with 23 dyke and bi contributors, mostly Canadian,edited by Mona Oikawa, Dionne Falconer, Ann Decter. 1994,$14.95 (CND), Women's Press, 517 College St., Ste. 233, Toronto,
Ont., Canada M6G 4A2.
The Colours of Heroines - just scanning this poetry makes mewant to spend the day with Lydia Kwa's first collection of strong,
imaginative, multi-layered poetry - check it out. 1994, $11.95(CND), Women's Press.
Fat Girl Dances With Rocks - a teendyke corning of age story is thecore of this eagerly awaited, wonderful first novel, by Susan
Stinson. 1994, $10.95, Spinsters Ink, POB 300170, Minneapolis,
MN 55403-5170.
The Lessons - rookie and veteran hunt a serial rapist who specializes in dykes, by police officer Melanie McAllester. 1994,$9.95, Spinsters Ink.
Mother Journeys: Feminists Write about Mothering - an interesting
gathering of lesbian & straight writers from Rita Dove to Marilyn
Hacker explore their mother stuff, edited by Maureen T. Reddy,
Martha Roth and Amy Sheldon. 1994, $15.95, Spinsters Ink.
Belly Dancer - new stories from the co-editor of Telling It: Womenand Language Across Cultures, SKY Lee. 1994, $16.95 (CND), Press
Gang, 101-225 E. 17th Ave., Vancouver, B.C., Canada V5V lA6.

Spring/Summer 199599

Now Poof She Is Gone - Native American writer Wendy Rose has
published ten books, but this is a collection of the "me" poems
she held back, exploring violence, dislocation, mixed-blood pain.
1994, $8.95, Firebrand, 141 The Commons, Ithaca, NY 14850.
Stardust Bound - speculative (science) fiction with an ecologicalbent and a dyke hero. 1994, $8.95, Firebrand.
Sister Safety Pin - a punk lesbian novel with attitude fromfunny, sharp SW contributor, Lorrie Sprecher. 1994, $9.95, Firebrand.
Another Wilderness: New Outdoor Writing by Women - 23 contributors tell physical, spiritual and trans formative stories in thisdy ke-spirited collection, edited by Susan Fox Rogers. 1994, $14.95,
Seal Press, 3131 Western Ave., #410, Seattle, WA 98121.
A Small Sacrifice - the fifth Jane Lawless mystery, a strong entry
in that genre from Ellen Hart. 1994, $20.95 (cloth), Seal Press.
Lover's Choices - a reprint of Becky Birtha's excellent second
book of short stories . 1994, $10.95, Seal Press.
The Second Coming of Joan of Arc and othet plays - Sinister Wisdom
first published "The Second Coming .. ." in #35, and it's brilliant work, by Caroline Gage. 1994, $10, HerBooks, POB 7467,
Santa Cruz, CA 95061.
Shedding and Literally Dreaming - three decades of writing by the
influential German feminist, Verena Stefan, compared in importance to Wittig, Rich and Brown in the press release, afterword
by Tobe Levin. 1994, $14.95, The Feminist Press, 311 E. 94 St., NY,
NY 10128.
Cactus Love - a new collection of old fashioned dyke stories from
Lee Lynch. 1994, $9.95, Naiad, POB 10543, Tallahassee, FL 32302.
Second Guess - the second Amanda Valentine mystery, set in
New Zealand, by Rose Beecham. 1994, $9.95, Naiad.
The Sure Thing - earthquakes, racism, TV, the Rodney King riotsand love, by Melissa Hartman. 1994, $9 .95, Naiad.
Body Guard - the sixth Carol Ashton mystery, a political thriller
set in Australia, by Claire McNab. 1994, $9.95, Naiad.
Painted Moon - artist and architect trapped in a mountain snowstorm, by Karin Kallmaker. 1994, $9 .95, Naiad.
The Mysterious Naiad - Love Stories by Naiad Press Authors, 20of them, edited by Katherine V. Forrest and Barbara Grier. 1994,$14.95, Naiad.

