L is for Lesbian

I feel like I talk A LOT about gay men here.

This makes sense, considering I've devoted this semester (at least) to analyze, critique, discuss queer media. Naturally, I would have to talk about men who identify as gay-- not to mention their representation on television or in film. However, where my project has become flawed is in how I discuss the full spectrum of queerness. I have so far failed to acknowledge beyond the G and (briefly) the T in the LGBTQ+. For this, I would like to apologize. It is not that I want to ignore members of this community, this was just a slight on my part. And I do fully intend to dive into some content surrounding other shades of the queer community today even, so let's sit back and discuss some more.

One of my best friends showed me the pilot episode to The L Word years ago. And while I did not have anything negative to say about the series, I also knew that I wasn't hooked by the premise, nor by the characters. I don't know, maybe it wasn't gripping enough for me at the time. Mind you, I am now a huge Queer as Folk fan and when I first saw the pilot to the U.S. version, I was not impressed either. So maybe a rewatch of The L Word is needed.

Fun fact: I have actually done a similar photo shoot

All of this said, Aviva Dove-Viebahn explores the Showtime original series that is all about lesbians. Which, if you ask me, is pretty fascinating. Dove-Viebhan notes that it is the first of its kind to be about a group of gay women exclusively. Gone are the days where gay characters are delegated to the sidelines. Now, she notes, they are here to represent the queer community in new and fascinating ways. Yet while it is mighty progressive for its time, she also acknowledges that there is much at play in the goings-on between this group of women. While it depicts the lesbian lifestyle as commonplace in the city of Los Angeles, she argues that it also sets up this strict binary between butch lesbians and "femme" lesbians. Essentially, the manly lesbians are seen as social pariahs-- whereas all of the leading characters in the series are cute and fashionable. As Dove-Viebhan clarifies, "(the series) generates a whole new set of questions about the potential mainstreaming of sexual minorities and queer representation in popular media" (p. 72). In other words, the series works as a means of discussion for lesbian characters... but at the same time, it is regressive in its actual depiction of gay women. And excuse me for sounding like a gay Carrie Bradshaw (although I believe those are synonymous), but I couldn't help but wonder:

What is it about the gay community that makes it so easy to commodify?

At this point in my project, I feel like it should go without saying that we, collectively, have come a long, long, long way from where we used to be with queer representation. So let's just settle that right now, so we can take more time to discuss what precisely is wrong with all of these representations. I'll celebrate being gay another time.

Perhaps, in the case of the lesbian community, there is steeped in history all of these elements that complicate what it means to be a gay woman. For example, Dove-Viebhan applies an historical lens to the series-- offering up some much needed context to how lesbians have been culturally accepted/rejected. She writes that throughout the 1980's in particular, there was a clear relationship between butch and femme, because they were responsible for dismantling previous perceptions about gender. This act of dress and ways of being were then inherently political. After all, if you are rejecting the very existence that dictates how you are supposed to be, wouldn't you say that is a political act? However, in the process, this sets up a catch-22 for some women: "if a woman dresses in feminine clothing and is a lesbian... but does not identify, critically or otherwise, as femme, where is her political potency" (p. 74)? Therefore, the very idea that you identify as a lesbian is shrouded in an air of activism-- how exactly does one use that label as an identity marker but also as one that works to expose the flawed system by which they are labelled in the first place?

Yikes. Where does this leave us?

The L Word uses this idea in some flawed ways. For example, characters look at other women and try to guess whether or not they are a lesbian based off their appearances. One storyline centers on a woman who does not look like a lesbian-- she is a different kind, she claims. Y'all. What does that even mean?! Needless to say, these are damning for sure. But Dove-Viebhan also approaches the series by looking to how these portrayals are effective. She notes that creating a world filled with a diverse array of gay women is inherently important for the queer community-- not to mention political in itself. In other words, there is power in exposure. But beyond this, The L Word manages to play with this binary of butch and femme to expose the flaws in the strict shackles they hold on gay women. It's not perfect. But then again, what about the LGBTQ+ community has ever been perfect? It's flawed, it's tough to unpack. It's human.