Lily’s College Lesbianage #4: Oh, College Girls!

[all images and photos on this post (except the last one of Lily) are via Achtung Baby!,
the blog of our friend John Moon.]

Hello Autostraddlers…it’s been a while!

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to figure out just how much is appropriate for me to share on the interwebs. Should I use this as a diary of sorts—one where I display my often Sylvia Plath/Elizabeth Wurtzel-like thoughts? Should I be discussing relationships? Should I be emotional? Or should I be interviewing fellow gay students? Reporting on gay news from a variety of college campuses? Separating my personal life from what I am writing about that month?

Ideally I should be able to find a balance, to give the readers what they want while not divulging too much of myself and most importantly to do my job in a consistent and orderly fashion. But ideally I would be able to get through the day without immobilizing anxiety and random spurts of unstoppable tears. I’d be able to be a better and more reliable intern during this Autostraddle revolution (we ARE taking over the world, if you haven’t noticed) while also being able to keep up with my relatively simple academic schedule. But then life gets in the way.

Oh College Girls…

I waited two months to introduce to Lesbianage the fact that I had met someone. Two months seemed safe. Things appeared to be going well. And then they weren’t. All of the sudden my relationship existed on the internet but did not exist in real life. This could explain our never-ending love for the internet.

I’m not a huge fan of talking about my own romantic relationships, save for angry post-break up ranting to anyone who is willing to listen. So to describe the state of mind that my relatively recent loss put me in for about a week and a half…well let’s just say I listened to a lot of Leonard Cohen and angry women who probably played Lilith-Fair circa 1997. Not because I felt like I would never be in a relationship again but because I lost the comfort of always having someone to count on, to be there when I needed to talk, or when I just needed someone to have lunch with. I’m back to square one. I have to attempt to actively make friends again and it’s incredibly scary.

Gays in the Woods!

The weekend before my happened-way-too-fast relationship ended just as quickly as it began, I spent two nights away from Manhattan with a bunch of gays in a cabin. I am not making that up! I didn’t think I’d be so into the touchy-feely emotional Oprah-like feel of the event (even though I knew for sure that I wanted to go—that I HAD to go) but by the end of the first day I felt surrounded by so much love that I knew I never wanted to leave.

It is nearly impossible to put into words what a weekend like that felt like. No man-made system of language can do justice to what I got out of that experience. So I urge all of you college students—bring up the idea of an LGBTQ retreat to your gay groups on campus and if your school already offers a retreat or an event with a similar idea—go to it. It is 100% worth it and will be one of the best experiences of your life.

So That’s How You Make Friends…

After nearly four months in college I am finally figuring out how to make friends. The process is strangely simple. Apparently you get someone’s number, then you text them and ask them to get coffee with you, and then magically you sort of have a friend! Who knew? The only time I remember ever actively making a friend was in first grade when a new girl entered our class and I went up to her during reading time and said “Hi, I’m Lily. We should be best friends”. (Side note #1: I was reading the autobiography of the figure skater Tara Lipinski at the time. The book mainly included lots of pictures of half naked female figure skaters. It starts young…)

But ever since I achieved that one brave social moment at the age of five I have been unable to figure out how to recreate that friend making moment. I began to count on other people and their ability to see me as a cool person who was worth trying to make their friend. Recently, when on the phone with my mother, she warned me of the consequences that this friendship making habit produces. She has struggled with a similar problem in her life—she assumed people would simply flock to her and therefore would not have to put any effort into the friendship making process. The issue is that both my mother and I look like bitches and our social anxiety is often confused with coldness or the idea that we think we are better than everyone else. Of course it is the opposite that is true.  So the next time you run into me or my mother, know that we are not being cold…we are just really scared of you!

Thanksgiving in La Floridaaa

The issue of friends and family brings me to my next point: Thanksgiving. Does anyone actually like Thanksgiving? I know I don’t. My family is very small and spread out and because my immediate family lives in South Florida this often means that Thanksgiving is spent only with people who are well over eighty years old.  This makes dinner conversation difficult because frankly it ends up being the same conversation every five minutes (remind me to never get old). Luckily the older generation does not find my attending a Woman’s College as anything weird but rather as something old-fashioned and respectable. So no talk of boys (because they know I am not going to school with them) yet no assumption of my “alternative lifestyle” because every smart girl went to prestigious women’s colleges back in the day.

