tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/lesbianism-11310/articlesLesbianism – The Conversation2023-06-23T09:09:00Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2081382023-06-23T09:09:00Z2023-06-23T09:09:00ZExpanding gay sex pardons to women won’t help most prosecuted lesbians<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533539/original/file-20230622-17-ulbw9m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=122%2C213%2C5343%2C3434&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/mature-female-couple-waving-pride-flag-1160297098">Stephm2506/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>More than a decade after launching a scheme to <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/disregarding-convictions-for-decriminalised-sexual-offences">disregard and pardon convictions</a> for historic “gay sex” offences, the government has now announced the scheme will <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-65878427">apply to women</a>. But a look at the history of lesbians and bisexual women convicted for same-sex activity shows that this will do very little to right historic wrongs. </p>
<p>When the scheme was created in 2012, it was limited to cautions and convictions for buggery (anal intercourse) or gross indecency between men. Neither offence applied to sex between women. Anyone convicted of other offences on the basis of same-sex activity could not obtain a pardon or disregard. A disregard means that the offence is deleted from official records and is not disclosed during criminal record checks. Since 2017, a pardon has automatically been granted at the same time. </p>
<p>The new scheme includes any offence which has been abolished or repealed, where the “criminal” conduct was same-sex sexual activity. However, it does not do much to help women, because sex between women has never been a specific offence. (The exception is armed forces veterans <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/lgbt-veterans-independent-review/about#background-to-the-ban-and-legal-context">convicted under military laws</a>, which were interpreted as prohibiting homosexual acts.) </p>
<p>Instead, prosecutors were inventive in their use of non-sexual offences, many of which remain in force today. I’ve detailed many of these cases in <a href="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-030-35300-1">my book</a> on lesbianism and criminal law.</p>
<p>Before same-sex marriage became legally recognised in 2013, some couples’ attempts to marry ended in court. They were charged with perjury, for making false statements to obtain a marriage certificate. <a href="https://transpont.blogspot.com/2021/02/a-lewisham-transgender-marriage-in-1954.html">A couple who attempted to marry in 1954</a> were convicted of this offence. The bridegroom was in fact a trans man, but the magistrates’ court considered the couple as lesbians and condemned their “unnatural passions”. Since perjury is still an offence today, they would not be entitled to a pardon. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/pardons-for-historic-homosexual-offences-are-welcome-but-we-still-need-to-address-the-legacy-of-criminalisation-174371">Pardons for historic homosexual offences are welcome - but we still need to address the legacy of criminalisation</a>
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<p>Less serious offences were rarely reported in the press, so there have probably been many more cases than we are aware of. In particular, minor displays of public same-sex affection have come before the courts as breaches of public order. </p>
<p>Breach of the peace has been used for centuries and as recently as 1980, a lesbian couple who kissed goodbye at a railway station were detained by police. They were later released without charge, but if they had been prosecuted, they would not be entitled to a pardon. </p>
<p>Breach of the peace has not been abolished, and is technically not a conviction since a person is not punished, but is “<a href="https://www.cps.gov.uk/legal-guidance/binding-over-orders">bound over to be of good behaviour</a>” – meaning they agree to behave for a set period, and will be punished if they do not. </p>
<p>An alternative is conviction under public order offences, whose broad definitions have been used to criminalise same-sex affection. In 1986, two men were convicted of “nuisances in thoroughfares” under the <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/Vict/2-3/47/section/54">Metropolitan Police Act 1839</a> after kissing at a bus stop. This has been partially repealed, but similar offences under the <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1986/64/section/5">Public Order Act 1986</a> are still in force so pardons would not be available.</p>
<p>One sexual offence which was used to convict women has been repealed: indecent assault. The Sexual Offences Act 2003 replaced it with sexual assault offences. However, a woman would only be convicted of “indecent assault of a female” if the other person was under 16 or did not consent. Rightly, such behaviour remains criminal today. </p>
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<img alt="Photo of champagne flutes raised in a toast, while two brides embrace in the background" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533546/original/file-20230622-23-xhm9jg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Before 2004, lesbians’ attempts to marry often ended in court.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/group-flutes-champagne-held-by-company-2198228793">Pressmaster/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>This exclusion of women is not just an unfortunate oversight. It is part of a <a href="https://www.open.edu/openlearn/society-politics-law/law/lesbianism-and-the-criminal-law-england-and-wales">long history of silencing</a> the possibility of sex between women as a way of repressing it. In other words, legislators did not just forget to make it a crime or decide to tolerate it. They were vehemently opposed to it, but feared that if women heard about it then their own wives and daughters might try it. </p>
<p>For example, in a <a href="https://oro.open.ac.uk/55535/">1921 debate</a> on criminalising “gross indecency between females”, Lieutenant Colonel Moore Brabazon MP insisted that rather than execute or imprison lesbians (both “very satisfactory”), it was better “to leave them entirely alone, not notice them, not advertise them. That is the method that has been adopted in England for many hundred years.” Parliament has arguably continued “not noticing” women in the newly expanded disregard and pardon scheme. </p>
<h2>A flawed scheme</h2>
<p>The lack of consideration of women’s legal position is not the only problem with this scheme. Despite thousands of eligible convictions, there have been only <a href="https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/statistics-on-the-disregard-and-pardon-for-historical-gay-sexual-convictions/statistics-on-disregards-and-pardons-for-historical-gay-sexual-convictions">208 successful applications</a> by men. </p>
<p>The strict eligibility criteria poses many barriers for applicants, and as a result, two out of three applications have been rejected. To benefit from the scheme, applicants must provide documents and share details of often traumatic events. A caseworker then considers the case records and makes a decision. </p>
<p>But establishing the circumstances of a conviction can be difficult decades after the original events. Records may be missing or incomplete. They might omit details confirming that the activity would not be criminal today (for example, whether the other party was over 16 and consented). As the <a href="https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/1162391/013574_Disregards_Caseworker_Guidance_12.06.23.pdf">guidance to caseworkers</a> makes clear, applications can be rejected because of that missing information. </p>
<p>Access to a disregard and pardon is important in practice since criminal convictions can blight people’s lives. It is important in principle because it acknowledges the injustice of convictions based upon legal discrimination. </p>
<p>However, the scheme does not adequately meet these needs – and for women in particular, the recent reforms will not change that.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/208138/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Caroline Derry does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Sex between women has never been specifically outlawed.Caroline Derry, Senior Lecturer in Law, The Open UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2048862023-05-31T12:39:02Z2023-05-31T12:39:02ZSummer reading: 5 books that explore LGBTQ teen and young adult life<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/528449/original/file-20230526-19-zowllg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C38%2C5137%2C3350&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Coming of age brings new challenges for central characters who are discovering their own sexuality.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/reading-at-the-beach-royalty-free-image/102491237?phrase=summer+reading&adppopup=true">Chris Hackett via Getty Images</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>In recognition of LGBT Pride Month, The Conversation reached out to <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=uBrR7S0AAAAJ&hl=en&oi=sra">Jonathan Alexander</a> – an English professor with a scholarly interest in the interplay between sexuality and literature – for recommendations of young adult fiction books that feature LGBTQ characters. What follows is a list that Alexander, who has just stepped down as the children’s and young adult fiction section editor for the <a href="https://lareviewofbooks.org/">Los Angeles Review of Books</a>, considers as “must-reads” for this summer.</em></p>
<h2>1. Darius the Great Is Not Okay</h2>
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<img alt="Two boys sitting and looking at an urban landscape" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527550/original/file-20230522-19-alwc0p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">‘Darius the Great Is Not Okay’ by Adib Khorram.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/573023/darius-the-great-is-not-okay-by-adib-khorram/">Penguin Random House</a></span>
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<p>Written by Adib Khorram, “<a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/573023/darius-the-great-is-not-okay-by-adib-khorram/">Darius the Great Is Not Okay</a>” is told from the perspective of a Persian American teen battling an anxiety disorder while navigating the complexities of growing up in a culturally mixed household. Darius’ parents – an Iranian immigrant mother and a white father – are kind and sympathetic, even as they are dealing with their own issues, including the dad’s struggle with mental health issues and the mother’s attempt to maintain family relations with relatives in a country that is not only halfway around the world but whose government is viewed with suspicion by many Americans. Still, Darius’ family pulls together, even making a trip to Iran to visit relatives. While there, Darius learns about his cultural background as Persian, makes a lifelong friend in an Iranian cousin, and considers his own sexuality. He might be gay. How will that complicate his life? </p>
<p>Khorram beautifully handles the challenges – and pleasures – of growing up in a culturally mixed but rich and loving household while also dealing with mental health challenges and identity exploration. And there are a lot of sweet touches throughout, including a love of tea and “Star Trek.” Highly recommended for its sensitivity and authenticity. </p>
<h2>2. Lark & Kasim Start a Revolution</h2>
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<img alt="Two teenagers holding hands and smiling." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527556/original/file-20230522-23-49gxsv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Lark & Kasim Start a Revolution’ by Kacen Callender.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.abramsbooks.com/product/lark-kasim-start-a-revolution_9781419756870/">Abrams Books</a></span>
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<p>Kacen Callender, whose groundbreaking “<a href="https://www.harpercollins.com/products/felix-ever-after-kacen-callender?variant=32280909578274">Felix Ever After</a>” delighted readers with its tale of a Black trans boy learning how to navigate being in and out of love, returns with a new book just as compellingly real. Lark and Kasim are old friends whose relationship has seen better days. Lark is working hard at being a writer while also trying to help Kasim figure out how to handle the complexities of living at least part of their young lives in the shadows of social media. Ultimately, the book is as much about forging friendships – and learning how to handle their evolution – as about crushes and teen love. </p>
<p>With richly drawn nonbinary and queer characters, “Lark & Kasim Start a Revolution” joins Callender’s previous award-winning books in contributing beautifully written and deeply imagined Black, queer and trans characters that readers of all kinds will come to love. </p>
<h2>3. Last Night at the Telegraph Club</h2>
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<img alt="An empty city street with two people holding hands under a lamppost." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527560/original/file-20230522-14801-xyo5r1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">‘Last Night at the Telegraph Club’ by Malinda Lo.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/565819/last-night-at-the-telegraph-club-by-malinda-lo/">Penguin Random House</a></span>
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<p>Malinda Lo’s<a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/565819/last-night-at-the-telegraph-club-by-malinda-lo/"> National Book Award-winning novel</a> is set in mid-20th-century San Francisco, in a Chinese American immigrant community in which Lily Hu has to learn to deal with racism, the “Red Scare” and the possibility that she might be a lesbian. A masterwork of historical young adult literature, “Last Night at the Telegraph Club” introduces readers to how lesbian communities formed – and thrived – even during some of the most repressive and homophobic moments in U.S. history. </p>
<p>Lo’s novel joins her previous works, such as the groundbreaking “<a href="https://www.malindalo.com/ash">Ash</a>,” a retelling of Cinderella from a lesbian perspective, in creating exciting and affirming work for young queer readers, as well as for anyone who cares for those questioning their sexuality and sense of belonging in the world. </p>
<h2>4. Café Con Lychee</h2>
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<img alt="Two boys making eye contact in front of sugary snacks and drinks." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=903&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=903&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=903&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1135&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1135&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527562/original/file-20230522-15-b7kh5t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1135&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Café Con Lychee’ by Emery Lee.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.harpercollins.com/products/cafe-con-lychee-emery-lee?variant=40682132668450">Harper Collins Publishers</a></span>
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<p>Emery Lee’s delicious novel centers on the rivalry between an Asian American café and a Puerto Rican bakery in a small Vermont town – with both eateries facing competition from a new fusion restaurant that has just opened. The families that own the cafés each have a young son working in them – Theo and Gabi, respectively – who have to learn to overcome their own rivalry and help their families survive the precarities of operating a business in a world of cutthroat capitalism.</p>
<p>“<a href="https://www.harpercollins.ca/9780063210271/cafe-con-lychee/">Café Con Lychee</a>” shows how love survives economic challenges and family foibles as the two young men move from rivalry to romance. A sweet and nourishing tale, the book offers readers a relatable glimpse into making it – and making out – during a time of economic upheaval.</p>
<h2>5. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe</h2>
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<img alt="A red truck parked on grass at night." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527563/original/file-20230522-17128-jkclqz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">‘Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe’ by Benjamin Alire Sáenz.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Aristotle-and-Dante-Discover-the-Secrets-of-the-Universe/Benjamin-Alire-Saenz/Aristotle-and-Dante/9781665925419">Simon & Schuster</a></span>