100 sinister wisdom #55

Curious Wine - read by Jane Merrow, a two-tape version of the
popular romantic novel by Katherine V. Forrest. 1994, Naiad.

Ghost Motel - a first lesbian mystery from accomplished fiction
writer Jackie Manthorne. 1994, $9.95, Gynergy Books, POB 2023,
Charlottetown, P.E.I., Canada, CIA 7N7.
.
Skin Deep: Women Writing on Color, Culture and Identity - an important, varied, deep collection of.over 50 women's work (straightand lesbian), by Elena Featherston. 1994, $14.95, Crossing, POB
1048, Freedom, CA 95019.
Out of the Class Closet: Lesbians Speak - 35 dykes fill 478 pages
with a wide range of class perspectives - an important collec- tion that draws you in, edited by Julia Penelope. 1994, $16.95,
Crossing.
Quite Mad and Other Works - a picture book for grown-ups, by
Molly Barker. 1994, $10.95, Crossing.
Voices Under One Sky: Contemporary Native Literature - 44 contributors, half are women, some lesbians, representing a broad
spectrum of work being done on Turtle Island, edited by Trish
Fox Roman. 1994, $12.95, Crossing.
Feminist Parenting: Struggles, Triumphs & Comic Interludes - many
women and a few men, roughly 1/3 dykes, give their views,
edited by Dena Taylor. 1994, $14.95, Crossing.
o Mother Sun! A New View of the Cosmic Feminine - turning around"the Apollo conspiracy" with a very world-wide awareness, by
Patricia Monaghan. 1994, $12.95, Crossing.

Creating Circles of Power & Magic : A Woman's Guide to Sacred Community - a fairly straight do-it-yourself guide to Wiccan andrelated practice, by Caitlin Libera. 1994, $12.95, Crossing.
The Good Vibrations Guide to Sex - sqmething for everyone in thissupermarket catalog of sexual possibilities, "style" and hardware - fun marketed as feminism, by Cathy Winks and Anne
Semans. 1994, $16.95, Cleis, POB 8933, Pittsburgh, PA 15221.
Public Sex: The Culture of Radical Sex - essays on maintaining a
defiant stance, by bisexual Pat Califia. 1994, $12.95, Cleis.
The Case of the Good-For-Nothing Girlfriend - a parody of many
facets of the mystery genre, from Nancy Drew to Naiad staples,
set in a very dykey world, by Mabel Maney. 1994, $10.95, Cleis.

Spring/Summer 1995

101

Putting Out: The Essential Publishing Resource for Lesbian and Gay
Writers, 3rd Edition - over 500 places to send your work, editedby Edisol W. Dotson. 1994, $12.95, Cleis.
A Taste of Lemon - lesbian inquiries into love and being, poemsby abuse survivor Jane Oxley. 1994, $8.95, Vantage Press, 516 W.
34th St., NY, NY 10001.
Other Words For Grace - a coming-of-age exploration, pushing
the boundaries of language in poetic forms, fascinating work by
Margaret Christakos. 1994, $11.95, Mercury, 137 Birmingham St.,
Stratford, Ont., Canada N5A 2T1.
The Black Diamond Ring - interesting straight feminist shortstories, by Patricia Seaman. 1994, $14.50, Mercury.
Gestures of Genius: Women , Dance, and the Body - examines theplace of dance in the history of women through essays andinterviews with a wide variety of dancers, by Rachel Vigier.
1994, $16.95, Mercury.
Natalie on the Street - the journal! story of a friendship formed
with an old homeless woman, by Ann Nietzke. 1994, $14.95,
Calyx Books, POB B, Corvallis, OR 97339 .
The Homophobic Healer: A Primer for Gays, Lesbians and the Families
and Friends Who Love Them - a very god-based, recovery-speak
text, by Sandra St. John. $8.95, 1994, The Goddess Express, 6860
Gulfport Blvd. S., #920, St. Petersburg, FL 33707.
The Menopause Industry: How the Medical Establishment Exploits
Women - an important expose of hype and hardsell, encourages
trusting our own bodies, by Sandra Coney. 1994, Hunter House,
POB 2914, Alameda, CA 94501-0914 .
Lesbian Choices - a dyke philosopher examines how we construct identity and social relationships, how we frame our ethical dilemmas, by Claudia Card. 1994, $29.95 (cloth), Columbia
Univ. Press, 562 W. 113th St., NY, NY 10025.
Adventures in Lesbian Philosophy -18 dykes address ethics & eros,
love & justice from a generally academic perspective, edited by
Claudia Card. 1994, Indiana Univ. Press, Bloomington, IN . .
The Waiting List: An Iraqi Woman's Tales of Alienation - shortstories by a "single, educated woman" set against the background of the Lebanese Civil War, by Daisy AI-Amir, translatedby Barbara Parmenter. 1995, $8.95, Univ. of Texas Press, POB
7819, Austin, TX 78713-7819 .

