Give Me that Old Time Dyke Spirituality: Why Womyn’s Communities Should Matter to Millennials

If you are a queer woman under 35, and have never been in womyn’s space, it’s unfortunate but not surprising.  We grew up solidly in third wave feminism and the both liberating and frustrating ambiguity of Queer Theory. I have a complicated relationship with the term “queer.” I love the unity of identifying as women-who-love-women, bringing together bi, pan, and lesbian women together by this otherness, by this desire that separates us from heterosexual society. I’ve identified (in order) as pansexual, bi-sexual (I was pan before people really knew what that was), queer, and lesbian. It seems like this would make our community larger. I like the idea of fluid sexuality, but in practice mine is static. My attempts to “not label it” and trying to “love a person and not a gender” lead to a lot of confusion and broken hearts. Now, t-shirts with “hearts not parts” on them make me nervous, as much as they can be a statement for LGBT advancement I feel they are discouraging to less flexible identities. I’m not wired that way.

In addition to being ambiguously queer we allegedly live in a more tolerant world, whatever that means. This does not promote community. People come out at younger ages to semi-supportive peers, and sometimes even families. The need for community is considered diminished.  If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be more than “tolerated” by society and ambiguously “queer” you need to make the effort to experience womyn’s communities. Go for a weekend, for a retreat. Trust me. Just go.

The Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival was probably the largest and the easiest for young queer women to attend, but we didn’t for various reasons, either beliefs about what makes someone a woman, money, time, location, or simply not knowing what it was. With Michfest gone it’s a little harder for millennial women to find communities with a large number of other young women, but they are out there. Grab your lady-loving friends and find one.

This is possibly the most radical self-care you can do as a queer woman. The womyn who forged these communites have lived through unbelievable hardship and they are still here. Womyn’s communities come out of the 70’s when same-sex love was illegal and dangerous. They’ve fought harder than you can imagine. They know how to take time for themselves and rally the strength of the Amazon Nation. Take a break, unplug, and connect with other womyn, maybe sit in a hammock topless or take in a workshop. It’s womyn taking care of womyn. That is deeply powerful magic. Yes, magic. Academics and anthropologists have written about being taken in by the powerful experiences they had as an observer at rituals in womyn’s space, feeling things they hadn’t anticipated. It’s not hard in womyn’s space, every member of the community is appreciated and valued for her contribution. It doesn’t matter if it’s your first time or your 30^th time in a womyn’s community, you are invited to contribute. You are co-creating the space.

Second, it’s outside of the bar. I know it was so much fun to drink and go to the club when we were 22.  This is a connection more substantive than substance abuse and hooking up, although you can do that too. If your liver is crying and your ears are ringing, give the quiet of the wilderness a try. Part of this added acceptance in mainstream culture means we can be jerks to each other just like heterosexuals on the dating scene, but have you ever asked yourself “should we?” If you find yourself using and discarding women, a womyn’s community provides a lot of relationship modeling which heterosexuals have in abundance but queer women sometimes lack.

Third, we have a lot to learn about organizing. I’ve attended several Midwestern Bisexual Lesbian Gay Transgender and Allies Collegiate Conferences (MBLGTACC) and the last few years have been disheartening. One year student organizers mocked a Deaf person for needing accommodation. They needed an interpreter and the organizers posted to the Facebook page that because they could speak they were “faking.” In womyn’s communities typically accommodations are one of the first things considered. As the original community ages, considerations are made for adaptive camping. Michfest had Deaf camping and interpreters at every stage who were acknowledged and thanked. Have you ever seen an interpreter thanked? Until Michfest I hadn’t.

MGBLTACC last year was hostile to lesbians. A queer woman used “she was basically a white lesbian” as an insult. In a workshop I attended a trans person suggested bisexual women and trans people have a better alliance because lesbians are hostile. The only part of the conference I enjoyed was our identity panel for lesbians. We played games, made a Facebook group, started a group chat, and planned a bar night. The lesbians of MGBLTACC are still in touch. I don’t know what happened to the people who made those comments at the conference and I don’t really care. Safe spaces aren’t safe if everyone is in them.

Michfest had a Womyn of Color Sanctuary that is very much missed. Unlike campus “safe spaces” womyn’s communities are not open to everyone, the Sanctuary was a community inside a community. The seclusion of women’s communities makes them sacred and safe places for things like nudity which really helps learning body positivity. Finding the people who embody the same identities you do at the same intersections is powerful and being in a space with only these women is very affirming.

If you are leery of the womyn-born-womyn policies some communities have, you can either look for an inclusive space (several exist) or participate as my pastor says “like a participating anthropologist.” This helped me out in several tight spots while serving on Spiritual Life at my college where my identity as a woman and a lesbian put me at odds with some of the faith communities we visited. However, I’m happy I took the time to visit these places even as an observer, even if they weren’t “for me” exactly. You are visiting another culture.

Fourth, these womyn know what it’s like to really be an ally. They’ve been fighting with other marginalized groups before it was trendy. Some of these women have decades of helping communities they are not part of. They have wonderful tools to pass on and are happy to educate you on the issues. It’s a great way to get involved actually doing useful work for another community. It’s a good example of appreciation and not appropriation. Womyn bring their culture to teach and share and other womyn take it with reverence and respect. I recently honored a sister who passed at both an ecumenical communion service and a ritual. I’m sure her name is also being spoken at a Jewish service. It’s cultural transmission.

Fifth, out later in life? Had a heterosexual marriage before? Not a problem. So did many of the elders in the community. I dislike the idea of a “gold star lesbian” a woman who has only been with other women because it presupposes a level of acceptance not all women have. If your parents were incredibly religious, or you grew up in a tiny town, were abused or assaulted, or for some other reason feel you didn’t benefit from the supposed acceptance going around these days, you’ll meet other lesbians who also took a little while to come out. Its rough out there.

Sixth, have you ever been completely free to make jokes about lesbian sex, run around topless in the sun, or just feel completely at ease away from street harassment? Womyn’s communities are the only places I’ve found completely free from cat calling.

Seventh, do you have a daughter? Do you want her to be empowered? Children really absorb the energy of these events with long lasting effects. Nothing in the world is as wonderful as little girls with their fists raised high singing “Amazon women gonna rise again” and feeling empowered about their bodies and abilities.

Try it. If you like it, build it.