“The hushing up of who we have been leaves us no history of ourselves as a people. We don’t know who our heroines were, who of us rebelled in spectacular ways, who lived in long fruitful relationships. We have no role models to point to, no one to learn from. Being without a history makes each of us believe that she is alone, that the terrain of lesbianism is new uncharted territory which she must learn to navigate on her own by herself.”
These words were written by Colette Reid in 1976. She was speaking to and about those of us who grew up in the 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. (Younger lesbian women have had an easier time of it, in today’s world where the gay lifestyle is more generally recognized.)
In my early years, I did find myself “travelling through uncharted territory” and I did feel totally alone. My first act as a lesbian at age 12 was a defining moment that set the course for the rest of my life. At about that same time I realized that I could not and would not follow the path of marriage and motherhood as all the females around me were doing. I shunned all the trappings of femininity and, consequently, as a young teenager I was a recluse and an outcast among my peers and a cause of consternation for my mother, my older sister, my aunts, and other women.
Then I read about nuns who lived in religious communities. I saw them as asexual beings who had managed to escape the lot of most women and who had a sure ticket to heaven. At age 15, I entered the convent and became a nun. I naively believed I was entering a “community of women” where I could, at last, be free to be myself. Little did I know at the time, that I was entering the very heart of patriarchy where women were totally subservient to men, and where love among women, other than as “sisters in Christ”, was taboo. For me, life in the convent was soul-destroying; it literally drove me crazy.
I left the convent after 12 years. I spent the next several years going in and out of psychiatric wards and mental hospitals. I will spare you the details of my prolonged depression, self-mutilation, and suicide attempts and the prescribed treatment of the day: locked wards, electric shock treatment, aversive therapy, psychotropic drugs.
In the early 70s, I happened to come across a book about “women loving women”. At last I had a name for myself! I was a lesbian! There were others like me! It felt like coming home! I began to search for other women like myself. In 1980, I moved to Victoria which, even then, was known as a mecca for lesbians. It was amazing – they were all around me.
I spent the next 25 years living as an “out” lesbian in a heterosexual world. Many of my adventures during that time have yet to be told. Now I have come full circle. I am back in Victoria where I spend time in “the company of women”. Every Wednesday, here in Victoria, I meet with a group of women. We are, for the most part, veteran lesbians. We have been in the war zone and each of us has our battle scars and war stories.
“Yes, we do carry the scars and pain of old wounds, but we are visionaries who believe fiercely in the power of the spirit to heal and transform ourselves and the world”.
These words were written by Colette Reid in 1976. She was speaking to and about those of us who grew up in the 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. (Younger lesbian women have had an easier time of it, in today’s world where the gay lifestyle is more generally recognized.)
In my early years, I did find myself “travelling through uncharted territory” and I did feel totally alone. My first act as a lesbian at age 12 was a defining moment that set the course for the rest of my life. At about that same time I realized that I could not and would not follow the path of marriage and motherhood as all the females around me were doing. I shunned all the trappings of femininity and, consequently, as a young teenager I was a recluse and an outcast among my peers and a cause of consternation for my mother, my older sister, my aunts, and other women.
Then I read about nuns who lived in religious communities. I saw them as asexual beings who had managed to escape the lot of most women and who had a sure ticket to heaven. At age 15, I entered the convent and became a nun. I naively believed I was entering a “community of women” where I could, at last, be free to be myself. Little did I know at the time, that I was entering the very heart of patriarchy where women were totally subservient to men, and where love among women, other than as “sisters in Christ”, was taboo. For me, life in the convent was soul-destroying; it literally drove me crazy.
I left the convent after 12 years. I spent the next several years going in and out of psychiatric wards and mental hospitals. I will spare you the details of my prolonged depression, self-mutilation, and suicide attempts and the prescribed treatment of the day: locked wards, electric shock treatment, aversive therapy, psychotropic drugs.
In the early 70s, I happened to come across a book about “women loving women”. At last I had a name for myself! I was a lesbian! There were others like me! It felt like coming home! I began to search for other women like myself. In 1980, I moved to Victoria which, even then, was known as a mecca for lesbians. It was amazing – they were all around me.
I spent the next 25 years living as an “out” lesbian in a heterosexual world. Many of my adventures during that time have yet to be told. Now I have come full circle. I am back in Victoria where I spend time in “the company of women”. Every Wednesday, here in Victoria, I meet with a group of women. We are, for the most part, veteran lesbians. We have been in the war zone and each of us has our battle scars and war stories.
“Yes, we do carry the scars and pain of old wounds, but we are visionaries who believe fiercely in the power of the spirit to heal and transform ourselves and the world”.