“Despite my comfort in being out at school and my ability to talk about gay issues freely with anyone I met there, at home felt anxious about my sexuality in a way I haven’t felt since I came out to my mom last year.”

It is the younger family members, or rather friends who are so close that they are practically family, that I have to explain why I would ever choose to attend an all girl school. And then, if they know I’m gay, I have to explain why my sexuality is actually not the reason I go to a woman’s college in the first place. It is so frustrating!

This prompted another difficulty that I found during my time at home. I unfortunately realized that despite my comfort in being out at school and my ability to talk about gay issues freely with anyone I met there, at home felt anxious about my sexuality in a way I haven’t felt since I came out to my mom last year. (Sidenote #2: The term “coming out” freaks me out and I hate using it. I wasn’t hiding anywhere! I did not emerge from under a rock! Let’s think of something else to say people!)

Pretty much everyone at home knows. My high school, my parents, their friends, my brother, his friends…but it is not something we talk about. It is not something I feel comfortable talking about with my family or our family friends. But it is also not an issue. Everyone is super liberal and super open minded. So why does it still make me so uncomfortable?

That is a question I may have to grapple with for the rest of my life or at least until sexuality becomes a non-issue.

It’s Almost Winter Break, Guys! It’s that time where finals are nearing and the prospect of home is so close I can almost feel the fear of my plane ride coming into fruition. (Sidenote # 3: Planes weigh a lot. How the hell am I supposed to believe that they can be suspended in the air for hours at a time without crashing? Yeah Mary Poppins can fly, but that’s because Julie Andrews is god. I don’t care that there is some sort of science behind the plane thing, I just refuse to believe it)

I will be basking in the Florida sun for a month over break and couldn’t be more excited. New York is nice but maybe, just maybe, home will be able to put me back together into a functional (well, relatively functional) human being. Wishful thinking? We’ll see.

College Lesbianage #3: When Will My Lovely Lesbian Bubble Burst?

Truth: I entered college with the intention that my love life would be defined by a series of hookups and casual flings. It’s what I wanted. It’s what the straight girls in high school had. It’s what I’d tried to have with boys but was completely and totally grossed out by. College was going to be my time to explore the bounty of options that my woman’s college was to provide me.
During my first week of college, as you may recall, I wasn’t exactly making out with anyone, let alone having feelings and ending up in a relationship! But alas, that has what happened and therefore I cannot write about my crazy college hookups as they do not exist.
But what DOES exist? Cute dorm sleepovers, cute public hand-holding, and cute dates to museums! But cuteness might be boring and at times, and, let’s admit it; often incredibly annoying to read about. But maybe that’s just my extreme cynicism talking.

(Side note: Yes, I felt her in my legs before I even met her. Yes, I felt her in my heart and I didn’t even know her. I may not be 19 yet but I knew this would happen. TEGAN TOLD ME IT WOULD!)

The least exciting thing was reading Eugene Onegin (if someone would like to explain to me what the hell is going on in this piece of “classic Russian literature” I would greatly appreciate it and would love you forever).

What happens in between includes extreme procrastination, acing an Art History paper, and not acing a Women Studies paper—thus doubting my ability to study women. BUT I AM GREAT AT STUDYING WOMEN. At least I think so…

On a completely non-gay related topic

Remember how I used to be afraid of the dining hall? WELL NOW I WISH I WAS STILL AFRAID. Because freshman are forced to pay a ridiculous amount of money for an unlimited meal plan, my naturally frugal mind likes to converse with my naturally hungry stomach. Thus resulting in the consumption of millions upon millions of calories a day. Perhaps this would be ok if I was athletic (like everyone here seems to be) but even just crossing the street to go to a class at Columbia is a huge hassle and over-use of energy for me. Obviously I am not fit enough for my dreams of Olympic gold to ever come to fruition.

