I always thought lesbians had to have short hair.
It seems silly, now, I know, but I was sure one’s desired hair length came first, and sexual
identity would simply follow.
I grew up happily brushing my long, blonde hair into ponytails, ballerina buns, curls, or clips. My
hair made me feel like a girl, and later a woman, and though I was off put by male attention, I
adored every second of that feeling. My femininity was precious to me and I took pride in it.
I looked at my friend’s mothers, the only lesbians I knew, at their closely shaved heads, and figured since I didn’t look like them, I was ‘safe.’ I couldn’t be gay. Phew!
But when I was 15, I saw them.
Two older girls from school, in softball uniforms… kissing. I stared, unable to process. They both had long, straight blonde hair like mine. That couldn’t be right. I stopped in the middle of the school hallway, my breathing shallow, and turned to my friend. “Wait a second, is Rebecca… a lesbian ?” I whispered.
My friend just laughed, “Yeah, why are you whispering?”
“I– I just wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“How come?”
I couldn’t answer her. How ridiculous would I have sounded if I would’ve said, “her hair”?
All I could think was: That’s me. I’m them. I want that.
I understand now.
The rules logic I had used to protect myself for years were shattered, and the two precious
circles that held “feminity” and “lesbian” were overlapping in a terrifying and exciting venn
diagram, where I suddenly stood in the middle, alone.

playwright- Karina Strom
performed by – Livie Hamilton
dir – Clara Battle

Produced by Thtr 296 Introduction to Playwriting and Comm 300 Stand Up Speak Out

for Marymount Manhattan College’s
Stand Up Speak Out 

Arts + Social Justice Festival Fall 2020

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By mike