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</figure>
<p>I want to conclude this year’s summer reading list with an older work – Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s still beautiful, still vital and still very necessary paean to young gay love. Ari and Dante, from two different walks of life, learn to find love and self-acceptance in this beautifully written book. At the start of the book, Ari is dealing with family trouble, including a brother in prison, and Dante is perhaps a bit too smart for his own good. The two meet at a swimming pool one summer, setting the stage for a steamy exploration of friendship that might turn into something more. If you haven’t read “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe,” catch up this summer with this classic of contemporary LGBTQ young adult fiction, and then check out its recently published sequel, “Aristotle and Dante Dive Into the Waters of the World.” Happy reading!</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/204886/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jonathan Alexander does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A scholar of young adult fiction presents a fresh list of LGBTQ ‘must-reads’ for the summer of 2023.Jonathan Alexander, Professor of English and Gender & Sexuality Studies, University of California, IrvineLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1799362022-03-25T00:44:32Z2022-03-25T00:44:32ZUN committee rules anti-lesbian sex laws breach human rights in landmark decision<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/454261/original/file-20220324-15-eqaqzw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C4128%2C2749&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>On Wednesday, a United Nations committee became the first international law body to recognise that criminalising female same-sex sexual activity is a fundamental breach of human rights.</p>
<p>The <a href="https://www.humandignitytrust.org/wp-content/uploads/resources/CEDAW-C-81-D-134-2018-English-clean-copy.pdf">landmark decision</a> means all countries that criminalise women having sex with other women should immediately repeal these laws.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1506776054706458627"}"></div></p>
<h2>Which countries criminalise homosexuality?</h2>
<p><a href="https://antigaylaws.org/">Seventy-one countries</a> still criminalise homosexual conduct. Many of these are our neighbours – <a href="https://antigaylaws.org/regional/asia-2/">ten in Asia</a> and <a href="https://antigaylaws.org/regional/pacificoceania/">seven in the Pacific</a>.</p>
<p>Many people assume these laws only apply to men having sex with men, but that’s not the case. Sexual conduct between women is prohibited in the criminal codes of 34 of these 71 countries.</p>
<p>Countries with sharia law such as Afghanistan, Nigeria and Saudi Arabia also essentially criminalise lesbian sex. So there are <a href="https://www.humandignitytrust.org/lgbt-the-law/map-of-criminalisation/?type_filter=crim_sex_women">43 countries</a> where it’s a crime for women to engage in same-sex sexual activity – almost a quarter of all countries in the world. </p>
<p>The majority of the countries that criminalise same-sex sexual activity are members of the <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1037969X1403900203">Commonwealth</a>, whose anti-homosexuality laws were introduced by the British Empire.</p>
<p>However, Britain only ever criminalised male homosexual activity, and the expansion of these laws to explicitly include female sexual activity is a relatively recent phenomenon. Countries that have done so include: Trinidad and Tobago (1986), Solomon Islands (1990), Sri Lanka (1995), Malaysia (1998) and Nigeria (2014).</p>
<p>In the past 35 years, <a href="https://www.humandignitytrust.org/wp-content/uploads/resources/Breaking-the-Silence-Criminalisation-of-LB-Women-and-its-Impacts-FINAL.pdf">ten jurisdictions</a> that previously only criminalised same-sex male sexual intimacy changed their laws to include, for the first time, new criminal sanctions of lesbians and bisexual women.</p>
<p>The laws criminalising same-sex activity between women aren’t just arcane laws that are never enforced. In Malaysia just over three years ago, two women were <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/sep/03/women-caned-in-malaysia-for-attempting-to-have-lesbian-sex">caned six times</a> for attempting to have sex.</p>
<p>And late last year, a <a href="https://www.advocate.com/world/2021/12/14/lesbian-detained-iran-fears-life-sareh">lesbian activist in Iran</a> was arrested while trying to flee to Turkey to seek asylum. Before this, she was detained for 21 days by the Iraqi Kurdistan police following an interview she did with BBC Persian about the situation of the LGBTQ+ community in Iraqi Kurdistan.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1037277740951584773"}"></div></p>
<h2>The case</h2>
<p>The case of <em>Flamer-Caldera v Sri Lanka</em> was brought by a lesbian activist to the UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).</p>
<p>She argued that Sri Lanka’s criminal laws violated her right to live her life free from discrimination based on her sexual orientation.</p>
<p>The CEDAW committee agreed.</p>
<p>It found the effect of Sri Lanka’s criminal code was that lesbian and bisexual women lived with the constant risk of arrest and detention. And the laws facilitate a culture where discrimination, harassment and violence against lesbians and bisexual women can flourish.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1507106976370769923"}"></div></p>
<p>Law is a tool that governments use to communicate to society what is acceptable and unacceptable behaviour. When the Sri Lankan government declared any sexual intimacy between consenting women is a crime, it signalled to Sri Lankans that vilification, targeting and harassment of lesbians and bisexual women is acceptable, because they are criminals.</p>
<p>The laws not only criminalise same-sex sexual conduct. They also perpetuate homophobia, stigmatise the LGBTQ+ community and sanction gender-based violence against lesbians and bisexual women.</p>
<p>This decision sends a clear message to all governments who think it’s OK to persecute, harass and discriminate against lesbians and bisexual women – you are wrong.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/australia-has-finally-achieved-marriage-equality-but-theres-a-lot-more-to-be-done-on-lgbti-rights-88488">Australia has finally achieved marriage equality, but there's a lot more to be done on LGBTI rights</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>What now?</h2>
<p>Sri Lanka now has six months to provide a written response to the CEDAW Committee setting out the action it has taken, or will take, to give effect to the committee’s decision.</p>
<p>Repealing the specific provision in the criminal law will not be enough. A much more holistic and nuanced response is required. In particular, the government will need to:</p>
<ul>
<li><p>develop campaigns to counter prejudice and stereotypes directed at the LGBTQ+ community</p></li>
<li><p>enact anti-discrimination laws prohibiting discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, gender identity and intersex status</p></li>
<li><p>embed human rights education in schools, promoting equality and respect for all regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity</p></li>
<li><p>provide training for police, judges and other law enforcement officials to increase their understanding of, and respect for, the human rights of LGBTQ+ people. This will also enable women to report homophobic crimes to the police without fear of retribution and with the knowledge the perpetrators will be prosecuted</p></li>
<li><p>ensure there are adequate civil and criminal remedies for members of the LGBTQ+ community who are subjected to discrimination and gender-based violence.</p></li>
</ul>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/its-time-to-talk-about-gay-reparations-and-how-they-can-rectify-past-persecutions-of-lgbtq-people-162086">It's time to talk about gay reparations and how they can rectify past persecutions of LGBTQ people</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The decision in <em>Flamer-Caldera v Sri Lanka</em> represents a watershed moment in international human rights law and will reverberate around the world.</p>
<p>It’s now beyond dispute that criminalising consensual adult same-sex sexual conduct violates a woman’s right to privacy, dignity and non-discrimination.</p>
<p>All governments have a duty to protect all women, including lesbians and bisexual women, from discrimination, gender-based violence and other harm. </p>
<p>Any country that criminalises the sexual conduct of lesbians and bisexual women, regardless of whether they enforce the laws, is guilty of violating international law.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/179936/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Paula Gerber is a director of Kaleidoscope Human Rights Foundation, a not-for-profit organisation advocating for the rights of LGBTIQ people in the Asia-Pacific region. </span></em></p>All countries that criminalise women having sex with other women should immediately repeal these laws.Paula Gerber, Professor of Human Rights Law, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1559642021-03-04T19:23:57Z2021-03-04T19:23:57ZFriday essay: hidden in plain sight — Australian queer men and women before gay liberation<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387127/original/file-20210302-13-1a4ucaj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=4%2C0%2C797%2C824&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A mug shot of Neville McQuade (aged 18) and Lewis Stanley Keith (aged 19), taken at North Sydney Police Station in June 1942.
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sydney Living Museums</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>It’s Sydney Lesbian and Gay Mardi Gras festival time. LGBTQI people are enjoying what some call “gay or lesbian Christmas”. It’s not quite the same in the era of COVID, but <a href="https://www.mardigras.org.au/events/parade">a contained version of the famous street parade</a> will be beamed into living rooms on Saturday. </p>
<p>The public face of Mardi Gras, which began in 1978 with a protest parade, is remarkable in a nation that has been deeply prejudiced toward gay and lesbian people. Part of the power of Mardi Gras for older generations was that it removed queer sexualities from the “secret” confines of semi-legal bar and club locations and private parties to the public street. Being on the front page of the newspaper no longer meant you might be going to jail.</p>
<p>Still, Australian queer people did not suddenly emerge in the 1960s and 70s, the years of gay liberation. Where were they before and how can they be identified? Because male homosexuality was criminalised, much can be discovered from the press and crime reports. Letters, memoirs, diaries, art, photographs and the memories of gay, lesbian, and transgender people also provide clues. </p>
<h2>From the bush to the boudoir</h2>
<p>The Australian colonies were marked by a shortage of women and the dominance of homosocial environments. Francis Forbes, former Chief Justice in the colony, when questioned at the so-called <a href="https://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/convict-sydney/molsworth-report">Molesworth inquiry into convict transportation in the 1830s</a>, had to admit Sydney <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/27508924?seq=1">“had been called a Sodom”</a>. Sodomy in the Tasmanian coal mines was also <a href="https://www.monash.edu/arts/philosophical-historical-international-studies/eras/past-editions/edition-six-2004-november/space-sexuality-and-convict-resistance-in-van-diemens-land-the-limits-of-repression">the subject of a British government inquiry</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/debauchery-on-the-fatal-shore-the-sex-lives-of-australias-convicts-88321">Debauchery on the fatal shore: the sex lives of Australia's convicts</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Andrew George Scott, alias Captain Moonlite.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There is evidence of what historian Robert Aldrich calls “conjoined” same-sex male couples in 19th-century Australia, including the famous bushranger <a href="https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2015/november/1446296400/jeff-sparrow/queer-bushranger#mtr">Captain Moonlite</a> (Andrew George Scott). As he waited to be hanged in Darlinghurst Jail in 1880, he wrote of his fellow ranger James Nesbitt: “We were one in heart and soul, he died in my arms and I long to join him …”</p>
<p>Homosexuality was often associated with foreigners and cosmopolitan affectation. George Francis Alexander Seymour, future Marquess of Hertford, lived in Queensland briefly around 1895. Likely inspired by international dance sensation <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loie_Fuller">Loie Fuller</a>, he shocked locals by wearing sequins and a veil for “skirt dancing” performances in front of “kanakas” (South Pacific men coerced to work in the canefields). </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">George Francis Alexander Seymour, future Marquess of Hertford, dancing.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Library of Australia.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p><a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/beauchamp-seventh-earl-5174">William Lygon</a>, later 7th Earl Beauchamp — the governor of New South Wales for a short time from 1899 — travelled with a retinue of good-looking footmen and lavished praise on the natural grace of Australian athletes and lifesavers. </p>
<p>He was disgraced as a homosexual by his brother-in-law in 1931 and became the subject of the famous statement by King George V: “I thought people like that always shot themselves.”</p>
<p>He <a href="https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/learn/histories/lgbtq-history/walmer-castle-and-homosexuality/">subsequently inspired</a> the famous novel by Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited.</p>
<h2>Interwar life: fashion and fancy</h2>
<p>In the inter-war years, there was a marked queer presence in the worlds of Australian art, design, entertainment and retail. This was the period of art deco and Australian “genteel modernism”. Art Deco (called moderne or futurist style at the time) was inseparable from fashion and fantasy and frequently derided as an effeminate style — it has even been called the “International Style in drag”. </p>
<p>Cultural nationalist and the director of Melbourne’s National Gallery of Victoria from 1936–1941, J. S. MacDonald, claimed this type of art and design had been promoted by women and “pansies”, meaning homosexual men.</p>
<p>Smith’s Weekly, The Bulletin and the New Triad mocked the “wasp waists” and “goo goo boys” who worked in retail and enjoyed theatre. </p>
<p>Some queers worked as entertainers or drag queens. In NSW this was a summary offence of indecency (still used by police in the 1970s). Drag queens and cross-dressers had to wear male underwear or else risk arrest. </p>
<p>Cross-dressing was also associated at the time with <a href="https://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/exhibitions/city-shadows">street prostitution</a>. A police mugshot from 1942 shows two cross-dressed male sex workers wearing women’s coats, one with huge rabbit-fur-trimmed sleeves, as well as a turban and makeup. The men still look very male and defiant, suggesting a part of their sexual charge came from precisely this lack of ambiguity; it was clear they were not women.</p>
<p>Clearly annoyed, one of the pair remarked to the tabloid Truth:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We were bundled out of the police cell, and snapped immediately. My friend and I had no chance to fix our hair or arrange our make-up. We were half asleep and my turban was on the wrong side.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gay male artists and commercial designers in Sydney lived their queer lives discreetly on moderate incomes. The flower painter <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/feint-adrian-george-10161">Adrian Feint</a>, who lived in Elizabeth Bay, produced many bookplates depicting languid young men with a queer mood. </p>