Tegan and Sara

Confession: I discovered Tegan and Sara only about seven months ago. For a long time I passed them off as bad whiny Canadian pop. Obviously I was wrong. My love for the ridiculously attractive twins has blossomed into a full on obsession in the past months, thus prompting me to pay money I do not have in order to attend their concert in NYC on October 30^th. It was so worth it.

Of course I had expected (and was excited) to see a bunch of T&S look-alikes in the crowd, but more than that I was struck by the diversity of the attendees. Gay, straight, Americas Next Top Model Contestants, younger, older, parents with their kids, parents without their kids, etc. It was such an exciting place to be, not to mention the fact that the live music and banter was absolutely incredible.

Halloween

The day after I had my amazing T&S experience I had my first College and New York City Halloween experience.  Can we just talk about how wearing a red tank top and underwear does NOT constitute as a fireman “costume”?  And putting on a sailor hat and lingerie does NOT make you a sailor. It may have been funny in Mean Girls but it is not that amusing in real life (plus most people do not look like Rachel McAdams and Amanda Seyfried).

I did not spend my Halloween in the Columbia/Barnard vicinity but must say that on my way downtown I saw plenty of Ivy League ladies wearing very revealing outfits. BUT I also saw many of them wearing cleverly put together costumes thus restoring my faith in humanity.

My Liberal Comfort Zones

One of the more serious things that I have noticed during my time here is that Barnard, Columbia, and New York City are all bubbles. Even the high school I went to and the part of Florida where I lived were all bubbles. Bubbles of relatively liberal people — people who allowed me to be gay without having to worry about extreme opposition or hate crimes. I tend to forget that the whole world is not always like this.

And then I got a call from a best friend who is attending one of the large state schools in Florida. She missed our group of liberal minds, and she was angry because of a conversation she had just been thrust into while doing her laundry. A guy and girl were talking about a friend. The guy said in an accusatory tone that the friend is a lesbian. The girl begins to freak out and says “Oh my god, don’t say that! No, no she is not. That is horrible!” My best friend, pissed off, asks her ignorant classmate what’s so wrong with the friend being a lesbian. The girl responds “Well, she like came into my room and asked to hang out.”

Yeah.

I forget that people think this way. I forget that my own generation is still plagued with homophobia and ignorance. I tend to write about how great being gay in college is, but I forget that not every college is as open as my own. I even completely disregard the problems that the school I do attend still has with homophobia and heteronormative thinking.

So I have to wonder…am I blind to the homophobia that exists at my own school? Do I myself live in my own bubble? And what are other schools like? Other states? Other countries?

If anyone has any answers, please let me know — I would love to hear your awesome, amazing, beautiful opinions. I mean, if a state like Maine can shoot down gay marriage, what does that say for the fate of the rest of us?

So until next time just know that I love you all and that in my liberal bubble of a world, you can totally get gay married as much as you want!

College Lesbianage #2: I Can Dance With a Girl if I Want To

Since the last time I spilled my slightly melodramatic teenage feelings on Autostraddle, my college life has, as predicted, gotten a LOT better. Aside from that whole school thing (you know, like going to classes, writing papers, feeling totally and completely not smart/driven enough for higher education), I’ve settled into something like contentment. I’ve ridden the bus THREE WHOLE TIMES by myself. I know, generally, how to find north, east, south and west (I know, I’m not sure how I got into college either).

I’d say that about seventy percent of the time both Barnard and Columbia genuinely feel like home and that walking back to them at three in the morning (which I only do … sometimes) provides a sense of comfort and contentment. This all isn’t to say that I don’t still have my fair share of feelings. I’m an eighteen year old lesbian—I’m genetically predisposed to feel every little feeling to the EXTREME.

The past two weeks or so have felt, well, really really gay. Between writing for/telling everyone I know about Autostraddle and attempting to attend every gay event and school organization meeting possible, I feel that I should probs go ahead and change my major to “gay.” Well, I guess “Women’s Studies” is close nough.

Not only did the amazing feedback from our fabulous Autostraddle readers fill my heart with rainbows and butterflies, but kind messages from both old and new friends have helped to turn my major of gay into something incredibly special and meaningful.

Now for something a bit less heartwarming!