102 sinister wisdom #55

Giving Voice to Stones: Place and Identity in Palestinian Literature a blend of "cultural geography and literary analysis .. . on the
struggle between Palestinians and Israelis over a land that both
divides them and brings them together." 1994, $9.95, Univ. of
Texas Press .
People of the Noatak - a reprint of the early' 60s illustrated journal
about "life among the Inupiat" qy a white woman who appears
to have been respectful and respected, by Claire Fejes. 1994,$15.95, Volcano Press, POB 270, Volcano, CA 95689 .
Prejudice and Pride: Lesbian and Gay Traditions in America - a special issue of the New York Folklore magazine, with half lesbian content. 1994, $12.95, New York Folklore, SUNY, 735 Anderson
Hill Rd., Purchase, NY 10577.

The Next Step: Lesbians in Long-Term Recovery, Out From Under
Volume 2 - 18 dykes dealing with addictions, edited by Jean
Swallow. 1994, $9.95, Alyson, 40 Plympton St., Boston, MA 02118.
Amnesty - a first novel exploring intimacy and childhood, byLouise A. Blum. 1995, $19 .95 (cloth), Alyson.
One Teacher in 10: Gay and lesbian educators tell their stories - a few
more men than womyn tell their stories in this resource, editedby Kevin Jennings. 1994, $9 .95, Alyson.
Sister Stew - multicultural fiction and poetry by 49 women
writers, many based in Hawaii. 1991, $10, Bamboo Ridge, POB
61781, Honolulu, HI 96839-1781.
Lesbiot: Israeli Lesbians Tell Their Stories - a remarkable collectionof 21 oral histories taken and coordinated by Tracy Moore andedited by 19 other lesbians, reflecting a deep community involvement among both Israeli and U.s. dykes . 1995, $16.95,
Cassell, 387 Park Ave. S., NY, NY ~0016.
Daring to Dissent: Lesbian Culture from Margin to Mainstream - U.s.
and British dykes write essays on creativity and the media,
edited by Liz Gibbs. 1994, $15.95, Cassell.

