Grace Reno
Growing up as an out lesbian, there were many times, whether it be at a party or sleepover when inevitably one of my peers would turn to me and say: “So, how do two girls really have sex?” This question was posed as if lesbians were some magical, foreign creature, and lesbian sex was some kind of sorcery. The implication, provided by the question, was that lesbian sex was impossible to imagine because it did not involve penetration from a penis. The attitude seemed to be that whatever these lesbians are doing when they’re alone, it is not sex.
Lesbian relationships and the dynamics within them fail to be legible to society at large because any deviation from the perceived norms regarding sex and relationships is labeled as an imitation of the “superior,” heteronormative bond. The Queer Art of Failure by Jack Halberstam, In The Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado, and The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson each investigate how lesbian relationships fail to be legible to outsiders because the relationships do not seek to imitate heterosexual dynamics. Frequently, lesbian relationships are perceived as asexual and peaceful feminine utopias, leaving the true dynamics of lesbianism unexamined and invisible within the broader culture. Lesbian relationships are also often characterized as failures because any deviations from the governing norms related to sex and relationships are cast as an unconvincing imitation of heterosexual romance, sex, politics, and family. Halberstam, Machado, and Nelson investigate how lesbian relationships are illegitimatized by outsiders because they do not emulate these heterosexual dynamics. In a hegemonic hetero-patriarchal society, lesbians can be cast as failures by the prevailing social narrative due to their nonparticipation in heterosexual dynamics, however, Halberstam, Machado, and Nelson all demonstrate that this nonparticipation is not a failure of lesbianism but rather a failure of the larger society to see how lesbianism models a refusal to submit to existing power structures.
In his book The Art of Queer Failure, Halberstam investigates how what is perceived as failure within the queer community can conversely be seen as a way to resist the dominant power structures of the heteropatriarchy. However, I argue that Halberstam’s theory of queer failure can also be applied to how those outside of the queer community fail to see queer romance, sex, politics, and families as legitimate. When embarking on their journey of family-making, a large number of queer couples struggle with being legible as queer, because for so long having children has been relegated to the heterosexual sphere. Additionally, one of the dominant narratives of queer culture has long revolved around the notion that a significant aspect of queerness is its opposition to reproduction: Maggie Nelson grapples with this issue in The Argonauts. “Don’t produce. Don’t reproduce,” Nelson’s friend quips (75). Halberstam asserts that “success in a heteronormative, capitalist society equates too easily to specific forms of reproductive maturity combined with wealth accumulation,” thus when combined, these narratives of the failure of lesbians to emulate heterosexual relationships and that the LGBTQ+ community has a history of anti-reproductive belief cause most lesbian families to become illegible both within and outside of the community.
Throughout her pregnancy, Nelson faced challenges while her partner, Harry, transitioned from FTM. She struggled with her relationship being legible as queer, especially as Harry began to pass as cis, causing outsiders to assume they were a heterosexual couple: “You pass as a guy; I as pregnant. Our waiter cheerfully tells us about his family, expresses delight in ours” (Nelson 83). Furthermore, Nelson’s peers begin to view her as giving into the hetero agenda; once there is a child in tow, queer couples can no longer attend the sex-positive and raunchy extracurriculars that are often synonymous with queerness but not child-rearing (67). Though, just as Nelson’s growing family is criticized by the queer community in her life, they don’t find solace amongst the cis hetero either: “When a guy has cause to stare at Harry’s driver’s license or credit card, there comes an odd moment which their camaraderie as two dudes screeches to a halt” (89). Part of the pushback from the queer community surrounding children likely stems from the assertion that baby-making takes a relationship out of the queer community and thrusts the family into the heterosexual sphere. Even a simple mug, which Nelson’s mother made with endearing intention and with her growing family picture on it, is criticized as “heteronormative” by Nelson’s friend. However, Nelson pushes back: “But what about it [the mug] is the essence of heteronormativity? That my mother made a mug on a boojie service like Snapfish?. . . What about my pregnancy —is that inherently heteronormative?” (13). Furthermore, Nelson interrogates the fact that a large part of the queer community, including herself, feels that adding the entity of a child effectively de-queers their relationships; even though “in the most radical feminist and/or lesbian separatist circles, there have always been children around” (75). Despite that, because the child and the queer community have long been put in opposition to each other, numerous queer people feel as if child-rearing is not accessible to them, myself included. The perception of both queer and non-queer people must shift, for, as Nelson hopes, queerness to be “an umbrella category under which baby making might be a subset, rather than the other way around” (72). Until then, queer family-making will remain illegible for large parts of both the LGBTQ+ and heterosexual communities.
