by Rebecca
A few weeks ago, on a dark and not particularly stormy night, I was sitting out on the green with a (straight) female friend of mine, talking. It was one of those wonderful conversations – the long, meandering, wandering ones of which you can never quite remember the beginning. We tore up bits of grass unconsciously and just talked and talked and talked.
But then I saw in the distance a couple salmon-shorts-clad “townies” wandering over to us across the green. Both guys were perfectly cordial as they asked us our names, what year we were, how we liked college. When they left – after finding out how young we were – we both devolved into laughter. But the one thing that really stood out to me was what they said when they joined us.
“Hey,” said the taller one, “We’ve decided that we’re going to sit with you for a couple minutes. It looks like you’re killing time, so…”
Of course when I corrected him by explaining that no, we were actually spending it, he had no idea what I was talking about.
It didn’t really matter in that case, because they weren’t really interrupting and it did make for a great story. But I couldn’t help wondering how it would have felt if it were my (hypothetical) girlfriend I was talking with.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me. A few months ago, when I went swing dancing with a straight female friend, we hardly ever danced together because when we were dancing, we would be constantly separated – even in the middle of a song – by two guys who wanted to dance with us.
Similarly, when I went to a college ballroom dancing thing, I was required to wait for a guy to ask me; the only time I danced with a girl was when no one did ask me, and one of the female leaders of the dance troupe took pity on me, only to tell me, “We really have to find you a guy.”
When me and one other girl were the only people without partners, I asked her if she wanted to switch up some gender roles and dance together, even offering to lead if that was easier. She just said that that would be “too confusing,” then raised her hand to say that she didn’t have a partner.
It seems, then, that two girls dancing together is the equivalent of two girls standing by the wall, waiting for partners. I think this idea of waiting informs a lot of the common stereotypes about lesbians: that they are only together because they are waiting for men, practicing for men, or even trying to impress men. The thought, in a male-dominated society, that there could be a “real” relationship that doesn’t involve a man seems to be pretty much inconceivable.
I look forward to the day when we can see that two girls hanging out together - in any capacity - are not just “killing time.”
But then I saw in the distance a couple salmon-shorts-clad “townies” wandering over to us across the green. Both guys were perfectly cordial as they asked us our names, what year we were, how we liked college. When they left – after finding out how young we were – we both devolved into laughter. But the one thing that really stood out to me was what they said when they joined us.
“Hey,” said the taller one, “We’ve decided that we’re going to sit with you for a couple minutes. It looks like you’re killing time, so…”
Of course when I corrected him by explaining that no, we were actually spending it, he had no idea what I was talking about.
It didn’t really matter in that case, because they weren’t really interrupting and it did make for a great story. But I couldn’t help wondering how it would have felt if it were my (hypothetical) girlfriend I was talking with.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me. A few months ago, when I went swing dancing with a straight female friend, we hardly ever danced together because when we were dancing, we would be constantly separated – even in the middle of a song – by two guys who wanted to dance with us.
Similarly, when I went to a college ballroom dancing thing, I was required to wait for a guy to ask me; the only time I danced with a girl was when no one did ask me, and one of the female leaders of the dance troupe took pity on me, only to tell me, “We really have to find you a guy.”
When me and one other girl were the only people without partners, I asked her if she wanted to switch up some gender roles and dance together, even offering to lead if that was easier. She just said that that would be “too confusing,” then raised her hand to say that she didn’t have a partner.
It seems, then, that two girls dancing together is the equivalent of two girls standing by the wall, waiting for partners. I think this idea of waiting informs a lot of the common stereotypes about lesbians: that they are only together because they are waiting for men, practicing for men, or even trying to impress men. The thought, in a male-dominated society, that there could be a “real” relationship that doesn’t involve a man seems to be pretty much inconceivable.
I look forward to the day when we can see that two girls hanging out together - in any capacity - are not just “killing time.”
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