Spring/Summer 1995

103_____ Announcements and Classified Ads
PUBLICATIONSCONMOCION, revlsta y red revolucionaria de lesbianas latinas, a
new national publication with 100% Latina lesbian vision,seeks writings and art by Latina lesbians in Spanish, English
or Spanglish, any form. Subs: $13 for 3. Info: 1521 Alton Road
#336, Miami Beach, FL 33139.
ESTO NO TIENE NOMBRE, revista de lesbianas latin as en
miami, is a forum for latina lesbians with a Miami twist.
Open to all forms (Spanish, Spanglish, English), $10 per year
(checks to: Tatiana de la Tierra). Guidelines, subs to: 4700 NW
7th St. #463, Miami, FL 33126.
MAIZE, A Lesbian Country Magazine. Land dyke networking since 1983. Sub: $10/4 issues. Single issue $3.50. MAIZE,POB 130, Serafina, NM 87569.
WE ARE HERE - national resource guide for lesbian and gay
youth, by Gay Youth Comm. Coalition of the Bay Area, $5 (payto We Are Here) from: 2215 Market St., #479, SF, CA 94114.
TEEN VOICES - by, for & about teenage and young adultwomen, sample $2: Women Express, POB 6009 JFK, Boston,
MA 02114.
DYKE REVIEW MAGAZINE - "We don't judge it, we justpublish it." Looking for features writers from your area; all
publishable forms of dyke expression. Call 415-621-3769 or
write: 584 Castro St., Ste. 456, SF, CA 94114.
LESBIAN CONTRADICTION seeks non-fiction from women
who've experienced the Far Right around lesbian/gay &women's issues. Ongoing column. LesCon, 584 Castro St.,
Ste. 356, SF, CA 94114.
SHORT FICTION BY WOMEN, new guidelines available SASE to: Rachel Whalen, ed., Box 1276, Stuyvesant Sta., NY,
NY 10009.
VAMPIRE JOURNALS, a new lesbian & bisexual quarterly,seeks writers and readers. Send SASE for guidelines, info to:
The Queen, P.O.B. 681, San Leandro, CA 94577.

104 sinister wisdom #55

VIRAGO, a new quarterly for lesbian veterans, seeks all formsof writing . Queries: POB 1171, New Market, VA 22844.
CALLS FOR SUBMISSIONSBLACK LESBIANS' COMING OUT STORIES - all forms
for anthology. Send to Lisa Moore, POB 861, Decatur, GA
30031. Deadline: June 30, 1995 . •Lesbian couple constructing anthology based on FIRST-TIME
EXPERIENCES OF LESBIANS. Interested? Write for info:
POB 458, Monroe, MI 48161.
QUEER WOMEN ABUSED BY WOMEN - an anthology ofwritings about lesbian date rape/sexual assault, lesbian battering, and special emphasis on childhood sexual abuse by female
perpetrators. Deadline: June 1995. 5-7 pages. Send w / SASE to
Tamar Avishur, Anthropology UCSC - Women's Center,
Santa Cruz, CA 95064. Please no calls. Will send response card.
BLUE COLLAR, WORKING CLASS AND POOR LESBIANS'
identity anthology: who decides who's a lesbian? What a real
lesbian looks, acts, sounds like? What we call ourselves? For
info, send SASE to: POB 8939, Minneapolis, MN 55408.
QUEERS R US: anthology of ephemera - 'zinework, posters,
fliers, newsletters - that deserve a bigger audience . Materialand queries to: D. Gould, 4646 N . Winchester Ave., #2, Chicago,
IL 60640. E-mail: erand@bates.edu. Deadline: May I, 1995.
BLACK LESBIAN CULTURE: PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE let's be honest and claim ALL we are, have been and will be
for centuries! For guidelines, info: SASE to Terri Jewell, POB
23154, Lansing, MI 48909, running deadline.
RIPENING LESBIANS, an anthology, seeks all forms fromall dykes on growing older. Queries, submissions w /SASE to
Tirzah Gerstein, 85 Newbury St., Hartford, CT 06114.
LESBIANS' RELATIONSHIPS WITH MEN - good and bad,sought for anthology. Women's Press, #233-517 College St.,
Toronto, Ont. M6G 4A2, Canada. Deadline: June 30, 1995.
RISING TIDE PRESS, a new lesbian publisher, seeks fulllength lesbian novels. For guidelines, send SASE to: Rising
Tide Press, 5 Kivy St., Huntington Station, NY 11746.