<p>His disguised self-portrait etching of a dandy entitled The Collector (1925) carried the suggestion of eye and lip makeup, depicting archaic Edwardian dress, a top hat, a cane, plaid suit and cape.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Adrian Feint’s disguised self portrait.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>His remarkable cover for the upmarket magazine The Home (July 1929) featured a “Rum Corps” officer whom Feint transformed into a languid, heavily made-up beauty, recalling both the Ballets Russes, who were touring Australia, and the famous queer movie star Rudolph Valentino. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cover of The Home journal, Volume 7 No.10. July 1 1929, designed by Adrian Feint.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The culture of hedonism, promiscuity, heavy drinking, pub life and mixed-class socialising that characterised life in the colonies pervaded Australian gay life until recently. Pubs and clubs were crude, brash and fun. Bohemian ideas were also important. All sorts of behaviour were excused at the <a href="http://melbourneblogger.blogspot.com/2013/10/lascivious-artists-balls-1900-1939.html">Artists’ Balls</a>, which were held in Sydney from the 1920s until 1964. Gay balls were often accompanied by a blind orchestra (not unusual at the time due to war injuries) so the goings on could not be observed.</p>
<p>A 1925 sketch by Mandi McCrae of one such ball in The Home, September 1925, delineates a transsexual, two men with arms akimbo, and several gender-indeterminate figures. The press loved running stories of cross-dressed men whose dresses were so large they had to arrive in delivery vans. One told of a live bird in a cage worn as a Marie Antoinette-style headdress.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A sketch of an Artist’s Ball from The Home, September 1925.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Urban subcultures</h2>
<p>In the interwar years, a queer urban subculture coalesced for the first time in Sydney around art deco sites and buildings: city hotels, the Archibald Fountain by night for cruising, and the new high-density housing of Kings Cross, Potts Point, Darlinghurst and East Sydney. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">High density housing helped foster the bachelor life.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter McNeil</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Boonara, a middle-class block of flats in Woollahra, built by a widow and a “spinster” in 1918, was let only to women and one male artist, <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/lister-william-lister-604">William Lister Lister</a>. Restaurants catering to a homosexual clientele included Madame Pura’s Latin Cafe in the now demolished Royal Arcade. </p>
<p>Many Australian artists and writers became expatriate in this period to escape wowserism, censorship and the anti-art tenor of Australian society. They included Nobel winning novelist Patrick White, who conducted one of the great same-sex love affairs with Manoly Lascaris from 1941 until White’s death in 1990. White spent his youth in England, writing from a desk designed by the queer interior decorator and later famed artist Francis Bacon.</p>
<p>Back home in the 1940s, a group of queer artists, dancers and designers lived in Merioola, a run-down mansion in Edgecliff known then as “Buggery Barn”. They included artists <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/friend-donald-stuart-leslie-12516">Donald Friend</a> and <a href="https://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/justin-obrien/">Justin O'Brien</a>, acclaimed costume designer <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/sainthill-loudon-11602">Loudon Sainthill</a> and his partner, the theatre critic and gallery director <a href="http://www.elisarolle.com/queerplaces/fghij/Harry%20Tatlock%20Miller.html">Harry Tatlock Miller</a>. The landlady was the butch looking <a href="https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-136208998/view">Chica Lowe</a>. She provided a set-like stage on which residents performed their counter-cultural lives.</p>
<p>Wealthier queers conducted their lives at private dinners, where ironic cross-dressing provided entertainment. They used camp girls’ names such as Connie, Simone, Zena and Maude. Cross-dressing was a popular diversion for groups of gay friends, who hired country and beach houses for private parties around the country. </p>
<p>A queer sensibility can tell us as much as a queer identification at a time when non-binary sexuality could lead to financial ruin for both women and men. </p>
<p>Australia’s first interior decorator, Margaret Jaye, was almost certainly a lesbian, and one of the nation’s first industrial designers, Molly Grey, was photographed in 1935 with a Sapphic hairstyle and severe dress of oversize mannish collar, bow tie, and cuffs. Interior design, being connected to domesticity and the home, was one of the few professions where married women and gay men could work undisturbed.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Molly Grey photographed in Potts Point Sydney by Harold Cazneaux circa 1935.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">State Library of New South Wales</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The author <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/langley-eve-10784">Eve Langley</a> (who changed her name to Oscar Wilde by deed poll in 1954) and her sister June cross-dressed in country Gippsland when young, where they were known as the “trouser women”. Eve continued to wear mannish attire in her old age in the Blue Mountains.</p>
<h2>Sydney: from port to gay city</h2>
<p>World War II was a watershed for Australian queer identity. <a href="https://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/blogs/garry-wotherspoon-oral-history-interviews-gay-men-1980-1988-have-been-released-librarys-oral">Historians such as Garry Wotherspoon</a> have noted how port cities such as Sydney and San Francisco threw large numbers of young men together, away from their families, in new types of housing such as bachelor flats. These cities were the ones that later developed the first large homosexual communities, often in neglected inner-city areas, in the 1960s and 1970s. </p>
<p>World War II also threw into the mix female impersonators who performed for the forces. The Australian armed forces had 20 concert party groups and gave 12,000 shows in Australia, the Middle East and the Pacific. The Kiwi (New Zealand) Concert Party wore drag made from muslin, dishcloths and silver paper as well as real fashions. They continued to perform for nine years after the war ended. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Official war artist Roy Hodgkinson captured a moment of revelry among Australian military forces at a New Guinea Concert Party in 1942.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Australian War Memorial</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Academic Chris Brickell has made <a href="https://www.brickell.nz/home/index.php/publications/books/mates-and-lovers">the important point</a> that although many of the performers pretended to be co-opted for their roles, most were more than willing. Their drag acts “drew from, and subsequently inspired, gay civilians’ own drag performances”.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lance-Corporal J. C. Robinson adjusting the wig of Private G. J. Buckham, female impersonator in the dressing room of the Kookaroos Concert Party, Torokina, Bougainville, 1945.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Australian War Memorial</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/i-didnt-know-that-world-existed-how-lesbian-women-found-a-life-in-the-armed-forces-88943">'I didn't know that world existed': how lesbian women found a life in the armed forces</a>
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<p>1950s Australia saw an increasing witch hunt around queer sexuality, fuelled by the churches, the demands of the police and Cold War anxiety about Communist inflitration. The tabloid press continued earlier sensational reporting: (“Degenerate Dressed up as a Doll … St Kilda Sensation—Man-Woman Masquerader”) with headlines such as “Police War on this Nest of Perverts”. Even the famed 1950s American <a href="https://www.encyclopedia.com/social-sciences/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/physique-magazines-and-photographs">muscle culture magazines</a> were banned under strict censorship here. </p>
<p>Lesbian butch and femme subcultures had emerged by this time, in which one partner was styled in a hyper-feminine way, the other donning trousers and shorter hair. Writer Gavin Harris notes that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lillian_May_Armfield">Lillian Armfield</a>, NSW’s first policewoman, claimed department stores blacklisted lesbians who were trying to “recruit” from among their “innocent” customers. </p>
<h2>Blak and queer</h2>
<p>Queer Indigenous people have been prominent for several decades in art forms such as dance, where they contribute to new formulations of ideas of “blak beauty,” blak being a term consciously deployed by contemporary queer visual artists, including <a href="http://www.artdes.monash.edu.au/globe/issue10/batxt.html">Brook Andrew</a>.</p>
<p>The biography and survival story of Indigenous dancer and choreographer Noel Tovey (born 1934) charts a trajectory from abandonment and abuse to a life as a successful actor and dancer in London in the 1960s. Here Tovey mixed with gay circles and gained resilience and self-esteem. </p>
<p>Tovey described in his autobiography <a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Little-Black-Bastard-Noel-Tovey/9780733619472">Little Black Bastard</a> the Artist’s Ball in Melbourne as “the only night of the year when the police turned a blind eye to the number of drag queens looking for a cab”. Characters who might turn up there included “Puss in Boots” or a reclusive “Greta Garbo”: the latter refused to talk to anyone all night. Tovey was later involved with the spectacular Awakenings opening dance sequence at the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games </p>
<h2>From blending to assertion</h2>
<p>William Yang has been photographing queer Brisbane and Sydney <a href="https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/artists/william-yang/">since 1969</a>. In that year, he photographed David Williams, or Beatrice, who performed in drag at the Purple Onion Club, Sydney (opened 1962), singing “The Sound of Mucus” and “A Streetcar Named Beatrice”. The clothes matched the crude titles: synthetic crinolines and huge feather hats. </p>
<p>Yang also photographed gays who wished to blend, whose clothes appear very ordinary, with a slight edge that can only be read through the focus on casual softness. </p>
<p>Calls for an end to the criminalisation of homosexuality in Australia appeared by the early 1960s, following the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolfenden_report#:%7E:text=The%20Report%20of%20the%20Departmental,Montagu%20of%20Beaulieu%2C%20Michael%20Pitt%2D">UK Wolfenden Committee report of 1957</a>, which recommended decriminalisation. The concept of “gay liberation” spread from activism in Sydney with the formation of CAMP Inc group in 1970, and at the University of Melbourne in 1971, into the wider public domain. </p>
<p>Sydney’s notorious street protest, the first Sydney Gay Mardi Gras (later Gay and Lesbian), took <a href="https://www.mardigras.org.au/history">place in 1978</a>. The first march was notorious for the arrests and the violence directed at the participants at the old Darlinghurst Police Station (now closed) and created a catalyst for further activism. Many more bars, clubs and community organisations opened and provided relatively safe spaces for LGBTQI to gather.</p>
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<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-on-the-sydney-mardi-gras-march-of-1978-54337">Friday essay: on the Sydney Mardi Gras march of 1978</a>
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<p>In recent decades we have witnessed a massive shift from situational, private and criminalised sexualities to open, liberationist and perhaps also commodified ones. </p>
<p>But there are gays and lesbians everywhere if you look carefully in the past, even if not all were as striking or spectacular as the ones outlined here.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/155964/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter McNeil consults for Alphawood Exhibitions LLC in the Unites States of America. </span></em></p>From the “goo goo” boys mocked for their love of theatre to cross-dressing troops and “trouser women”, Australia has a rich queer history.Peter McNeil, Distinguished Professor of Design History, UTS, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1304202020-02-12T14:31:09Z2020-02-12T14:31:09ZRomosexuality – embracing queer sex and love in Ancient times<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/314995/original/file-20200212-61958-1h27sw2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=572%2C24%2C2638%2C2108&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The Romans have been denounced for their reverie in 'vice' but their hedonistic approach to love and sexuality should be celebrated </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">salajean/Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Greek homosexuality has been set upon a pedestal, deemed a worthy and respectable model for romance by philosophers, writers and lovers alike. The reality is, though, that love and sex for the queer community owe more to the ancient Romans. Their approach was grittier, dirtier and sometimes just as romantic. However, it’s an outlook on sex and love we are only now coming to embrace.</p>
<p>Ancient Greece’s appeal to gay men is much better known. Pioneering activists such as <a href="http://rictornorton.co.uk/symonds/">John Addington Symonds</a> (1840-1893) and <a href="https://norman.hrc.utexas.edu/fasearch/findingAid.cfm?eadid=00060">George Cecil Ives</a> (1867-1950) turned to Greece as a respectable model. It offered them a legitimising precedent for elevated and spiritual love between men. They found this through Platonic philosophy and historical and mythical examples of devoted lovers. </p>
<p>Greek love is celebrated in their work for “sublimity” and “aesthetic” appreciation of male beauty. However, when describing Roman love and erotic practices words such as “gross”, “obscene”, and “lust” abound. To them, Roman homosexuality was <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=mEtoCgAAQBAJ&pg=PA24&lpg=PA24&dq=i+have+read+of+the+filthy+riots+described+by+cicero&source=bl&ots=UEbYgXSIH3&sig=ACfU3U1i23Pp4EGd2t95gF1bmxz3peJ9mg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjhyN3p-8bnAhWztXEKHVFrBqUQ6AEwAHoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=i%20have%20read%20of%20the%20filthy%20riots%20described%20by%20ci">not expressed with romantic love, but with riotous orgies</a>. It is often linked to the notorious emperor Nero. A hedonistic ruler who married both women and men. A man who is believed to have enjoyed penetrating as much as he enjoyed being <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_same-sex_unions#Classical_Europe,_Middle_East,_and_China">penetrated by his well-endowed husband</a>. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/mythbusting-ancient-rome-the-emperor-nero-65797">Mythbusting Ancient Rome – the emperor Nero</a>
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<p>These authors also criticise the licence of Roman writers including Petronius, whose novel the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2010/jun/20/satyricon-petronius-review">Satyricon became a byword for Roman decadence</a>. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/charlottehigginsblog/2009/nov/24/catullus-mark-lowe">Catullus</a>, in whose work tender love verses for women and boys are found alongside shocking sexual imagery. Also frequently attacked for obscenity, were the poets Juvenal and Martial. </p>
<h2>Rome embraced</h2>
<p>Demonising Roman vice was politically convenient. Doing so highlighted the <a href="https://global.oup.com/academic/product/ancient-rome-and-the-construction-of-modern-homosexual-identities-9780199689729?cc=gb&lang=en&">virtue of Greek homosexuality</a> and bestowed a similar virtuous sheen upon those who denounced Rome’s debauched ways. But for those who did not feel the need to apologise for their desires, the Romans provided a positive model. </p>
<p>While Greek homosexuality was rather bloodless – used to demonstrate that love between two men could be respectable – Rome is able to encompass a much queerer and more varied set of erotic possibilities.</p>
