This chill girl has a bone to pick…and it’s not from the Swings happy hour deal. I will seek to go about my critique in the most sensitive, self-aware fashion possible, but I may adopt an opp or two. I’d like to take up an ambiguity that has been artificially adopted by heterosexuals at Wesleyan and beyond. Pause for a moment as this bitter feeling towards straight people sinks me into impossible introspection in fear that it will define me as “Angry Bitter Man-Hating Raging Lesbian.” The irony is the more I follow the lesbian lifeline, as coined by Sara Ahmed, the less I hate men and the more I hate women! Before you label me a “pick-me,” let me spill.

I’d like to exclude no-nonsense straight women, those who are just upfront about their sexuality (to all of my dear friends, you can breathe), from my critique. Listen, everyone is subject to curiosities about same-sexcapades. As much as uncomfortable, and possibly closeted, men may deny it, it’s human nature to ponder one’s potential gayness. But straight women who lean too deep into “experiment” territory freak me out. As a woman in STEM, I know too well that experiments are meant to be calculated and controlled. There is always a final result in mind that the true results will either match or stray from. If the most likely result in a woman’s mind is that she isn’t going to enjoy having sex with a woman in the first place, WHY THE FUCK WOULD SHE GO DO IT ANYWAY? 

I try to save grace for the internalized homophobic instincts of questioning women, which may guide them toward heterosexual behavior. I, too, have been directed towards boys and men my whole life. I, too, fail to identify with hyper-stereotypical depictions of gay women. A friend recently brought to my attention that I had “hooked up with some of the most attractive men at Wesleyan and then said, ‘Sike, I’m gay.’”

I don’t have a true need for a carabiner (and I don’t think many of you guys do either, besides janitors and woodshop monitors). I used to have blue hair and a pixie cut, but when a picture of me with it showed up in my friend’s Bat Mitzvah montage, the boys in my grade made fun of me for having a “lesbian haircut.” I can still feel my stomach dropping in embarrassment, and even saying I’m lesbian now has yet to roll off my tongue naturally. “Bisexual” felt more right, but I think that was because it offered the possibility of something hetero—except when that possibility sparked obvious excitement in the eyes of guys around me. Most people get turned on by what they are not supposed to get turned on by. I once exploited that phenomenon to feel cool and empowered. There is something to be said about feeling empowered by male validation, and I acknowledge the chokehold that has on potentially queer women.

Despite this, I just don’t consider men to be involved at all in any lesbian experience I’ve ever had, regardless of how much they might think they are. I’m jealous of the ease men feel in thinking they can jump into any sexual situation and be at home. (This is very obviously a generalization, but it rings true for many.) The nuance that I feel is lacking is the involvement of straight or bisexual women in the equation. The “my boyfriend says it’s not cheating if it’s with a girl.” The “we saw you from across the room, and we like your vibe.” Someone I know recently remarked, “the straightest girls on this campus are on girl Tinder.” As someone who has never taken Tinder seriously, that still makes me politely livid. The only reason I used to use Tinder was to see who the gay bitches were, and now a straight woman is telling me that strategy was completely wrong.

I don’t care if you have a gay-ass haircut, why aren’t you munching on gay-ass box??! Calling your boyfriend your “partner” to queer your heterosexual relationship does not hide the fact that you are dating a man. We need to stop conflating being quirked up with being queer, especially if you could have married the person you choose before 2011.

There is a lot more to be said about these dynamics at Wesleyan, and I recognize my individual experience might be short-sighted and not easily applicable to all queer women on this campus. Also, this take is very hot and hyperbolic, so any opposition (be it well backed-up) is completely encouraged. Hit me! If you are perhaps a part of the choir I might be preaching to, also feel free to hit me up for a gab; I’d love to hear other lesbian/queer musings.

Thanks for your consideration,

Ms. Jealous Spiteful Yappy Lesbian<3

Sylvia Maxwell is a member of the class of 2025 and can be reached at smaxwell@wesleyan.edu.