Spring/Summer 1995

105

DISABLED WOMYN'S WRITING - "dykes, two-spirited, bisexual or transgendered" - particularly work by w omyn ofcolour - sought for anthology edited by Shelley Tremain,
Women's Press, #233-517 College St., Toronto, On t. M6G
4A2, Canada. Deadline: May IS, 1995.
SPINSTERS INK is seeking feminist writing by women ofcolor - novels and non-fiction works. For more info: POB
300170, Dept. C, Minneapolis, MN 55403, (612) 377-0287.
EVENTS/ORGANIZING/CONFERENCES/RETREATSWOMEN'S MOVEMENTS; CULTURAL, INTELLECTUAL
AND POLITICAL (R)EVOLUTIONS - 16th Annual National
Women's Studies Association Conference, June 21-25, 1995,
Univ. of Wyoming. Info: NWSA '95, Women's Studies, Ross
Hall 405, UW, Laramie, WY 82071, E-mail: WMST@UWYO.edu.
"COMPLICATING CATEGORIES: WOMEN, GENDER AND
DIFFERENCE," 10th Berkshire Conference on the History of
Women, June 7-9, 1995. Write for info: 1430 Mass. Ave., Cambridge, MA 02138.
PREVENTION OF HETEROSEXISM AND HOMOPHOBIA- put on by The Vermont Conference on Primary Prevention,Inc., June 14-17, 1995. For info: UVM Conferences, att: VCPPP,
30 S. Park Dr., Colchester, VT 05446, 800-639-3188.
WOMEN LEADING: TODAY AND TOMORROW, national
conference for college women student leaders, June 8-10,
Washington, DC. Info: NAWE, Ste. 210, 1325 18th St. NW,
Washington, DC 20036
THE LIFE AND LEADERSHIP OF ELIZABETH CADYSTANTON: A Centennial Celebration of The Woman's Bible,
keynote by Gerda Lerner, Oct. 6-8, 1995. Info: V. Fowler, Dept.
of Religion, Columbia College, 1301 Columbia College Dr.,
Columbia, SC 29203.
GAY AND LESBIAN PARENTS COALITION INTERNATIONAL 16th annual conference, June 30-July 3, 1995, at the
University of California at Los A nge le s. D e tai ls fr om
GLPCI' 95, 7985 Santa Monica Blvd., Box 109-346, West Hollywood, CA 90046.

106 sinister wisdom #55

THE FATE OF FEMINISM: IS THERE A NEXT GENERATION? S. Conn. State Univ. 5th Annual Women's Studies
Conference, Sept. 30-0ct. 1, 1995. Info: V. Neverow, Women'sStudies, SCSU, 501 Crescent St., New Haven, CT 06515, Email: neverow@scsud.ctstateu.edu.
LESBIAN NATURAL RESOURCES (LNR) is a new organization dedicated to developing rural lesbian community, providing grants & assistance with land purchase, establishingland trusts, tax exemption & land skills. Emphasis on making
this resource available to lesbians of color. For more info, _write: POB 8742, Minneapolis, MN 55408-0742.
GAY & LESBIAN BUS TO OVETT, MISSISSIPPI, May 26-30.
A work and demonstration weekend at Camp Sister Spirit.
Call or fax Wanda & Brenda Henson at (601) 344-1411 for info.
OLOC - Old Lesbians Organizing for Change helps form
new groups of lesbians over 60, provides ageism education,
stimulates existing groups to confront ageism. OLOe, POB
980422, Houston, TX 77098.
COTTAGES AT HEDGEBROOK - A Retreat for Women
Writers grants cottages and meals for writers for a stay of up
to three months. Application deadlines: Apr. 1 and Oct. 1. For
applications: 2197 E. Millman Rd., Langley, WA 98260.
NORCROFT - A writing retreat for women provides spaceand food for up to four weeks between May & October. Write
for 1995 applications: POB 300105, Minneapolis, MN 55403.
AD(VENTURES)
NANCY EVECHILD: a professional, well-respected psychic
reader, teacher and healer in private practice since 1988. Insightful, useful, in-depth readings available by mail on tape.
Call or write for brochure. 3608 14th Ave. S., Minneapolis,
MN 55407, (612) 729-5984.
SALLIE & EILEEN'S PLACE, vacation cabins for women.
POB 409, Mendocino, CA 95460, (707) 937-2028.
RED RIVER, 100% Cotton Menstrual Pads, comfortable, ecological, economical. Made by Land Dykes. Write for brochure: Red River, Box 130, Serafina, NM 87569.