<p>When Rome is embraced, love and sex need not be mutually exclusive. This can be seen in the anonymous and clandestinely circulated <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jan/19/gay-erotic-novel-oscar-wilde-teleny-des-grieux">1893 pornographic novel Teleny</a>.</p>
<p>Nods to Rome in the novel include sex scenes with language recalling the imagery found in the works of Catullus and Martial. For instance, at an orgy, cross-dressing men are titillated by paintings that recreate sexually explicit Roman murals. There are also passages on <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2018/nov/14/romans-invent-dick-pic-young-man-penis-roman-toilet-turkey">Rome’s obsession with huge penises, reflected in its worship of the god Priapus</a>, who was famed for his enormous member. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=514&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=514&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314996/original/file-20200212-61974-qcr501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=514&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The erotic novel Teleny, which celebrates a love that emulates Roman homosexuality, is often attributed to the writer Oscar Wilde.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_Wilde_time_3.jpg">Wikimedia</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Teleny even suggests that love, and not just sex, between men can be influenced by Rome. The devoted couple who form the novel’s emotional heart are repeatedly presented as the <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/this-britain/hadrian-the-gay-emperor-769442.html">emperor Hadrian and his beloved, Antinoüs</a>. The novel’s use of this Roman pair even suggests that love between two men can survive beyond death, recalling Hadrian’s mourning for his lover after his untimely demise, and immortalising of Antinoüs throughout the Empire. </p>
<p>The book is sometimes attributed to Oscar Wilde. However, Wilde publicly <a href="https://famous-trials.com/wilde/327-home">defended himself against charges</a> of being a “sodomite” by appealing to the idealised vision of Greek love. Yet in private, he toyed with the pleasingly decadent model offered by <a href="https://www.oxfordscholarship.com/view/10.1093/oso/9780198833031.001.0001/oso-9780198833031-chapter-8">Rome and the emperor Nero</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/oscar-wilde-would-have-been-on-grindr-but-he-preferred-a-more-clandestine-connection-72932">Oscar Wilde would have been on Grindr – but he preferred a more clandestine connection</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>The secret language of queer love</h2>
<p>Wilde was far from alone in responding to ancient homosexuality rather differently depending on whether he was operating in a public or a private context. Even though the activist John Addington Symonds deplored Roman vice while <a href="https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/A_Problem_in_Greek_Ethics/Chapter_XX">celebrating Greek virtue in his public campaigning works</a>, he was far <a href="https://www.palgrave.com/gp/book/9781349953721">less prudish in his private diary</a>. </p>
<p>There, describing a sexual encounter with a male lover, he slips from English into Latin. In writing about sex using the very language of ancient Rome, Symonds was participating in a long modern tradition. <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/588835?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents">Latin has been used as a private language in which upper-class men</a> could talk between themselves about sex, safe in the knowledge that their wives or servants would not be able to understand.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=759&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=759&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=759&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=954&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=954&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/314997/original/file-20200212-61981-d0obc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=954&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Anne Lister looked to Ovid to suss out whether the women she was courting were interested in her advances.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6e/Anne_Lister_Restoration.jpg/512px-Anne_Lister_Restoration.jpg">Wikimedia</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Rome has appealed to far fewer LGBTQ+ women than men, precisely because it is mostly a male elite who have had access to a classical education. Yet Rome has played a role in love between women for a few privileged and extraordinary individuals. </p>
<p>Long before the Victorian era, <a href="https://historicengland.org.uk/research/inclusive-heritage/lgbtq-heritage-project/love-and-intimacy/anne-lister-and-shibden-hall/">Anne Lister</a> (1791-1840) of Shibden Hall, and of <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m00059m9">Gentleman Jack</a> fame, turned to Rome for a variety of erotic possibilities. </p>
<p>Lister had studied Greek and Latin with a private tutor. She claimed that Greek was her favourite language, yet Roman examples appealed to her when it came to matters of the heart – and other parts of the body. She flirtingly referred to Ovid’s Metamorphoses to sound out whether a new female friend was aware of the queer possibilities of antiquity, masturbated to the poet Juvenal (who had surely never imagined such a use for his satires savagely condemning sex between women), and translated Martial for her lover Marianna, before jumping into bed with her – presumably not to sleep. </p>
<p>From a broad range of erotic possibilities and a private sexual language, to models for romantic relationships, Rome has had an important impact on queer lives and loves. Yes, it is much more down and dirty but in many ways it is much more realistic. As such, we should place it on an equal pedestal to that of pretty Greek queerness and celebrate the pleasure and pain of Roman love and sex.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/130420/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span><a href="mailto:jennifer.ingleheart@durham.ac.uk">jennifer.ingleheart@durham.ac.uk</a> has received funding from the British Academy and the Harry Ransom Center for her work relating to modern responses to ancient homosexuality. </span></em></p>Grecian love is often idealised as an respectable model for queer love. However, there’s more pleasure and reality to be found in ancient Rome’s dirtier versionJennifer Ingleheart, Chair Professor of Latin, Durham UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1304112020-01-31T15:38:55Z2020-01-31T15:38:55ZPoets and lovers: the two women who were Michael Field<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/311965/original/file-20200127-81403-1matn7c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=1%2C1%2C750%2C805&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Two women, one poet: Katherine Bradley and Edith Cooper.</span> </figcaption></figure><p>“Let no man think he can put asunder what God has joined”. So wrote the poet Katharine Bradley in <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Michael_Field_The_Poet.html?id=635aDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y">a letter of 1886</a>. She was explaining her relationship with her niece Edith Cooper, using the words of the Christian marriage ceremony to affirm their lifelong partnership. </p>
<p>In an era in which Queen Victoria is (erroneously) rumoured to have dismissed <a href="https://www.scotsman.com/news-2-15012/background-myth-of-victoria-and-ban-on-homosexuality-1-1499082">lesbianism as an impossibility</a>, these two women declared themselves “closer married” even than Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning – the ultimate <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/notes/2016/03/elizabeth-barrett-browning-birthday/472377/">literary power couple</a> – because, as Bradley <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Michael_Field_The_Poet.html?id=635aDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y">explained</a>: “those two poets, man and wife, wrote alone”. Rather than writing separately, Bradley and Cooper decided to create their works as one.</p>
<p>They invented <a href="https://www.ohioswallow.com/book/Michael+Field">a whole new persona</a> to bind them together. His name was “Michael Field”. Writing together through this male voice, Bradley and Cooper forged a collaboration that was both romantic and creative. Being Field allowed them to express things that, <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Michael_Field_The_Poet.html?id=635aDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y">in Bradley’s words</a> “the world will not tolerate from a woman’s lips”. As Field, they published hundreds of poems, many of them strikingly erotic. As they <a href="https://michaelfield.dickinson.edu/node/104">wrote defiantly</a> in one poem:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>My Love and I took hands and swore,<br>
Against the world, to be<br>
Poets and lovers evermore.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bradley and Cooper certainly had reason to feel that the world was against them. Their early works were enthusiastically received: <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Michael_Field_The_Poet.html?id=635aDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y">one reviewer</a> suggested that Field be nominated for poet laureate. But once word got around that this promising writer was two women, rather than one man, their reception took a decidedly dismissive turn – precisely as they had feared.</p>
<h2>Aesthetes and lovers</h2>
<p>Nonetheless, the women still had the support of their friends, many of whom were part of the late-19th-century <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/a/aesthetic-movement">aesthetic movement</a>. Aestheticism promoted an “art for art’s sake” philosophy, celebrating beauty as free of moral or utilitarian considerations. Aesthetic friends included Oscar Wilde, the art critic Bernard Berenson, and the artists and designers Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon, themselves a committed same-sex couple. </p>
<p>Ricketts and Shannon created several beautiful volumes for Bradley and Cooper, using fine paper and stunningly intricate cover designs. Field’s works never sold in huge numbers, but they attracted an elite set of influential admirers and Bradley and Cooper became minor celebrities in the fin-de-siècle literary world.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=715&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=715&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=715&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/311857/original/file-20200124-81411-3jonsw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=898&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A cover design for Michael Field’s <em>Wild Honey from Various Thyme</em> (1908) by Charles Ricketts.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">[link</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>One of their earliest volumes, <a href="https://michaelfield.dickinson.edu/longago">Long Ago</a> (1889) took inspiration from <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/03/16/girl-interrupted">Sappho of Lesbos</a> – the most celebrated woman poet of Ancient Greece and the origin of the term “lesbian”. Sappho’s poems, which only survive in fragments, address love lyrics to both male and female loved ones. Bradley and Cooper use these fragments as suggestive catalysts for their own poems, celebrating female beauty and intimacy. For example, the fragment “<a href="https://michaelfield.dickinson.edu/node/156">They plaited garlands in their time</a>” becomes a fully-fledged vision of Sapphic community:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>They plaited garlands in their time;<br>
They knew the joy of youth’s sweet prime,<br>
Quick breath and rapture:<br>
Theirs was the violet-weaving bliss,<br>
And theirs the white, wreathed brow to kiss,<br>
Kiss, and recapture.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Love in a cold climate</h2>
<p>Both women were deeply interested in classical literature, having studied Latin and Greek at Newnham College and University College, Bristol. The Hellenic world provided them with an example of a society in which homoerotic love was accepted and honoured. But their sexuality (including the incestuous dimension of their partnership) never appeared to trouble them much, as they proudly proclaimed their fellowship throughout their life and works.</p>
<p>Bradley and Cooper were true “Renaissance women”. Every new volume became an exciting new research project into which they threw themselves with gusto. No arena was off limits and their interests stretched from European art, to perfume, ecology, vegetarianism, theology and philosophy. The scope of their artistic ambition is captured in more than 20 verse dramas, as well as lyric poetry. They believed unshakably in their own genius, despite critical indifference and occasional mockery.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=927&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=927&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313074/original/file-20200131-41503-1nvmsut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=927&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Katherine Bradley with Whym Chow, circa 1903.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Public Domain</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Perhaps their strangest volume is <a href="https://www.sas.upenn.edu/%7Ecavitch/pdf-library/Field_WhymChow.pdf">Whym Chow: Flame of Love</a>, a book of poems dedicated to their beloved dog. They acquired this somewhat domineering chow in 1897 and he quickly became the centre of their world. Following his unexpected early death in 1906, the women were so devastated that they converted to Roman Catholicism, in the hopes that they would be reunited with him in heaven. </p>
<p>Their last volumes, <a href="https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.31158003790978&view=1up&seq=7">Mystic Trees</a> (1913) and <a href="https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc2.ark:/13960/t5m906x7t&view=1up&seq=7">Poems of Adoration</a> (1914), contained Catholic poems that combined their earlier pagan passion with a new devotion to the Virgin Mary. Their faith offered comfort when Cooper was diagnosed with cancer in 1911. She died in 1913, with Bradley following shortly after in 1914.</p>
<h2>Flawed icons</h2>
<p>Michael Field was neglected for the bulk of the 20th century. But, in recent years, interest in their collaboration has grown. This raises the question: what can Bradley and Cooper teach us today? Their joint diaries have recently become available <a href="https://vllc.wordpress.cdhsc.org/the-michael-field-diaries/">online</a>, covering a 26-year period from 1888 to 1914. </p>
<p>These offer a unique insight into the ups and downs of lifelong same-sex partnership in all its complexity. Like <a href="https://www.annelister.co.uk/">Anne Lister’s diaries</a>, recently dramatised as <a href="https://theconversation.com/gentleman-jack-a-gripping-19th-century-tale-of-one-womans-bravery-in-sex-and-politics-116868">Gentleman Jack</a>, Bradley and Cooper’s diary reveals them – potential queer icons that they were – to be deeply flawed: snobbish, over-sensitive, dismissive of women and the working classes. </p>
<p>As we discover their fascinating world for ourselves, they remind us that our LGBTQ historical figures can be both queer – and incorrigibly human – in truly unexpected ways.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/130411/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sarah Parker's book Michael Field: Decadent Moderns (2019) is published by Ohio University Press.</span></em></p>Katherine Bradley and Edith Cooper were aunt and niece as well as lovers who published under a male pseudonym.Sarah Parker, Lecturer in Nineteenth and Twentieth-Century Literature, Loughborough UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1171102019-05-31T13:48:09Z2019-05-31T13:48:09ZIf your sexual orientation is accepted by society you will be happier and more satisfied with your life<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277425/original/file-20190531-69095-1ehye98.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Homosexual women are mostly happier with their lives than heterosexual women.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/couple-gay-woman-having-breakfast-together-1267928482?src=L0n4kDoC1Oy2okptAAucNQ-1-18">engagestock/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>In recent years LGBT+ rights have improved dramatically. Same-sex marriage is now legally performed and recognised <a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2019/05/17/global-snapshot-sex-marriage/">in 28 countries</a>. Equality laws protect LGBT+ people <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2010/15/contents">at work</a> and increased media coverage is improving knowledge and awareness of sexual orientations. More to be done, however, to ensure equality for all, and researchers have been looking into how different factors like these contribute to the happiness and life satisfaction of people with minority sexual identities.</p>