New York is f*cking cold and I have nothing to wear. I like clothes, I like make-up, and I like shoes. Perhaps this is why I am constantly hearing the phrases “But you’re so trendy!” “But she’s so pretty!” “I can’t believe how girly you are!” after informing the otherwise clueless friend of a friend of my inclination towards the ladies. These phrases of oblivion are sometimes cute and sometimes obnoxious but responding to them makes me feel like I’m saving the world, one straight girl at a time.

However, no matter how many of those familiarly clueless questions I face, it’s still incredibly refreshing not to have to announce my sexuality to every new friend but rather just casually drop an ex-girlfriend into the conversation and roll normally forward.

I ride the subway and see women holding hands, and one very special two-in-the-morning train ride home I even saw two women passionately making out! I walk under a giant rainbow of balloons on my way to Women’s Studies class at Columbia and then back to Barnard behind girls who hold hands and kiss each other before parting ways for class. Moments like these make me realize why people enjoy college so much (or at least liberal colleges like Barnard and Columbia).

One qualm that I do have with Barnard is that these girls totally throw off my gaydar! It is near impossible to tell by mere observation who is gay and who is just sporting flannel, skinny jeans, and a short haircut because it’s in style. Alternately I’ve found myself acting like a complete hypocrite when meeting gay girls, some of whom are now my friends, and thinking “but she doesn’t look gay at all!” The blasphemous phrase that I hear all the time in response to my own sexuality is now something I find myself using on other long haired, dress wearing, lady loving ladies.

Columbia Queer Life

The month of October is queer awareness month and Columbia is really into celebrating it. And although I haven’t consciously constructed it this way, October really does look like it will be the Gayest Month of My Entire Life. My “queer buddy” (as the leaders of our on-campus gay groups like to put it) and I have been trying desperately to find a weekend to visit her sister at Smith (strictly for academic comparisons of sister schools, duh) but every weekend another gay thing comes up that we must attend, like the March on Washington or the Tegan & Sara concert. We’ve tried doing other non-Columbia associated gay things too but every outing seems to become a complete fail.

Back in high school the only out gay people I really knew were guys … and girls I dated.I mean, I attended a performing arts school that leaned liberal, was proudly progressive, and even had a non-gender specific senior prom court. It just wasn’t “cool” to be homophobic.

However, lesbians were few and far between and I didn’t think having a gay girl as a friend (as in, not a date/fling/girlfriend/ex/etc) was even an option.  And although it’s not easy to befriend gay ladies without feeling awkward attraction at least once, it’s still refreshing to have a friend or more to talk to about problems straight friends just can’t relate to.

So I went to this dance…

I’ve only been here for a month but I’ve made a really conscious effort to find a gay community here and I’m happy to report that it’s alive and well as long as you participate in the myriad of events they offer.

One such event was a particular dance that I attended last night. I got there under the preconceived notion that it would be awkward, lame, sparse, and just a bunch of gay guys dancing while five girls sat in the corner looking at their cups.

I was wrong. I got my ticket from the rainbow-decorated ticket table and busted right in to a full-on dance party featuring Lady Gaga, Britney Spears and The Spice Girls (I’m sort of a ridiculous cliché of a gay man at heart). Maybe it’s because I may have been around some alcohol prior to arriving, but this dance ended up being one of the most fun things I’ve attended thus far at Barnard/Columbia.

Boys dancing with boys and girls dancing (non-platonically) with girls! It’s a phenomenon every young gay has dreamed of and now I was finally experiencing it!

Many times when I am somewhere where dancing is involved I will be asked to dance by a member of the male species. I, unfortunately, am far too nice to say no. Now I have nothing against men—but grinding against them is something that often triggers nausea and discomfort in my very lesbian body. But this time as I was rather embarrassingly singing my heart out to “Baby One More Time” I felt a tap on my shoulder. Not a guy asking to dance but an actual real live female. WHAT?! I can dance with a girl? Who isn’t straight? I may not have been 100% conscious at this dance but the weight of this moment transcended any “under 21″ illegal substance in my body.

School? What school?