Spring/Summer'995

107

SUPPORT
AILEEN WUORNOS DEFENSE COMMITTEE postcard campaign to demand a new trial for Wuornos . Postcards to: Florida
Supreme Court, 5th Judicial Circuit, 300 S. Beach St., Daytona
Beach, FL 32114. Call 415-995-2392 for more info .
LAVENDER L.E.A.P. is the Lesbian Emergency Action Fundof money given anonymously, available to any S.P. or Alameda
County (CA) woman-born lesbian of poverty or working classbackground who needs it. Lavender L.E.A.P.'s long-term goal
is to diminish economic disparities among lesbians. Send
checks, queries to: L. Leaf, POB 20921, Oakland, CA 94620.
SPINSTERHAVEN, INC., a retirement haven for older women
and women with disabilities, promoting physical, culturaland spiritual well-being of women. Membership info anddonations, POB 718, Fayetteville, AR 72701.
WHIPTAIL WOMYN'S COLLECTIVE provides a womynonly dyke-identified, drug-smoke-alcohol free space in S.P.
& needs all the help it can get. Send $, questions, energy to:3543 18th St. Box #29, SF, CA 94110.
LESBIANS IN CRITICAL NEED have been sending us increasing numbers of requests to run announcements for theirpersonal funds. Instead of printing these individual appeals,
we urge you to contribute frequently and generously to localorganizations. Imagine if we just told you your childhood
best friend, your favorite gym teacher, an admired dyke activist or your first lover had metastatic cancer and couldn' t pay
the doctor bills; or had developed E.!., could no longer leave
her house and had no way to get or pay for groceries. Then
make a contribution to Lavender L.E.A.P., The Dykefund, theCharlotte Maxwell Clinic, The Women's Cancer Resource
Center (these are S.P. Bay Area resources, find the ones inyour community). We need full support networks as well as
money - dykes willing to shop, drive, talk, listen, organize.
ANNOUNCEMENT
Ada Joyce, who was in prison in Mississippi, and whose
correspondence was quoted in SW #51, wants you to know
she's free!

108 sinister wisdom #55

010TERL I

0TRANCID: II
Lesbians Loving Across the Lines

The Lesbian Review
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A quarterly
review of~ fictioll,~, history
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Send $11.95 plus $1.50 p/h to:~ P.O.Box9062
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A lesbian Analysis~~....,~~.lBelles Letlres reviews exactly the \\Omen'sbooks I want to read. It is unpretentious, andits recommendations are right on the money.
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110 sinister wisdom #55

BRIDGES,,,w.,,,,'i ;t I *';""h i Ii i 0&46* II,'EeProudly Jewish
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Spring/Summer 1995 111

sinister wisdom
Some Current & Back Issues#54 Lesbians & Religion: explores questions of faith and community from many
directions (Elana Dykewomon's last issue as editor).
#53 Old LesbianslDykes: guest edited by 9 old dykes, features the work of 38
womyn over 60, including Del Martin, Phyllis Lyon & Sally Miller Gearhart.
#52 Allies includes 10 interviews by Jamie Lee Evans with lesbian activists.
#51 An open issue where lesbians lay claim to our lives.
#50 Not The Ethics Issue we had planned (read it to find out why). But there isgreat work on ethics & more. Guest edited by Caryatis Cardea and Sauda Burch.
#49 The Lesbian Body: here's where flesh and theory meet - includes lesbiansof color, roles, disability, body image, fat, sex, menopause and more.
#48 Lesbian Resistance: investigations into the activist heart of our courage including messages from dykes in prison.
#47 Lesbians of Color: Tellin' It Like It Tis'. Special 160-page issue edited bylesbians of color, includes new work in all forms - essential reading.
#46 Dyke Lives. New, international fiction and poetry.
#45 Lesbians and Class. The first issue edited entirely by poor and working classdykes includes analYSiS, personal narrative, poetry, fiction & a graffiti wall.
#43/44 The 15th Anniversary Retrospective. 368 pages, over 90 lesbians' workfrom the second wave. An amazing, indispensable source collection!
#42 Lesbian Voices. Our first intentional all-lesbian issue.
#41 Italian-American Women's Issue. Guest edited by Denise Leto & Janet Capone.
#40 Special Focus on Friendship. Essays, fiction, editorial discussion transcript.
#36 Special Focus on Surviving Psychiatric Assault/Creating Emotional Well
Being in our Communities. Includes testimony, prose, poetry and essays.
#35 Passing. Investigations into trying to appear other than we are.
#34 Special Focus on Lesbian Visions, Fantasy, SciFi.
#33 Special Focus on Wisdom. Lesbians of Color, non-violence, war stories,
incest, leaving a will, assimilation & The Real Fat Womon Poems.
#32 Special Focus on Illness, Death, Mourning, Healing, the disappeared, hunting season, dealing with suicide, cancer, new ritual observances.
#31 Special Focus on Sex and Fiction, coming out in the south, found goddesses.
#28 Special Focus on Women & Work; Body Image, Size & Eating.
#26 Special Issue: To Go To Berbir by Jill Drew, a book on being in Beirut in 1982.