<p>Studies have shown that, on average, homosexuals and bisexuals report <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0165176519301466">lower levels of life satisfaction</a> than heterosexuals. This has been linked to homosexuals and bisexuals experiencing heteronormativity (the assumption that heterosexual orientation and binary gender identity are “normal”, which has led to the world being built to cater to the needs and desires of heterosexual life), <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2072932/">which leads to stigmatisation</a>. For our <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0165176519301466">new study</a> we looked deeper into the links between sexuality and life satisfaction, and found that people with an “other” sexual identity – such as pansexual, demisexual, or asexual – also experience lower levels of life satisfaction than heterosexuals.</p>
<h2>Well-being differences</h2>
<p>Using 150,000 responses collected over five years as part of the <a href="https://www.understandingsociety.ac.uk/">Understanding Society survey</a>, we analysed whether the happiest heterosexuals are happier than the happiest sexual minorities, and if the least happy sexual minorities are less happy than the least happy heterosexuals. When looking at the data, we controlled for a number of things – such as age, employment, personality, and location – to make sure our results focused solely on sexual identity.</p>
<p>While other studies have looked at the “average” effect of sexual identity on happiness (where it has been shown that sexual minorities report lower levels of life satisfaction), my colleagues and I considered the whole well-being distribution. That is, we looked at the differences between heterosexuals and sexual minorities at the lowest, average, and highest levels of self-reported life satisfaction.</p>
<p>Our results are clear that sexual identity is correlated with life satisfaction, but it is a nuanced picture. We found that homosexual males are less happy with their lives than heterosexual males, except for at the very top of the well-being distribution (where they are happiest). We also saw that homosexual females are happier with their lives than heterosexual females. Although interestingly that is except for at the lowest levels of well-being. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=404&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=404&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=404&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=507&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=507&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277202/original/file-20190530-69091-z9xgeo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=507&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Facing ostracisation on the basis of your sexual identity has a large negative impact on how satisfied you are with your life.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/hands-holding-rainbow-paper-hearts-lgbt-245541811">Yulia Grigoryeva/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bisexuals – irrespective of gender – report the lowest levels of life satisfaction, and the loss to well-being associated with being bisexual (rather than heterosexual) is at least comparable to the effect of being unemployed or having ill-health. In fact, out of all the sexual identities analysed we found that bisexuals are the least satisfied with their lives. </p>
<p>“Other” sexual identities are associated with lower levels of life satisfaction in the bottom half of the distribution, but higher life satisfaction in the top half. This means that the least happy people with an other sexual identity are less happy than their heterosexual counterparts. But the happiest people with an other sex identity are actually happier than their heterosexual counterparts. </p>
<p>While our findings highlight the importance of gender (or more precisely its interaction with sexual identity), this is only relevant for homosexuals. As noted above, the results for homosexual males and homosexual females are drastically different This makes sense considering that other research has highlighted that societal attitudes towards lesbians are <a href="https://academic.oup.com/poq/article-abstract/66/1/40/1866690">more preferential</a> than to gay males. So it is likely that the higher life satisfaction reported by lesbians (compared to heterosexual women) is associated with these more positive societal attitudes. </p>
<h2>Identity and acceptance</h2>
<p>Looking to our findings for other sexual identities, we believe that growing awareness (for example due to <a href="https://www.glaad.org/whereweareontv18">increased representation</a> on television) is likely to have reduced the need for some people to “explain” their identity to others. This will have made reaffirming the validity of their sexuality to themselves easier too. If we couple this with increasing self-awareness of an identity that gives meaning to attractions (or lack thereof), the positive well-being identified for this group is understandable.</p>
<p>While it could be argued that the same should be true of bisexuals, there is a significant difference between bisexuality and “other” identities. Bisexuality is an identity that has existed significantly longer and was part of the original LGBT movement. And yet the greater minority stress experienced by bisexuals is likely a reflection of how they <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4283842/">experience stigmatisation</a> from both heterosexual and homosexual communities through <a href="https://www.bustle.com/p/5-myths-about-bisexuality-that-contribute-to-bi-erasure-2418689">bi-erasure</a> and lack of acceptance of bisexuality.</p>
<p>Overall our research shows that people with a minority sexual identity are on average less satisfied with their lives, but across the distribution of well-being a more positive picture emerges. If we look at other research into the different societal attitudes and growing acceptance towards certain sexual identities, it is clear that being accepted is important. Facing ostracisation on the basis of your sexual identity has a large negative impact on how satisfied you are with your life.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/117110/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Samuel Mann receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC). Samuel Mann is a PhD Student at Swansea University affiliated with the Wales Institute of Social & Economic Research, Data & Methods. </span></em></p>Minority sexual identities are on average less satisfied with their lives — but being accepted is crucial to this.Samuel Mann, PhD Researcher in Sexual Orientation and Well-being, Swansea UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1168682019-05-13T15:25:08Z2019-05-13T15:25:08ZGentleman Jack: a gripping 19th-century tale of one woman’s bravery in sex and politics<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274142/original/file-20190513-183080-16bbeuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Suranne Jones as Gentleman Jack.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">BBC/Lookout Point/Jay Brooks</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>When Halifax historian Helena Whitbread was working on the diaries of Anne Lister, a 19th-century local landowner, in the 1980s she was surprised to discover that some sections of <a href="http://wyorksarchivestreasures.weebly.com/the-diaries-of-anne-lister.html">the diaries were written in code</a>.</p>
<p>It turned out that once decoded, these sections provided an astonishing source. They documented in detail, Lister’s explicit sexual activities <a href="https://www.annelister.co.uk/annes-lovers/">with a number of women</a>, which culminated in <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/resources/idt-sh/the_life_and_loves_of_anne_lister">her “marriage”</a> to Ann Walker in 1834 at Holy Trinity Church in York. Lister’s life and exploits are currently being celebrated in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7211618/">an HBO/BBC drama</a> starring Suranne Jones in the title role.</p>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=432&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=432&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=432&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=543&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=543&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274129/original/file-20190513-183077-1y0qtau.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=543&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">A previous TV production: The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Secret_Diaries_of_Miss_Anne_Lister#/media/File:The_Secret_Diaries_of-Miss.jpg">BBC Pictures</a></span>
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<p>While it is extraordinary to find material which shatters traditional ideas and beliefs about 19th-century women and their sexuality, there is more to Lister than her lesbianism. She was an astute landowner, developer, mountaineer and politician. Her refusal to bow to public conventions regarding her sexuality (she dressed in a “masculine” fashion, celebrated her liaisons publicly, and was known locally as “Gentleman Jack”) were equally relevant to other areas of her life, in particular her politics.</p>
<p>From an early age Lister had shown a lively interest in current affairs, and she remained an active and committed Tory all her life. But it was her succession to the <a href="https://www.yorkshirepost.co.uk/heritage/gentleman-jack-inside-shibden-hall-anne-lister-s-yorkshire-home-that-you-can-visit-1-9762979">Shibden Hall estate in Halifax</a> in 1826 that meant she had the money, power and influence to indulge her passion for politics. The <a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/politics/g6/">1832 Reform Act</a> provided the borough of Halifax with two seats and from the outset was dominated by the local Liberal interest, with radicals also having a foothold. Charles Wood, later Viscount Halifax, <a href="https://archiveshub.jisc.ac.uk/search/archives/d1fb15e7-2944-3a5d-a613-1e624e307736">first became MP in 1832</a> and remained the sitting member until 1865, first as a Whig but later as a Liberal. For the Tory party, this was not fertile ground.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=208&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=208&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=208&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=262&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=262&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/274138/original/file-20190513-183106-1id8seo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=262&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Shibden Hall in Halifax – home of Anne Lister.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/shibden-hall-halifax-west-yorkshire-uk-698584261?src=Dfk5E2VyjRF1HxAAa56WIg-1-6">Alastair Wallace/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>The scale of the task did not discourage Lister and she set about building up a Conservative electorate in the town, primarily by letting tenancies on her estate and that of Walker, to Tory voters. Her diary explains her efforts in detail, relating conversations with her tenants. For example:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Told AG I did not want anyone to change his vote against his conscience for me, but I had made up my mind to take none but blue tenants so long as there remained people of this way of thinking; and when there were none I must try to change myself.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As properties from the Shibden estate came to the end of their leases, Lister began to fill them with tenants who supported her political persuasion. One example was <a href="https://www.wyjs.org.uk/news/diaries-of-anne-lister-digitised/">the mortgaging and subsequent letting</a> of the Northgate Hotel in Halifax in 1835. This was an opportune moment to increase the number of Tory votes she could control, and that factor was clearly more important than the level of rental income that she would receive. </p>
<p>In an interview with a prospective tenant, she reduced the annual rent in return for the creation of seven Tory votes from the tenant’s staff. She canvassed her tenants directly, touring her estate during the run up to the elections, which ensured that they voted in support of the Tory candidate who throughout the 1830s was James Stuart-Wortley, youngest son of Baron Wharncliffe. </p>
<h2>Electioneering</h2>
<p>Lister was also involved in the more disreputable side of electioneering and appeared to have no qualms about threatening and carrying out evictions of tenants who refused to vote in accordance with her wishes. Although she employed a steward, she undertook the “persuasion” of her tenants herself.</p>
<p>She and her partner, Walker, refused to renew the tenancies of a number of voters who refused to cooperate with their political ambitions. Her diary for 1835, for example, related an encounter with one of Walker’s tenants who refused to change his vote: “We came away, she determined to quit the people and I quite agreeing she was right.” </p>
<p>Her efforts were rewarded in 1835, when the unthinkable happened and James Stuart-Wortley took one of the Halifax seats by just one vote. Her energy and commitment to the creation of votes and lobbying of tenants had turned a solidly Liberal borough into one where the Tories had the potential to succeed. </p>
<p>The resulting wave of disappointment in the town, especially among those with no vote, <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=_JQwAQAAMAAJ&lpg=PA313&ots=akwpjQcHHQ&dq=halifax%20election%20riot%201835&pg=PA313#v=onepage&q=halifax%20election%20riot%201835&f=false">led to a riot</a> resulting in thousands of pounds worth of damage and several serious injuries. The following day, Lister walked down into Halifax and was confronted by a mob of women and boys:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>They asked if I was yellow … they looked capable of pelting me. ‘Nay!’ said I, ‘I’m black - I’m in mourning for the all the damage they have done’ - that seemed to amuse them and I walked quietly and quickly past.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Her bravery, then, was not merely in her open acknowledgement of her sexuality but also in her determination to establish a political interest which could include facing down a mob. Such ambition may appear unremarkable for men of the period, but the accepted narrative of the politics of 19th-century women, is to consider they had no influence at all. The activities of Gentleman Jack demonstrate the need to rewrite and reassess that perspective.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/116868/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sarah Richardson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Often referred to as the first modern lesbian, Anne Lister had a lot of political ambition.Sarah Richardson, Associate Professor, Department of History, University of WarwickLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1100452019-01-25T15:38:30Z2019-01-25T15:38:30ZThe Favourite: at last we’re seeing lesbianism take centre stage in popular culture<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255557/original/file-20190125-108367-11vugo3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">20th Century Fox</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Three of the most visible popular cultural texts of the past few months, the multiple-Oscar-tipped period film <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/dec/30/the-favourite-review-olivia-colman-emma-stone-rachel-weisz-yorgos-lanthimos">The Favourite</a>, Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s BBC crime drama <a href="https://theconversation.com/killing-eve-twisting-the-spy-genre-with-comedy-tragedy-and-strong-women-103809">Killing Eve</a> and Sally Rooney’s bestselling debut novel <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jun/01/conversations-with-friends-by-sally-rooney-review">Conversations with Friends</a>, are evidence of a shift whereby queer female identities are at last gaining a modicum of mainstream exposure and legitimacy. </p>
