I used to think I’d been born too late. For the first half of my twenties, I wished that I could have been part of the women’s liberation movement. The second wave discussed compulsory heterosexuality, examined the sexual politics of patriarchy. Whereas I grew up during the third wave, when discussions of sexual politics were often reduced to whether pole dancing or pornography could ‘empower’ women.
Yes, I wanted to be part of modern efforts to build a feminist future. I invested time, energy, and creativity in feminist communities of the present day. But, for a long time, I ached from a longing so fierce that I could only admit to it once the feeling had passed.
If by some miracle the TARDIS had shown up on my doorstep and the Doctor asked me to travel through space and time, I wouldn’t bother with intergalactic adventures. The chance to meet aliens and explore new planets pales in comparison to the opportunity of going back to the heyday of the women’s liberation movement; being part of its thriving lesbian feminist community.
I’d spend hours of my time – and quite possibly all of my money – in Silver Moon, the feminist bookshop whose name was inspired by Sappho’s poetry. I’d go along to the community centres where the Lesbian History Group met, and simply bask in the joy of sitting in a room full of lesbians looking to connect with our heritage. I’d never miss a meeting of the Black Lesbian Group, a sapphic offshoot from OWAAD (Organisation of Women of African and Asian Descent), or the Camden Lesbian Group. I’d go to the Zami I & II – conferences for Black lesbians across Britain. If only I had the TARDIS.
Silver Moon Women’s Bookshop in the Charing Cross Road. Photo by Jane Cholmeley, co-founder of Silver Moon (Twitter).
From where I’m sitting, the ‘70s and ‘80s looks like a golden age of Black lesbian spaces. Imagine having more than one Black lesbian group to choose from! Nowadays, we’re all expected to huddle under the umbrella of LGBTPoC or, increasingly, QTIPoC (Queer, Trans, and Intersex People of Colour). Perhaps because white-led organisations have the majority of resources and funding. But ‘LGBTPoC’ is a broad church, home to a wide variety of needs and interests – at times contradictory.
I’d spend hours of my time – and quite possibly all of my money – in Silver Moon, the feminist bookshop whose name was inspired by Sappho’s poetry. I’d go along to the community centres where the Lesbian History Group met, and simply bask in the joy of sitting in a room full of lesbians looking to connect with our heritage. I’d never miss a meeting of the Black Lesbian Group, a sapphic offshoot from OWAAD (Organisation of Women of African and Asian Descent), or the Camden Lesbian Group.
I think there is now less scope for our distinct needs to be acknowledged or met within community spaces; that this rich tapestry of human experience is being crumpled tight by the expectation of sameness and conformity. And although intersectionality has become something of a queer buzzword, there is a steadily narrowing scope for lesbians to talk about what it’s like to exist in the intersection of womanhood and gayness – especially when we’re met with misogyny in LGBT community settings.
Yes, I know there are worthwhile LGBT spaces now. I love new bookshops like Category Is in Glasgow, and pioneers such as Gay’s the Word in London. These are magical spaces, which can and should be treasured by the community. But, like the majority of LGBT spaces, they’re not woman-centric. And although the ‘L’ appears first in the acronym, nowadays it often feels like we come last in terms of recognition and affirmation.
Women still have a long way to go until we are free – lesbians in particular. Yet nowadays woman-only space and lesbian separatism are both seen as evidence of bigotry rather than an escape from it. The beauty of the second-wave spaces I’ve described is that they were all unapologetically woman-centric – and, often, lesbian was the default rather than the exception.
“Not a Passing Phase” by the Lesbian History Group
I recently went to a lecture about the tensions between lesbian and queer histories. Professor Rosemary Auchmuty, co-founder of the Lesbian History Group, said it was established with the goal of “giving ourselves a heritage, validating our existence, and empowering lesbians.” Her description of lesbians looking for a space to connect and learn with one another resonated across generations. More than that, it made me think of other lesbians looking for the same thing in the here and now.
Labrys Lit is a book group by, for, and about lesbians. Every month we read a new novel, short story collection, or memoir written by a lesbian author. And then we meet up on Zoom for a chat about the book – what we enjoyed, which bits resonated, and the characters we fell in love with. Where possible, the author will join our discussion.
It was then I realised: either I could revisit that old longing for the past, or I could build something worthwhile for present (and possibly future) generations of lesbians. I chose the latter path. After a whirlwind of brainstorming, planning, and excited phone calls with Lisa-Marie Taylor (FiliA’s CEO), Labrys Lit Book Group was born. Though I missed one golden age of lesbian spaces, I’m determined to be part of building another.
Labrys Lit is a book group by, for, and about lesbians. Every month we read a new novel, short story collection, or memoir written by a lesbian author. And then we meet up on Zoom for a chat about the book – what we enjoyed, which bits resonated, and the characters we fell in love with. Where possible, the author will join our discussion.
I founded Labrys Lit to connect lesbians with a rich cultural legacy that – owing to how deeply rooted misogyny and homophobia are in this society – women are still discouraged from pursuing. Reading lesbian books affirms the way we live and love, and recognises the value of lesbian women’s perspectives. And I believe that this representation is of vital importance. So, apparently, do our members. It’s been less than a week since the announcement went live, and already more than 40 women have signed up.
Join us here: https://filia.org.uk/lesbian-book-club
Claire Heuchan is an author, essayist, and Black radical feminist. She writes the award-winning blog, Sister Outrider.
You should do film as well perhaps.
The word "Lesbian" should always, always be capitalized. I'm just saying.