An Archive of Feelings: Trauma, Sexuality, and Lesbian Public Cultures (Series Q)

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In the early 90s, I went to an all-girls secondary school not far outside of London. At that time, one of the worst accusations you could receive from your so-called classmates was of being a ‘lezzzzzbian’. The word itself was always elongated, always said in a certain tone and always accompanied by a look of, at best, distain, at worst, disgust. It seemed like so many of the girls were determined to attach the ‘lesbian label’ to someone else as fast as possible, so that they wouldn’t be ‘lumbered’ with it themselves. To me, being a lesbian in 2022 is about coming up from the basement, smiling at one another in lesbian spaces, having hipsters steal our haircuts and plaid shirts, yummy mummies steal our diets, and getting to hate on the L Word (yet watch it religiously) a second time around! When I was younger, ‘lesbian’ was always spat at me as a slur in a spiteful and disgusted tone. Otherwise, it was seen as a dirty word – highly sexualised and muttered under your breath. Since 2018, many things have changed for me: I’ve adopted a dog, bought my first home, and got engaged to my girlfriend of five years. I never imaged all of these things would happen to me. Growing up, I never saw people like me – I knew no LGBT people until my early twenties. And what I learnt from TV was that all lesbians looked one way, and we largely all got killed off in the end.

I remember one maths class when I had a new metal ‘Friends’ pencil tin featuring a photograph of the whole crew sipping milkshakes. The girl who sat next to me spent the whole lesson telling me it was really weird that I had women on my pencil case. That having women on my pencil case must mean I was a lesbian. Why was a lesbian? Why? Why did I want women on my pencil case? Did I have a thing about girls? I binned the pencil case that day and replaced it with something innocuous. The first people I came out to were teammates. Some were queer women themselves; many were allies. They supported me the same way we supported each other on the pitch: with loyalty and a lot of laughter.We’d love to show you how your support is helping LGBTQ+ people everywhere to thrive. We need your consent to share news, campaigns, events and ways in which you can further support this important work.

It took me years to accept ‘lesbian’ as a label. Even now it can make me feel uncomfortable, but I try to embrace it as an act of defiance.This week, we want to celebrate the diversity and lived experience of lesbians worldwide, and help us all feel proud of who we are. 1. “Growing up, I never saw people like me.” – Katie At the same time as I struggled with my sexuality as a teenager, I was also finding my home in the camaraderie and friendship of team sport. I had a safe environment where I could express myself physically and support my friends in a common goal.

It means choice and freedom – of identity, expression, to love, marry, have families, be political, be sexual, be powerful, to empower, to exist. It is about sisterhood. I often think about the huge difference it would have made for me to have had even one visible lesbian role model at that time – ideally in real life, but even just on TV! That’s why I strive to be proud and visible as much as I can. You never know who might need it and you never know who you could help, just by being yourself. 3. “My gender, my sexuality, they’re just that: mine” – Liz Stonewall is proud to provide information, support and guidance on LGBTQ+ inclusion; working towards a world where we're all free to be. This does not constitute legal advice, and is not intended to be a substitute for legal counsel on any subject matter.

For me, Lesbian Visibility Week is about the joy of seeing younger girls expressing themselves in a way that I never could at their age (despite my history of wearing Extremely Gay Outfits from birth!).