<p>This change signals a much-needed move to bring the representation of Sapphism on a par with that of its male counterpart. While male stars from Oscar Wilde to David Bowie have made hip male gayness old news, lesbian icons are fewer and further between. Still frequently relegated to cult status, queer female figures in fiction have until recently been consigned to more literary or niche arthouse fare – such as Jeanette Winterson’s UK school-syllabus autobiographical novel <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/oct/20/jeanettewinterson">Oranges are Not the Only Fruit</a> (1985, later adapted for BBC Television) or “sophisticated” film dramas such as <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/News_Story/Critic_Review/Guardian_review/0,,1332467,00.html">My Summer of Love</a> (2004) or the French <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/richard-brody/the-sexual-politics-of-blue-is-the-warmest-color">Blue is the Warmest Colour</a> (2013).</p>
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<p>More recently, US/Iranian film-maker <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/aug/12/desiree-akhavan-miseducation-of-cameron-post-mainstream-queer-female-stories">Desiree Akhavan</a>’s cinema and television work, including the 2018 film The Miseducation of Cameron Post, has been trailblazing yet remains outside truly mainstream circuits. But the glut of extremely popular stories about female-female desire proliferating across media suggests that mass culture is finally catching up.</p>
<h2>Queer still means strange</h2>
<p>But the resistance to normalising lesbianism is still a long way from being overcome. Several <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/c1266aa8-6c69-11e7-bfeb-33fe0c5b7eaa">reviews</a> of Conversations with Friends, widely hailed as announcing the voice of a new generation, emphasise the book’s originality in interrogating the meaning of friendship in the contemporary era – where your girl buddy may double up as a lover.</p>
<p>Yet readers of the novel could be forgiven for thinking they had strayed into a 19th-century Gothic novel such as Jane Eyre, given the focus of its central plot on a heterosexual romance between a neurotic young woman and a handsome and physically imposing troubled strong and silent type. The romantic relationship between the book’s protagonist Frances and her close female friend Bobbi barely gets a look in. Encounters between them are not described with anything approaching the rapturous eroticism of lines such as: “He put his hand on my waist and I felt my whole body lift toward him”. This very old-fashioned description emphasises a binary approach to sex in hackneyed terms of male dominance and female submission.</p>
<p>Rooney has <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/books-conversations-with-friends-by-sally-rooney-gf8zlgsdp">frequently been compared to</a> Waller-Bridge (as well as Lena Dunham, all three being linked by a commendably down-to-earth approach to depicting the female body). Killing Eve also remains superficial, not to say gimmicky, in its depiction of lesbianism. An adaptation of Luke Jennings’s <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/978-0-316-51252-7">Codename Villanelle novella series</a>, the BBC drama is noteworthy for its woman-centric casting as well as its portrayal of a female serial killer played by Jodie Comer. Comer’s Villanelle is openly bisexual and the story’s key twist is that the mutual fascination that exists between her and her pursuer Eve (the Golden Globe-winning Sandra Oh) may be sexually motivated.</p>
<h2>New narratives</h2>
<p>Like Rooney, Waller-Bridge is innovative in thinking through the radical social implications of lesbianism’s expansion in fiction as well as life. Classical theories of narrative – including 20th-century Canadian literary theorist <a href="https://macblog.mcmaster.ca/fryeblog/2009/11/11/frye-and-homosexuality-contd/">Northrop Frye</a>’s influential account of Shakespearean comedy – have identified one of Western fiction’s key stories as based on the exchange of women between men (typically fathers and suitors). More recent commentators such as the cultural theorist <a href="https://www.cmu.edu/cas/people/shumway_david.html">David Shumway</a> or the feminist and queer theorist <a href="http://evekosofskysedgwick.net/biography/biography.html">Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick</a> have seen this narrative as a cornerstone of how Western culture understands itself. </p>
<p>Conversations with Friends and Killing Eve both see the subversive potential of women’s liberation from this framework, recognising lesbianism as a game-changer. Reducing international spy operations to a flirtation between women is gently revisionist in the context of male-dominated crime fiction. Yet Eve’s libido is never fully explored, her queerness caricatured as a phallic gesture of dominance when she stabs Villanelle in the stomach on a bed in the series’ final scene.</p>
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<p>Villanelle’s lesbian urges are meanwhile paired with and sometimes indistinguishable from murderous ones. This combination contributes to the series’ second key conceit, which relies on the incongruity between the actress Comer’s feminine appearance and attractiveness and her character Villanelle’s ruthlessness and psychopathy. </p>
<h2>Breaking taboos</h2>
<p>The Favourite stakes a claim to status as the most progressive of the recent texts in its representation of female queerness, at least in terms of the sheer significance it accords to lesbianism. Something like a post-MeToo riposte to the Henry VIII narrative as recently popularised by Wolf Hall, which saw the fate of the church altered by Henry’s desire for Anne Boleyn, the film suggests that Queen Anne may have decreed an end to conflict with France in order to please a female lover being bribed by an MP. Such a reimagining of history as a function of inter-female relations is bold. </p>
<p>Olivia Colman’s virtuoso performance as the reputedly lesbian Queen Anne is facilitated by delicious, taboo-busting lines, such as her retort to her long-term lover Lady Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz) that she doesn’t think she will send her new maid (Emma Stone) away because she enjoys having the latter’s tongue inside her. Merchant Ivory this is not.</p>
<p>Neither the queen’s infantile tendencies nor her maid’s scheming ways move very far from negative stereotypes of femininity. But these behaviours are positioned as reactions to an intolerable lot that in both cases is gender-specific – Anne has lost 11 children and her maid has been sold as a concubine. Moreover, casting such accomplished and popular actresses as the embodiment of female queer is itself a symbol of progress. </p>
<p>All these texts are moving in the right direction – and probably about as quickly as broad audiences will allow. After all, such fictions remain embedded within a (patriarchal) culture still keenly aware of the threats to the status quo that the mainstreaming of Sapphism implies.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/110045/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Mary Harrod receives funding from the British Academy.</span></em></p>The hit film about a lesbian Queen Anne is the latest in a wave of films, TV series and books which make woman on woman sexuality a central theme.Mary Harrod, Associate Professor (School of Modern Languages and Cultures), University of WarwickLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/783102017-05-26T14:48:02Z2017-05-26T14:48:02ZDjuna Barnes: the ‘lesbian’ writer who rejected lesbianism<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170868/original/file-20170524-31339-1tbwfx7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C107%2C399%2C277&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Writer Solita Solano and Djuna Barnes in Paris, 1920s.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=Special:Search&title=Special:Search&redirs=0&search=Djuna+Barnes&fulltext=Search&fulltext=Advanced+search&ns0=1&ns6=1&ns14=1&advanced=1&searchToken=1xlkda5js9pvi8tbp2zfer3ny#/media/File:Solita_Solano_und_Djuna_Barnes_in_Paris.jpg">Wikipedia Commons</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>“I’m not a lesbian, I just loved Thelma.” What did the modernist author Djuna Barnes mean by this? And why has this quote – in which the elderly Barnes managed to sound both closeted and confessional – become one of her best-known statements? </p>
<p>Barnes’s refusal to turn her love for the silverpoint artist Thelma Wood into a signifier of her identity has sometimes frustrated readers who seek to celebrate her as a major lesbian voice in 20th-century literature, while others have seized upon her statement to undermine attempts to “claim” Barnes as a lesbian writer.</p>
<p>Barnes had affairs with various women and men throughout her life, though the relationship with Wood seems to have affected her most profoundly. She referred <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Improper_Modernism.html?id=TDrTX0eRDmUC">to herself as</a> “the most famous unknown of the century” (another Barnes paradox), bemoaning the fact that most people knew the gossip but not the writing. </p>
<p>And the writing certainly poses certain challenges. Rich, intricate and darkly camp, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/mar/31/featuresreviews.guardianreview32">her modernist masterpiece Nightwood</a> (1936) demands (and rewards) our patience: “I have a narrative,” says Dr Matthew O’Connor, Nightwood’s cross-dressing, unlicensed gynaecologist, “but you will be hard pressed to find it.” Set in the bars, salons and empty churches of the Parisian demi-monde, Nightwood narrates the failed love affair between the American Nora Flood and the silent, androgynous Robin Vote, a story often interpreted as a fictional rendering of Barnes’s relationship with Wood.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=809&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1017&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1017&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170867/original/file-20170524-31324-18lzp6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1017&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Barnes the bohemian expat.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djuna_Barnes#/media/File:Djunabarnes.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Most negatively, we might read the “I’m not a lesbian” part of Barnes’s statement in the context of some of the overtly anti-feminist and homophobic statements <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1996/02/04/books/l-djuna-and-the-scholars-018988.html">she made in later life</a>. The Djuna Barnes of legend is the glamorous figure cutting a dash in cape and cloche among the bohemian expatriates of 1920s Paris. The elderly Barnes, transplanted from this liberal Left Bank to the Cold War US, is harder to like. She complained about a feminist bookstore using “Djuna” in its name <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1996/02/04/books/l-djuna-and-the-scholars-018988.html">and reputedly expressed</a> her disdain for women and lesbian writers to the doting male fans whose company she preferred.</p>
<p>Barnes’s resistance to the category of “lesbian” and even “woman” writer might be interpreted as a conscious strategy to align herself with the axis of modernist high culture she associated with James Joyce and, above all, her longtime correspondent and editor, T.S. Eliot. Such a positioning required that she downplay any autobiographical elements of her writing and assert the universal (read: heterosexual, non-feminine) perspective of her work, as Eliot in fact did in his cagey <a href="http://www.jstor.org/stable/23739272">Preface to Nightwood</a>.</p>
<p>Barnes’s biographer Philip Herring was working under the same premise when he posited <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Djuna.html?id=MVqwAAAAIAAJ&redir_esc=y">his book</a> as an attempt to end the “victim celebrations” of “a few <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1996/02/04/books/l-djuna-and-the-scholars-018970.html">ideological cosmetologists</a>” and to let Barnes “belong to all readers”. Like the other male critics who wished to “rescue” Barnes from the feminists and lesbians, Herring draws on comments of the “I just loved Thelma” variety for ammunition. </p>
<p>The implication that privileging some of Barnes’s later, more conservative comments over the rich depictions of queerness one finds in her works is not in itself an act of “ideological cosmetology” is pretty staggering. Those critics who wish to render invisible Barnes’ status as a woman who slept with women claim Barnes as one of their own – just as much as lesbian and feminist readers do.</p>
<h2>Queer politics</h2>
<p>However, there might be another interpretation of Barnes’s wish to emphasise her particular love for Wood over her identification with the label “lesbian”, one that chimes with the queerness of her fictional works. Identity categories provide a ground for political agency: they allow us to demand rights and recognition and they help us to find each other, to form alliances and communities. But they can also be used to contain and police us. Unlike earlier lesbian and gay movements, whose politics depended on the idea of visible identities, queer theory grew out of a critique of identity politics. </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=860&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=860&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=860&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1080&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1080&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170866/original/file-20170524-31324-lr0sra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1080&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cover illustration, The Trend magazine, by Djuna Barnes, issue of October 1914.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djuna_Barnes#/media/File:Cover_illustration_The_Trend_by_Djuna_Barnes_October_1914.jpg">Wikipedia/General Collection, Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Yale University</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Broadly speaking, while lesbian and gay historians have sought to locate forms of homosexuality in the past, to recover lost and usable histories, queer critics have tended to emphasise queerness’s more radical disruption of systems of representation, often understanding “sexual identity” as a contradiction in terms. “[Q]ueerness can never define an identity,” <a href="https://www.dukeupress.edu/no-future">writes queer theorist Lee Edelman</a>, “it can only ever disturb one”.</p>
<p>In her queer fiction, Barnes invites and thwarts her readers’ impulse to “identify” in both senses of the term. She playfully encourages her readers’ desires to find the queer in the text (perhaps to find themselves) yet refuses to represent any singular lesbian or gay identity. On a couple of occasions, she even pre-empts the late 20th-century habit of lesbian list-making or celebratory historical “outing” to which she would herself become subject. Yet her lists of historical women are designed to confuse, combining queerer names with those about whom no speculations have been made. Barnes piques, then frustrates, our desire to know.</p>
<p>This logic dominates her 1928 <em>roman à clef</em>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ladies_Almanack">Ladies Almanack</a>, which is less well-known than Nightwood but offers a decidedly more joyful vision of queer sex. Barnes’s bawdy, illustrated Almanack is inspired by the lesbian literary circle surrounding the Left Bank expatriate Natalie Clifford Barney, and chronicles the sexual adventures of the heroic Dame Evangeline Musset. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=788&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=788&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=788&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=990&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=990&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/170862/original/file-20170524-31322-5qgupn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=990&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cover of 1972 facsimile edition of Ladies Almanack.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ladies_Almanack#/media/File:Djuna_Barnes_-_Ladies_Almanack_cover.jpg">Wikipedia Commons</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In one sense, the Almanack invites us to read it as a work by, for, and about the lesbian woman – it’s almost like an early queer ’zine – and Barnes even hawked hand-coloured copies among her Left Bank community. Yet it ultimately refuses to define “the Lesbian”, because to do so would be to pursue the aims of the Almanack’s chief object of parody: the late 19th-century sexology that defined and medicalised homosexual desire. Barnes uses the astrological motifs of the Almanack to satirise the attempt to “diagnose” lesbianism as simply a form of quackery. </p>