We recently found a case of slightly dama ged copies of #39, On Disability ($5 ea.).
Sinister Wisdom #1-19, 27,37 & 38 are out of print. Photocopies can be provided$5 for the first article, $1 for each add . in the same order ($17 for a whole issue).
Allow one month for deli very.

112 sinister wisdom #55

reviews.llnl.lTER
WI.lDOm

Since 1976. ..

"One 01 the most popular and widely read
lesbian periodicals In existence "

plays

sO<
humor
revolution
visiondiversity
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defiance" . .. comes from and speaks to the heartof the feminist movement. ..

-Susan Griffin. VIne Reader

Joy Parks, Women's Rf.>view of Books

Plea se send:
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MANUSCRIPTS, SUBSCRIPTIONS, BACK ISSUE ORDERS &CHANGES OF ADDRESS
Please send all to: Sinister Wisdom, POB 3252, Berkeley, CA 94703
Submission Guidelines
All written work should be mailed flat (not folded), with your nameand address on each page. Submissions may be in any style or form,or combination of forms . Maximum submission: five poems or twostories per issue. We may return longer submissions. We prefer you
type (or send your work on 31/2" discs, ASCII or Mac, with a printout) .
Legible handwritten work accepted, tapes accepted from print-impaired womyn. All submissions must be on white paper. SASE MUST
BE ENCLOSED. Selection may take up to nine months . If you wantacknowledgment of receipt, enclose a separate, stamped postcard.
GRAPHIC ARTISTS should send B&W phot.os, stats, or other duplicates of their work. Let us know if we can keep artwork on file for
future us.e.
We publish only lesbians' work. We are particularly interested in workthat reflects the diversity of our experiences: as lesbians of c;:olor, ethnic
lesbians, Jewish, old, young, working class, poor, disabled, fat. We
welcome experimental work. We will not print anything that is oppressive or demeaning to lesbians or women, or which perpetuates negative
stereotypes. We do intend to keep an open and critical dialogue on all theissues that affect our work, joy and survival. See page 6 for details on
upcoming issues. We are open to suggestions for new themes.

Sinister Wisdom, Inc. is a 50I(c)(3) non-profit organization. We provide free subs to women in prison and mental institutions (15 % of ourmailing list), as well as reduced price subs for lesbians with limited/
fixed incomes .• Enclose an extra $10 on your renewal to help cover
publishing costs (larger donations accepted). • Give Sinister Wisdom
for birthdays, holidays, special occasions. • Consider doing a benefit
or subscription drive for SW in your city.
We need lots of lesbian energy to keep printing. • We particularly
need volunteer or commission grantwriters and ad sales reps. • Our
equipment needs list includes (in order) an office-quality Mac-compatible laser printer, a scanner & OCR software, a CD drive, a fax or
fax-modem. Thanks to each of you who participates in reading,writing for, building Sinister Wisdom.