Lesbian sex and desire are widely ignored in pop culture, and in the rare scenarios in which intimacy between women is portrayed, lesbian sexual encounters are made hypersexual —especially when viewed through the lens of male desire. As a teenager, I yearned for lesbian representation, and spent hours on Tumblr reblogging images of Sappho and her poetry, along with photos of women in dresses on picnic dates. However, what was missing from those depictions of lesbianism was the carnal desire I felt towards women. None of those women wanted to be ravaged, they were content gazing into each other’s eyes and exchanging poetry. Conversely, on adult video platforms such as Pornhub, depictions of lesbian sexual encounters of all kinds are readily accessible to their largely male viewership, one that is 71% male in the United States (“2023 Year in Review”). “Lesbian” was 2023’s number one most searched term in the United States and 2023’s most viewed category overall (“2023 Year in Review”). Despite that, heteronormative society questions the legitimacy of lesbian sex largely because of the lack of penetration and the lack of the male penis, asserting that what makes sex, sex, is the act of p in v penetration. Machado sums this up succinctly: “Heterosexuals have never known what to do with queer people, if they think of their existence at all. This has especially been the case for women–on the one hand, they seem like sinners in theory, but with no penis how do they, you know, do it?” (In the Dream House 135). Furthermore, in both the hyper and asexual scenarios, butch lesbians are effectively erased, as the only “palatable” lesbian pairing is femme for femme. To make lesbians visible and appealing to the heteronormative mainstream, “the specific features which have stereotypically connotated lesbians in the past–masculine appearance and interests and jobs–must be blotted out to provide a free channel for commodification” (Halberstam 95). Thus, to be recognized and accepted by larger society, lesbians are either forced to erase half of the lesbian population, or conversely, butches are cast as imitations of masculinity: “What remains unattainable in the butches’ masculinity, we might say, is what remains unattainable in all masculinity. . . but it is only in the butch, the masculine woman, that we notice its impossibility” (Halberstam 100). However, this pseudo-recognition in the form of erasure and stereotyping does more harm than good, as it has led to a failure to acknowledge the true nature of lesbianism. Therefore, the perceived failure attributed to lesbian sex and desire does not stem from any inherent deficiency in the acts themselves, but rather because they do not emulate what is considered to be “real” sex by dominant heterosexual logic. Limiting the definition of sex to penetration not only illegitimates lesbianism but limits the possibilities for those who don’t identify as lesbian; when heterosexual power dynamics and the need for penile penetration are not deemed necessary for sexual interaction, different possibilities for pleasure become accessible.
As mentioned previously, lesbianism is frequently presented, by both lesbians and non-lesbians, as a man-free utopia. Once again, Machado puts this perfectly: “Fantasy is, I think, the defining cliche of female queerness. No wonder we joke about U-Hauls on the second date. To find desire, love, everyday joy without men’s accompanying bullshit is a pretty decent working definition of paradise” (Machado 109). The belief that women are incapable of perpetrating abuse, within heterosexual relationships, is already so ingrained that women are almost always seen as the victim and never the villain. Thus, lesbianism is purported as an escape from domestic abuse, making it difficult for lesbians themselves, let alone straight people, to believe that abuse could take place within lesbian relationships: “Acknowledging this insufficiency of this idealism is nearly as painful as acknowledging that we’re the same as straight folks in this regard: we’re in the muck like everyone else” (Machado 109). Therefore, when abuse happens in a lesbian relationship it can be hard for both lesbians and non lesbians to recognize. I mean, without the patriarchy present in a relationship there shouldn’t be any issues, right? Right?????
Patriarchal values and ideas around power and dominance circulate and do harm even in spaces when no men are present, and the perception that intimate partner violence is solely gendered masks other possible underlying factors that contribute to domestic violence. Consequently, when those who have experienced violence in lesbian relationships come forward, they are often met with disbelief, as it is challenging for many to conceive of a woman being violent towards another woman, particularly in a manner that is typically associated with men: “Kind to you in person, what they say to others makes its way back to you: We don’t know for certain that it’s as bad as she says. The woman from the Dream House seems perfectly fine, even nice. Maybe things were bad, but it’s changed? Relationships are like that, right? Love is complicated. Maybe it was rough, but was it really abusive? What does that mean, anyway? Is that even possible?” (Machado 223). Because of the inherent misogyny that permeates Western culture, the domestic abuse of women is often ignored; in addition, the burden of proof seems to lie solely with the victim in an effort to secure any “justice.” For these reasons, only the most severe cases of queer domestic violence stand a chance of being recognized: “. . . you’ll wish she had hit you. Hit you hard enough that you’d have bruised in grotesque and obvious ways, hard enough that you took photos, hard enough that you went to the cops, hard enough that you could have gotten the restraining order you wanted” (Machado 224). The failure of lesbians and non-lesbians alike to recognize that lesbians are capable of abuse renders the relationship as illegible, and worse, it leaves those within the community vulnerable.
To make space for true lesbian legibility, the fixed definitions of things such as sex, romance, and family must be expanded. As things stand, lesbians and other parts of the queer community are seen as secondary to or imitative of heterosexual dynamics, leaving lesbianism illegible and misconstrued. These constraints imposed on lesbianism not only confine lesbians in their actions and choices but also hinder non-lesbians from exploring diverse notions of sex, family structures, and caregiving. For too long, heterosexual norms have dominated the landscape and have shaped the dynamics of sexuality, romance, politics, and family. Despite the reign of these ideas, Western culture, especially American culture, seems more divided and violent than it ever has, so perhaps it is time to try things a different way, the lesbian way. I once had a psychic tell me that being a lesbian is part of my purpose in this world, and a large aspect of that for me is utilizing lesbianism as a way to reveal to others that there are already ways of living that challenge the the “superior” heteronormative bond and mode of success; it has been perceived as failure, it is lesbianism.
References
Halberstam, Jack. The Queer Art of Failure. Duke University Press, 2011.
Machado, Carmen Maria. In the Dream House: A Memoir. Graywolf Press, 2019.
Nelson, Maggie. The Argonauts. Graywolf Press, 2016.
“2023 Year in Review.” Pornhub, 2023, www.pornhub.com/insights/2023-year-in-review.