<p>The ladies of Barnes’s Almanack enjoy plenty of queer sex, for sure, but they resist our classification as any particular identity: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>They swing between two Conditions like a Bell’s Clapper, that can never be said to be anywhere, neither in the centre, nor to the Side, for that which is always moving, is in no settled State long enough to be either damned or transfigured. </p>
</blockquote>
<figure>
<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/154361027" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Barnes’s fictional works deal with both the pleasures and problems of belonging to any group. And although her autobiographical pronouncements, which are sometimes disingenuous, often tongue-in-cheek, are no substitute for reading her work, even they end up speaking to the complex questioning of identity we find in her books. “I’m not a lesbian, I just loved Thelma” contains a tension that we might want to resolve, but in trying to resolve it we might end up missing the point.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/78310/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Julie Taylor received funding from the AHRC for her doctoral research on Djuna Barnes. </span></em></p>Unlike earlier lesbian and gay movements whose politics depended on visible identities, queer theory grew out of a critique of this – and perhaps that’s where Djuna Barnes sits.Julie Taylor, Senior Lecturer in American Studies/Literature, Northumbria University, NewcastleLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/569382016-04-04T11:18:02Z2016-04-04T11:18:02ZDesert Hearts: the 1986 film about lesbian awakening that gives Carol a run for its money<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117091/original/image-20160401-6827-riyheg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">BFI Flare: London LGBT Film Festival</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>It’s 1959, and Vivian, an immaculately manicured and tightly controlled English literature professor from Columbia University, is arriving in Reno, Nevada, to stay on her friend Frances’ ranch while waiting for her divorce to come through. Prospective divorcees have to be resident in Nevada for six weeks: long enough for Vivian to fall in love with casino change-girl and artist Cay, a friend of the family. It’s the beginning of an awakening.</p>
<p>This is <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089015/">Desert Hearts</a>, a 1986 film with striking parallels to last year’s hit <a href="https://theconversation.com/carol-review-stunning-1950s-tale-of-two-women-in-love-51148">Carol</a>. First shown 30 years ago at London’s first gay and lesbian film festival, it returned this year to <a href="http://www.bfi.org.uk/flare">BFI Flare</a>, serving up a heady mix of 1950s rock ‘n’ roll, casinos, cowboys, and lesbians. The success of Carol and the return of Desert Hearts reflects our need for stories that show not only the difficulties, hostility and discrimination faced by lesbians, but also offer up the possibility of honesty and love. </p>
<p>In recent years, several important lesbian films have both impressed critics and found box office success. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2278871/">Blue is the Warmest Colour</a> (2013) is probably the best known of these – an intense story of first love and the pain of a relationship’s breakdown. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0842926/">The Kids are All Right</a> (2010) was perhaps more unusual, about a long-established lesbian relationship and the challenges of bringing up children and staying in love. Lesbian films have become more mainstream since Desert Hearts was first released, but the film remains relevant today.</p>
<p>Desert Hearts was not an easy film to make. In the mid-1980s, director Donna Deitch sold her house to pay for the rights to the film’s soundtrack: Elvis Presley, Patsy Cline, Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash. Deitch had already raised a lot of the money to fund it herself. Casting agents told her no established film actresses would audition for the parts of Vivian or Cay. </p>
<p>Yet in 1986, the film got a glowing write-up in the Guardian “because it makes neither the usual appeal for tolerance nor proselytises”. Deitch said that she didn’t want to make an overtly political film; she wanted to make one “that didn’t end in a suicide or two suicides or a bisexual triangle”, one where you were “positively rooting for [the main characters] to be together at the end of the film”. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117093/original/image-20160401-6270-78bmhd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Feeling the heat.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">BFI Flare: London LGBT Film Festival</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But this was, of course, a political choice in itself. To set up the narrative so that we end up hoping that the two women can find a way to be honest with each other and themselves was a profoundly radical – and political – act. Deitch was, after all, making the film in the wake of the dramatic women’s liberation movement, which insisted that “<a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/5050/rahila-gupta/personal-is-political-journey-of-feminist-slogan">the personal is political</a>”. </p>
<p>The films Desert Hearts took as its counterpoint were works like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084489/">Personal Best</a>, Robert Towne’s 1982 movie about track athletes, which implied lesbianism was just a “phase”. Or <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0063185/">The Killing of Sister George</a>, a British production from 1968 in which Beryl Reid played an unpleasant, masculinised lesbian who bullied, molested and seduced her way through the film. Desert Hearts is none of these things: intense, wild, as strange and lovely as the Nevada desert. </p>
<p>When Desert Hearts first came out in 1986, Steve Jenkins wrote in Monthly Film Bulletin that the film failed to evoke the hostility lesbians faced in the 1950s. This seems unfair for two reasons. First, Cay might be comfortable with her sexuality and find acceptance among her friends, but she certainly experiences hostility and rejection – not least from Frances, who is, to all intents, her stepmother, but who struggles to see her sexuality as anything other than unnatural and disgusting. </p>
<p>The idea that 1950s America was an implacably hostile and violent environment in which to be gay also obscures as well as reveals. Gay liberation had been underway in the US for over 15 years by the time Desert Hearts came out – ever since <a href="http://www.civilrights.org/archives/2009/06/449-stonewall.html">the Stonewall riots</a> of 1969. But the explosive power of gay pride could sometimes obscure the fact that life was not always unrelentingly bleak and lonely for men and women who desired the same sex in the years before 1969. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117092/original/image-20160401-6780-jsoog1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Desert Hearts.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">BFI Flare: London LGBT Film Festival</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Desert Hearts gives a glimpse of the other side of the picture – it shows us unprejudiced characters, even in 1950s Nevada. There’s Cay’s best friend Silver, or the ranch-hand who jokes with Cay: “How you get all that traffic with no equipment beats me.” It is in this that the film, despite being 30 years old, is similar to last year’s <a href="https://theconversation.com/carol-review-stunning-1950s-tale-of-two-women-in-love-51148">Carol</a>, for which Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett were both nominated for Oscars. Carol, too, showed us quietly confident lesbians. It was one of Foucault’s great insights that the very persecution of a sexual minority could give that minority a heightened sense of identity and community.</p>
<p>Both films are based on books written in the 1950s and early 1960s – Desert of the Heart, by Jane Rule, published in 1964, and The Price of Salt, by Patricia Highsmith, published in 1952. Highsmith published under a pseudonym to avoid drawing criticism. Rule’s position as a lecturer came under threat because of the publication of the book. Yet despite the climate of homophobia in which they wrote, both were determined to write stories where lesbian characters were given the possibility of a happy ending. </p>
<p>And the need for lesbian love stories that aren’t doomed is just as great now as it was in 1952, 1964, or 1986. Rule, Highsmith and Deitch all anticipated our contemporary yearning for authenticity, self-expression and truthfulness. That is what makes these books and films so compelling and relevant today.</p>
<p>Director Deitch is <a href="http://donnadeitch.com/desert-hearts-2/">currently fundraising</a> for a “sequel” to Desert Hearts, to be set in Manhattan during the intense period of the women’s liberation movement, which was divided in the US – often quite viciously – over the issue of lesbianism. If it’s half as good as Desert Hearts, it’ll be worth watching.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/56938/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Florence Sutcliffe-Braithwaite does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The need for lesbian love stories that aren’t doomed is just as great now as it has ever been.Florence Sutcliffe-Braithwaite, Lecturer in History, UCLLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/511482015-11-30T12:14:42Z2015-11-30T12:14:42ZCarol review: stunning 1950s tale of two women in love<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103436/original/image-20151127-11640-14f5yz1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Carol and Therese in the store at Christmas time.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">STUDIOCANAL</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>An insistent clamour of bells and horns recurs throughout Carol, evoking the stifling, heavy atmosphere of conformity that overlay early 1950s America. An older woman, the wealthy, strikingly beautiful Carol (Cate Blanchett), starts an affair with young salesgirl and aspiring photographer, Therese (Rooney Mara). Carol is going through a divorce from her heavy-set, WASP-y husband, Harge (Kyle Chandler) – and at first it’s far from clear what either woman wants from the relationship. </p>
<p>The two meet in the toy department of a large store, where Carol is looking for a particular doll for her daughter, Rindy’s, Christmas present. In the event, the doll has sold out and Therese persuades Carol to buy her daughter a train set instead. But Carol leaves her gloves on the counter and, when Therese mails them back to her, Carol – for reasons that are delicately opaque – phones the department store to ask Therese if she can take her to lunch as a thank you. For Carol, though, the affair will turn out to be dangerous: her husband sets out to use evidence of her “moral failing” to claim sole custody of Rindy. </p>
<p>Carol is based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/the-national-book-review/essay-patricia-highsmiths_b_8643554.html">The Price of Salt</a>, which incorporated semi-autobiographical elements. The novel was originally published under the pseudonym Claire Morgan: 1950s America was not a time for an aspiring author to publish such a novel under her own name. Though it is not explicitly mentioned in the film, the 1950s saw the frenzy of McCarthyism sweep America – and homosexuality was almost as bad as communism in the eyes of McCarthy’s witch-hunters.</p>
<p>This was a period when different understandings of homosexuality could come into conflict. It could be seen as a “moral” (or immoral) choice. It could also be seen as a mental deficiency or illness – and by that definition, it could perhaps be “cured”. In one of the most moving scenes of the film, Carol’s lawyer seeks to suggest that through psychotherapy, she has in fact been “cured”, and is once more fit to have custody of Rindy. Much hinges in the emotional economy of the film on whether Carol will tell this lie about herself. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103455/original/image-20151127-11600-8lrof3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cate Blanchett is superb.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">STUDIOCANAL</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Lurid novels</h2>
<p>Though Highsmith published in 1952 under a pseudonym, novels about lesbianism were not as uncommon as we might expect in 1950s America. In fact, there were many lurid “pulp” fiction examples, the (ostensible) purpose of which was to warn women that lesbianism was perverted, degenerate, or evil; that lesbians ended up lost, lonely, and suicidal; that they were wracked by self-loathing. Typical were lines such as this from Edwin West’s <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=ZVbtBgAAQBAJ">Young and Innocent</a>, published in 1960: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>A sword of self-revulsion, carefully shielded, slipped its scabbard now for one second to stab deeply to the exposed core of her lesbianism.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The idea of lesbian love as a doomed affair appears earlier, too. <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk/2005/jan/02/books.gayrights">The Well of Loneliness</a>, a 1928 novel by British author Radclyffe Hall, presented lesbianism (or “inversion” as Hall thought of it) as natural, and not deserving of persecution. Yet Hall seemed to call on her audience to pity the unfortunate invert, who has only loneliness to look forward to.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/the-national-book-review/essay-patricia-highsmiths_b_8643554.html">The Price of Salt</a> – and, in the same way, Carol – avoids the faded trope of doomed lesbian love. This was what made The Price of Salt different from the “pulp” lesbian fiction of the 1950s. Exquisitely paced, the film does not attempt to offer a complete resolution; we dwell with the characters as their love affair unfolds, and witness in its full horror the consequences which follow for both. And without revealing too much, we’re left with a glimmer of the potential for future happiness.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103456/original/image-20151127-11637-1c2hdvs.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Rooney Mara.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">STUDIOCANAL</span></span>
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<h2>Spurning stereotypes</h2>
<p>But Carol isn’t just a film about lesbian love in the 1950s – it powerfully evokes the restrictions placed on all women in the America of that time. Gender shapes every aspect of Carol and Therese’s lives.</p>
<p>When the two women meet in the toy department, Carol is looking for a particular doll for Rindy, and Therese informs her of the doll’s attractive features: among them, the fact that it wees itself. Thus are little girls prepared for their role in life. </p>
<p>Later, Therese visits Carol at her home in New Jersey. There are lingering shots of the imposing house in the snow, the elegant drawing room with its tasteful Christmas tree, Carol wrapping Rindy’s train set by the fire, all serving to show us how little sense these scenes make when peopled by two women. These are the idealised images of an American family Christmas. They only work with a man in the picture, or about to arrive home, jovial and commanding, from a long day at work in the city. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/103454/original/image-20151127-11618-lz0a81.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Familiar scene.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">STUDIOCANAL</span></span>
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<p>It would have been easy to portray this missing man, Carol’s husband Harge, as nothing more than the stereotypically domineering, brutish husband. But this doesn’t happen. Even as he bullies and commands and demands and coerces, we get glimpses of his suffering, too. He appears to us as a man cut off from his emotions, and now suddenly, painfully deprived of one of the most important coordinates of his masculinity: his beautiful wife.</p>
