If I seem a bit disconcerted, please forgive me: for I have recently
been made to acknowlege that I am in fact, a Chicana...and not only a
Chicana, but a Lesbian Chicana. The discovery was made in an innocent
enough fashion. I was 'frappin & rappin', as is my wont.
I was talking to the Bearded Guy about my childhood. After a series of
stories, I finally told him about a couple of incidents that happened
in High School concerning some transfer students from a mostly
non-white area of Phoenix. I said, "I don't know why it made me so mad
then, and still pisses me off a little, twenty-five years later." He
smiled at me and said, "It's because they didn't recognise that you
were Hispanic, too." I cocked an eyebrow disdainfully as he continued,
"Let's face it, your grade school was almost 3/4 Hispanic Catholics,
right?" I nodded. Your entire NEIGHBORHOOD was about the same and you
didn't play with any of the anglo kids that didn't go to your school,
did you?" I shrugged. "Your best friend for the first couple of years
in high school was Hispanic, Si?" "Si." "Can you cuss as easily in
Spanish as you do in English." "Back off, Pendejo..." He pressed,
seeing my lapse into slang as a betrayal of weakness. "How many people
tell you your paintings look...Mexican...all those bright colors and
exotic faces...magical stuff..." I covered my face with my hands...it
was true, all true. I was pissed off because those girls weren't
reading my signals. They were looking at my skin and not at my
behavior or speech patterns. Who could blame them...I didn't even
realize it myself.
Now as to the Lesbian part...one of the stories I was telling him
involved the locker room at my high school...which made me think about
the locker room itself, and how I came to enjoy it as a power base. I
think I've mentioned that I've probably seen tons of naked females and
it all started in high school.
Freshman year: sheer terror as we realize that a) ALL freshman girls
must take P.E. and b) ALL girls who take P.E. must shower...naked...in
front of other girls. Well, this little Catholic girl was totally
traumatized. Not only had I not seen another human being naked since I
stopped showering with my mother at age five, but my grandmother wasold fashioned and my underwear was horrifyingly childlike white
cotton; and lastly c) the towels were microscopically small. I
developed a technique for avoiding the other girls while undressing,
covering the most essential parts, dampening my legs and arms, and
Sophomore year: I liked P.E. to my surprise and took it again. See
previous year's solution. Continued, but now willing to drop the towel
for brief periods to rinse the entire body. Under NO circumstances do
you make eye contact with anyone else. Stay away from the Varsity end
of the showers.
Junior Year: Now I shower at the Varsity end...We actually
shower..using soap and everything. We tentatively bullshit with the
Seniors. All pompon girls and cheerleaders must take modern dance,
that means, you practice before school (shower) classes, take
dance(shower) classes, practice after school (shower). When you shower
three times a day with the same people you get used to being naked
together, you develop a camaraderie...in-jokes. You get the BIG
Senior year: By my Senior year, I was the thing I feared. We taunted
Freshmen with our unabashed nakedness. We soaped our privates
elaborately and snapped towels at their asses. I felt perfectly
comfortable walking around the locker room without a stitch. It was my
territory by then. I had earned the right to be a naked bitch.
Being naked was a power trip.
When the hottub phase hit in California, I was right at home. As other
women giggled, looked shocked and played "beg me to take my clothes
off," I displayed my power by being absolutely comfortable with my own
nudity. There is a vast difference between being unclothed and naked.
The tale went from there to my old softball team in Carmel, the
Foxtails, and our favorite competitors, the staff of the local lesbian
newspaper. They were fun to play against because they knew better than
to treat us like Bimbos (my team was sorta hand-picked by our sponsor,
a local single millionaire with a fondness for large breasts and blond
hair), could take an incredible ribbing, and were the only team that
would party with us after we shellacked the hell out of them.
Which brought me to realize that half the women I know are lesbians,
and that those that aren't, the ones that I'm close to have a really
high ratio of lesbian friends. Well, if it walks like a duck and it
talks like a duck, even if it doesn't FUCK like a duck isn't it pretty
much a duck? My friend Lauren (not a lesbian as far as I know) told me
that her women's studies teacher told her that we should ALL claim our
Lesbianhood. That women have more in common with other women than we
do with men, and that we can simply qualify our Lesbianhood by stating
that we prefer sex with men. I can live with that definition.
So...if I seem a little shaky, it's because I just recently discovered
that the Bearded Guy has been showering with a naked Mexican
Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually
Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.
Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.