I could talk about the papers that I haven’t written yet, or the million pages in various text books that I probably should get to reading—since academia is probably what college is supposed to be about. But seeing as just a few weeks ago I felt like I had no friends, filling my time with gay events to find friends is top priority on my list (even my mother agrees with this outlook). I now have people to eat with at the dining hall but sometimes actually prefer eating there alone. My life in school has gotten better but I still am at my core, a bit of a loner. My favorite moments here have been sitting alone on the Columbia steps at two in the morning and being completely overtaken by the surreal notion that I am where I am doing what I do.

It is crazy, it is amazing, it is scary. But I’m glad it’s finally beginning to feel like home.

College Lesbianage #1: I’m Looking for Girlfriends, Not Bridesmaids

College: A time when straight girls experiment with gay girls, gay girls experiment with straight girls, and a lot of girls (so I hear) go completely wild! And while I’ve finished my first week at a women’s college without experiencing any of the aforementioned experiments, I sense there’s plenty of pent-up estrogen on this campus and it’s only a matter of time before my lady-loving drama begins. This is of course one of many reasons why Riese so lovingly gave me this column; subtly titled “Lily’s College Lesbianage.”+

What is this new College Lesbianage column going to be about, you ask? Welll … in addition to sharing my experiences as a young lesbian in college — my attempts at making friends & my attempts at making out (JK I’m great at that) as well as my insider perspective on what the “sisterhood” of all-women colleges are really about — I’ll also talk to y’all about the lives of queer ladies at other schools and hopefully snag some fun interviews & guest bloggers too. When I have a lot of money, which will be very soon, I’ll be able travel to other colleges and have these experiences with you ‘first-hand.’

So … my first week of college. Let’s begin.

Always the Bridesmaids, Never the Brides

I’d thought, idealistically, that my first week of school at Barnard College of Columbia University in New York would instantly procure me a million friends, countless options for potential associates, scores of cute girls, many late nights, and a decent amount of alcohol.

However, my level of disillusionment becomes immediately clear during the elaborate convocation ceremony held on the first night of orientation, when the President of Barnard tells us to look at the 580 girls around us and think about how within this crowd we’ll find “our future bridesmaids” and “our future best friends” — oh and not just any best friends, but the kind of friends who will one day hold our hand as we scream obscenities during child labor.

My level of disillusionment becomes immediately clear when the President of Barnard tells us how within this crowd of 580 freshmen girls, we’ll probably find “our future bridesmaids.”

UM…? I look around the crowd of girls hoping I can catch someone’s eye to agree with me on this: Maybe I’m just really, really gay, but all I can think about during this prediction of our futures is, “What about those of us who can’t get married? What about looking into the crowd and seeing the woman we’ll be dating, marrying, the woman who’s hand we’ll be holding as she gives birth to our child?”

I guess I shouldn’t expect to a find a crowd of young lesbians agreeing with me in this room—after all, immediately after getting my acceptance letter, I’d done what any self-respecting high schooler would and joined the Barnard Class of 2013 Facebook Group, preparing myself to get in quick with a bunch of Tegan and Sara-loving Samantha Ronson lookalikes chatting cleverly about their love/hatred for The L Word (like I saw on the Smith College class of 2013 Facebook group). I was wrong.

Not only was the most discussed group forum devoted entirely to how my future classmates were going to find boys, but the women’s college = lesbian college stereotype was promptly debunked.

But also; as the week goes on I realize it isn’t just because I like girls that I find the boy-obsessions of my future classmates annoying, it’s ’cause I’d been hoping an all-women’s college would be a departure from the ‘hook up’ focused girls I’d known back in high school and if anything – it’s worse here!

Perhaps back in the day, women going to college was more about finding a husband than getting an education, but I’d figured that this mindset would have died out by now—especially at a liberal women’s college like Barnard.

My Number One Feeling is Anxiety Attack

Ok. So. Really, these orientation week issues probably have less to do with being a gay girl in college than they do with being a chronically anxious eighteen-year-old Floridian living on her own for the first time in New York City. My emotions have been all over the map; from elated to miserable, comfortable to extreme, body-numbing anxiety … and though before arriving my biggest fear was “coming out to a new group of people,” orientation week is presenting much more tangible obstacles … like that I’ve already lost three pounds because I’m afraid to eat alone in the dining hall. And! I don’t even have the guts to ask anyone to come with me!