<p>The film also does well not to present Carol and Therese as existing in a world with no lesbian subcultures. 1950s America was, despite (or perhaps because of) its frenzies of homophobia, the backdrop for the development of more clearly defined and self-conscious subcultures than had ever existed before. When Therese is checked out by two fashionably dressed young women, we get a glimpse into a hidden world where lesbians met each other relatively openly – playing on softball teams or frequenting gay bars.</p>
<p>In the end, though, this is really a film about Carol and Therese and the slow, cautious, confused, confusing unfolding of their love for each other. It is also about how they constitute themselves as individuals in a culture which attempts to profoundly restrict their ability as women to do that. </p>
<p>In not falling into any of the stereotypes or traps to be expected from it, Carol is highly, highly commended.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/51148/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Florence Sutcliffe-Braithwaite does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Carol doesn’t fall into any of the stereotypes we’ve come to expect from portrayals of lesbians on screen. Watch it.Florence Sutcliffe-Braithwaite, Lecturer in History, UCLLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/316882014-09-17T04:30:07Z2014-09-17T04:30:07ZBe a lesbian for a year if you must – but what about lesbians for life?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/59208/original/355s2pc4-1410912498.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Brooke Hemphill's book Lesbian for a Year has stirred new conversations about what it means to be a lesbian today.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Purple Sherbet/Flickr</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>I recently found myself at a bookshop at Sydney’s domestic airport with less than ten minutes until my plane boarded. Scanning around frantically for something to read, my eyes were immediately drawn to a new non-fiction book prominently placed at the shop’s entrance. </p>
<p>It wasn’t the splash of bright pink on the book’s cover that caught my attention. Rather, it was the book’s title: <a href="http://www.affirmpress.com.au/lesbian-for-a-year">Lesbian for a Year</a>. </p>
<p>The catchy title of journalist Brooke Hemphill’s book has resulted in a steady flow of publicity for the author since its release. Subsequent to my initial airport encounter with this book, I have heard radio segments discussing it and have also stumbled across a number of newspaper reviews exploring its premise.</p>
<p>The back cover of Lesbian for a Year sets out the book’s plot as follows: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>What happens when a young heterosexual woman wakes up one morning with a splitting hangover and a naked woman wrapped around her?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It is Brooke Hemphill’s decision to embark on a year exclusively dating women that forms the core of her book.</p>
<p>It’s clear from the blurb that Hemphill’s book is not interested in unravelling the broader social and political implications of what it means to be a lesbian or bisexual. This is a shame because <a href="https://theconversation.com/do-openly-gay-public-figures-like-ian-thorpe-matter-they-sure-do-29149">as I’ve written</a> elsewhere, social attitudes towards homosexuality have undergone a remarkable transformation in Australia over the past few decades and such a publication would be timely.</p>
<p>The book is also not concerned with untangling the impact of homophobia, the process of “coming out” which marks the gay and lesbian experience for many, or the role of a gay and lesbian community in contemporary society. It also does not consider the existence of biphobia, a prejudice that minimises the experiences of bisexual people.</p>
<p>Instead, Hemphill’s book is a casually written autobiography, taking the reader through her dating history, including relationships with women. It would be easy to dismiss this book as a titillating attempt to profit from broader social fascination with lesbianism. And there is no question that such a fascination exists. </p>
<p>Lesbians are of course a mainstay of the pornography industry, while still being underrepresented in other forms of media.</p>
<p>I would suggest the publishers of Hemphill’s book are keen to take advantage of heterosexual curiosity about lesbianism. The title is unfortunate for the reason that many younger people coming out as lesbian (or gay, bisexual, transgender or queer) are treated as though their orientation is phase they are going through, rather than a meaningful and enduring form of sexuality. </p>
<p>A title suggesting the author’s lesbianism is a passing fancy surely will not help in challenging this prejudice.</p>
<p>The bright pink title on the front cover stresses only two elements of Hemphill’s recent history for the browsing reader. First, her exploration of lesbianism. Second, it implies there is a temporal limit on this exploration by the inclusion of the “for a year” phrase. The back blurb also makes it clear the same-sex encounter that sparked her year of lesbianism occurred under the influence of alcohol.</p>
<p>It could be argued that with this title, Hemphill has presented a non-threatening and socially acceptable form of lesbianism to the general reader. The author’s dating history, we learn, includes serious relationships with men, and the text emphasises her conventional attractiveness at a number of points. The author also ends up falling in love with a man at the book’s conclusion.</p>
<p>The title and blurb has sparked considerable debate across Twitter and other online forums over whether the book is a legitimate examination of the author’s sexual and romantic experiences or an attempt to profit off her “tourism” through lesbian culture.</p>
<p>Twitter user PearlandDragon <a href="https://twitter.com/PearlandDragon/status/509248458377547777">tweeted</a>: “I like the idea of dating a tidy, organised person (ie. A woman) but I don’t think a gay gap year is fair on the other person.” </p>
<p>Neil Way also expressed criticism of the book’s premise over Twitter, <a href="https://twitter.com/neil_way/status/509247662315433985">declaring</a>: “I’m a proud gay man and I wouldn’t agree with the reverse of this. Not sure why straight males or females would either.”</p>
<p>It is difficult to gauge Hemphill’s intentions.</p>
<p>But the debate surrounding this book does serve at least two purposes. It provides a window into the way lesbianism is viewed by a contemporary Australian public; and it illustrates shifting views on sexual identity more broadly.</p>
<p>I don’t believe Hemphill’s manuscript would have been published in its current format a decade ago. Back in 2004, when John Howard amended the Marriage Act to prevent same-sex couples from marrying, it would have been very difficult to have imagined a book with the word “lesbian” in the title being prominently and nonchalantly displayed in airport bookstores.</p>
<p>Today, same-sex marriage has majority public support and television programmes such as Orange is the New Black, which shows a number of lesbian relationships, appear to be popular with viewers of all sexual orientations.</p>
<p>While it is not marketed as such, Hemphill’s book is also instructive because it shows the way a number of younger Australians are starting to think beyond the categories of “gay” and “straight”. While this seems to have eluded the publishers, who have prominently used the word “lesbian” to promote the book, Hemphill herself points out the complexity of human sexuality and her experiences seem to be somewhat emblematic of a “post-gay” world where categories of sexual identity are not necessary for some.</p>
<p>I have to confess to being ambivalent about this book. Perhaps the fact a book with the word “lesbian” in the title has received mainstream distribution is positive. I fear though, that the book is popular because it presents a particular, non-challenging (and indeed narrow) idea of what lesbianism is. </p>
<p>The next time I am at the airport, I would love to see a book exploring what it is like to be a lesbian for life, rather than a year.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/31688/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Shirleene Robinson receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>I recently found myself at a bookshop at Sydney’s domestic airport with less than ten minutes until my plane boarded. Scanning around frantically for something to read, my eyes were immediately drawn to…Shirleene Robinson, Vice Chancellor's Innovation Fellow, Macquarie UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/284512014-07-02T02:03:55Z2014-07-02T02:03:55ZGirl crush anyone? The evolution of ‘lesbian chic’<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/52178/original/vmgyxwqn-1403673988.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">It's worth considering how seemingly open language can be exclusionary.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wagner Macedo</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>At first blush, the increased visibility of sexual minorities in popular culture would appear to reflect a growing openness and acceptance of non-heterosexual forms of sexuality. </p>
<p>Since the late 1990s, media portrayals of lesbian desire in particular have proliferated in works as diverse as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0264761/">Kissing Jessica Stein</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1578873/">Pretty Little Liars</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108778/">Friends</a> and The <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0330251/">L-Word</a>. This suggests a rising level of public comfort with women’s same-sex sexuality. </p>
<p>In recent years, the playful use of the term “girl crush” in pop culture to denote one woman’s admiration or respect for another woman seems to point to a greater ease with homosexual relations. </p>
<p>It looks like a taboo has been lifted – but is that actually the case? Well, no. Greater visibility of women’s same-sex desire on the surface resembles progress; peel back that surface layer and a considerable level of complexity emerges.</p>
<h2>Read all about same-sex desire</h2>
<p>By observing changes in the representation of women’s same-sex sexuality in women’s magazines over time, new parameters within which lesbian desire is socially sanctioned become apparent.</p>
<p>Women’s magazines, such as <a href="http://www.cleo.com.au/">Cleo</a> and <a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/">Cosmopolitan</a> in Australia, represent a unique space for discussions of sexuality. Such magazines employ an intimate, yet authoritative tone with their readers. </p>
<p>They are replete with sexual messages and advice, and they are <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/media/2006/mar/22/pressandpublishing.broadcasting">frequently identified</a> as key sites of sexual socialisation. Although magazine sales have certainly been affected by the rise of online media, in Australia both Cleo and Cosmopolitan have worked hard to integrate digital technology. </p>
<p>In a competitive, digital media landscape, women’s magazines must provide content that is relevant and appealing to their target demographic: young women and girls. As such, these magazines are both barometers of popular culture and conduits through which mainstream ideas and values are disseminated.</p>
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<h2>The rise of ‘lesbian chic’</h2>
<p>In the 1990s, we saw a distinct shift in the way that Cleo and Cosmopolitan addressed women’s same-sex sexuality. The educative or factual coverage of lesbianism and bisexuality that characterised the magazines in the 1970s and 1980s gave way to a more sensational coverage of “lesbian chic”. </p>
<p>In an article from the October 1993 edition of Cleo, “lesbian chic”, or the phenomenon of “Ostensibly Heterosexual” women (often celebrities) dabbling in lesbian desire is described as “the new sexual revolution”. The magazine calls it the latest “fashion statement” – with “a gorgeous pouting gal-pal” labelled the hottest new “designer accessor[y]”. </p>
<p>This is a far cry from references to lesbianism in the magazines from the previous two decades. Earlier references are steeped in the politics of social change and are often located in social commentary articles or advice columns.</p>
<p>In women’s magazines from the early 2000s, the “lesbian chic” of the 1990s evolves into what feminist researchers have dubbed “<a href="https://wiki.ubc.ca/Heteroflexibility">heteroflexibility</a>” – or the performance of lesbian eroticism to garner male attention.</p>
<h2>Straightening up same-sex desire</h2>
<p>An article from the November 2003 issue of Cleo entitled <a href="http://connection.ebscohost.com/c/articles/12875582/girl-girl-sex-fessions">Girl-on-Girl Sexfessions</a> offers “erotic real-life reads” and “graphic lesbian scenarios” alongside “girlie tricks to try at home with him!”. </p>
<p>Lesbian sexuality in this configuration is presented as an erotic playground for heterosexual women – to titillate their male partners.</p>
<p>This eroticisation of women’s same-sex sexuality appears to have ebbed somewhat in contemporary editions of Cleo and Cosmopolitan from 2013, replaced instead by the frequent use of the term “girl crush”. </p>
<p>This term is not restricted to the realm of women’s magazines. It is strewn throughout popular culture. A glance at social media or fashion blogs confirms the term’s currency, while its <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=girl%20crush">Urban Dictionary</a> and <a href="http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/girl-crush">Oxford Dictionary Online</a> entries demonstrate its ubiquity. </p>
<p>In the contemporary editions of Cleo and Cosmopolitan, the phrase is used in a way which suggests all women can participate in the “girl crush”. An <a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/celebrity/girl-crush/2013/5/little-miss-adorkable/">interview</a> with Zooey Deschanel in the July 2013 edition of Australian Cosmopolitan asks the actress to name the celebrity she has “a total girl crush on”.</p>
<p>That the “girl crush” has become a routine question to be asked of celebrities demonstrates its pervasiveness and normalisation.</p>
<h2>Is the girl crush good news?</h2>
<p>But what does this evolution in pop-culture understandings of lesbian desire mean? </p>
<p>The increased level of comfort with lesbian sexuality embodied in the casual use of the phrase “girl crush” in contemporary mainstream women’s magazines might look like a sign that attitudes towards lesbians and gays have lightened up. </p>
<p>Yet it also arguably serves to trivialise lesbianism as a functioning form of sexuality and legitimate sexual identity. </p>
<p>A “girl crush” presents a form of “lesbian-lite” that is stripped of its sexual or emotional meaning. It’s as if all heterosexual women can participate in a “girl crush” without the stigma of genuine lesbian desire. </p>
<p>This perhaps underscores a lingering anxiety around women’s same-sex sexuality. It can even work as a form of veiled homophobia analogous to the use of the phrase “no homo” among young men wishing to distance themselves from homosexuality.</p>
<p>The journey through “lesbian chic” and “heteroflexibility” to the “girl crush” serves increasingly to strip lesbianism and bisexuality of their sexual or emotional desire. Instead, same-sex attraction is reconfigured within heterosexuality. </p>
<p>This further marginalises those women who may identify as part of a sexual minority group. Not only are they excluded from fully participating in the mainstream, heterosexual world, they are excluded from a socially sanctioned performance of same-sex desire.</p>
<p>Although those talking about “girl crushes” and heteroflexibility are doing so without malice, it’s worth considering how language like this can actually be exclusionary. By identifying these trends as a form of false openness, we can begin to talk about more inclusive or progressive ways to represent sexual minorities within mainstream culture.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/28451/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kate Farhall does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>At first blush, the increased visibility of sexual minorities in popular culture would appear to reflect a growing openness and acceptance of non-heterosexual forms of sexuality. Since the late 1990s…Kate Farhall, PhD Candidate in the School of Social & Political Sciences, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.