Also, I thought I was lucky to get a roommate who considers herself somewhere between “Questioning” and “Bisexual,” but it turns out she goes to bed at nine o’clock, which isn’t meshing too well with my insomnia and my Love of the Night.

Everyone I’ve spoken to about my first-week loneliness & misery told me they felt the same during their initial weeks of college … but I have to wonder, where are these people? And why does it seem like everyone else was having more fun than me?

My Lesbian College Life’s in Turnaround

As the week plodded on and eventually came to an end — was I the only one looking forward to classes beginning? Yeah? Just me? This is becoming a pattern! — I realized that no, the identically-outfitted boy-hunting girl gang-les aren’t the only people here, or even most of the people here. I guess you notice the things that make you uncomfortable most of all.

Truthfully these “annoying” girls are only a small contingency. Most of my classmates are more focused on education but they also wants what any human wants, including me — some kind of love life. Just not necessarily one that ends in marriage.

And luckily, smack-dab in the middle of my first anxious week, I attend a Barnard/Columbia LGBTQ breakfast to learn about all the on-campus queer groups, and being there, surrounded by people who’ve all been through the same tough thing I’ve been through, makes me feel a lot better.

It turns out that this community is an incredible thing to fall back on.

I’m Gay and I’m Weird

The weekend before classes begin, I suck it up and take a Columbia University field trip to the Museum of Modern Art. It’s there that I finally face the fact that it’s not because I’m gay that I’m not able to make instant friends but because I am, in essence, a bit strange.

It’s there that I finally face the fact that it’s not because I’m gay that I’m not able to make instant friends but because I am, in essence, a bit strange.

My personality, whether belonging to a gay or straight person, is not one that automatically makes new friends and finds perfect groups. I overanalyze every situation and stop being funny and loveable when faced with new people. I live with a total outsider mentality, one I’ve felt all my life and one most gay people are very familiar with. Perhaps this is why I feel so comfortable in groups of weirdos and misfits and why the museum — full of weirdo art — feels more like home than anything else I’ve experienced in my first week of school.

The more pretentious and ridiculous the artwork, the more I loved it. I found myself in what can only be described as a child-like bliss skipping between the Picassos, Kandinskys, Mirós, and every other piece of artwork I recognized from my Art History textbook.

I’m standing awestruck in front of a giant Rothko and the painting wraps itself around me like a childhood blanket, like the warmth of my hometown’s sun, like the comfort of being surrounded by every person who knows and loves me. I listen to people next to me snidely remarking that they too could just paint a couple of colors on a giant canvas, and I’m glad to be me and not them, even if they are here with each other and I’m alone.

I’m aware that I’m gay, and I’m weird, and I’m okay. And that I’ll definitely be here for another few years.

I even take the subway back to Barnard myself, without the seeming “comfort” of a Columbia tour group—and I think for the first time …

that I could maybe,

possibly,

actually

do this.

A Gay Blessing in Disguise

As the days went on, I kept seeing that it’s the things that make me different that make me feel the most at home. Even my sexuality, something I once considered a burden I hadn’t asked for, is one of my favorite aspects of life and ultimately the one place I found solace during an otherwise traumatic first week of college. The experience of being gay never ceases to amaze.

Luckily, my school’s LGBTQAIDONTKNOWHOWMANYLETTERSTHEREARENOW potential is proving to be a lot higher than I’d expected after searching Facebook months ago.

I’m now on every Columbia University/Barnard College gay organization’s email list, I have a very gay-friendly academic advisor (who teaches in the Women Studies department), and I’ve strolled by a ton of ladies sporting alternative lifestyle haircuts on campus. I’ve even found a friend to share ridiculous ex-girlfriend stories with (every lesbian’s favorite past-time whether we want to admit it or not), showing me, yet again, that I’ll always have this community to fall back on.

In no time Autostraddle will obvs be near and dear to the Columbia/Barnard community as I’ll be dropping AS business cards everywhere I go. I mean … it has to get better, right?

Future posts will hopefully not be so “feelings-heavy” as I explore the rest of the world here and all over the collegiate map.

But for right now all I have are my feelings … and my love for women. And I’m learning my way around.