While thinking about the title for this edition of my column, I got into a dilemma. The most suitable title I could come up with was “Talking to Strangers”, but as you know, this title is already taken. And because I’m not Katina, and my column is different from hers, and I didn’t want to get the readers confused or – worse – into trouble with my fellow columnist for stealing her title, I decided to use a very different title. But while you are reading this, just keep in mind what this edition really is about: Talking to strangers or, moreover, why some lesbians seem to have such a hard time with it.

I was on vacation last week on a nice island in the North Sea. There weren’t many visitors there yet, which was perfect because all I wanted was to get some rest and I didn’t look for company. At breakfast one day, I spotted two women who obviously belonged together because they entered the room together and sat at the same table. In situations like that, it’s become a reflex for me to turn on my gaydar, and sure enough, I received some very strong gay vibes. So I smiled at them when they passed my table, but what I got back was a look that at best can be described as confused, but also showed signs of disturbance. Later that day, I met them at the hotel pool area, where the three of us were the only guests for a while. We could have had our own little Dinah Shore experience, having a pool full of lesbians and lesbians only, but that would have involved some kind of connection at the least. But again, I didn’t even get as much as a smile back, much less something similar to a small talk. So you can understand my unease when that night at dinner, the two of them were seated at the table right next to me in the hotel restaurant. It was a very quiet dinner.

Here’s the thing: When I’m on vacation or at a party or just taking a walk, I occasionally connect with other people who I don’t even know. I exchange looks, smiles or even engage in some small talk. It’s not because I’m desperately looking for company or new friends, it’s just this little something called social behaviour. One could think that it’s even easier to connect with other lesbians, given the fact that there’s already something that we have in common. But unfortunately, it’s not. Those two women at my hotel weren’t an exception, and their reaction was all too familiar to me, as I have met many, many lesbians who were exactly like that.

When I came out and started to go out to gay and lesbian clubs and parties, someone told me that it would be difficult to get to know other lesbians there. I was confused – a room full of lesbians and I wouldn’t be able to get to know someone? But I soon realized that this person was right. Yes, there were a lot of lesbians, but they usually stayed in their respective cliques and only talked to the friends they had arrived with, while otherwise observing their environment with a disturbing, almost hostile look.

It’s a behaviour that I have witnessed not only at clubs and parties, but also in everyday life and directed at straight people, and it makes me sad. Not because it affects me – I did make some very nice connections during my trip, especially with straight couples and a toddler who kept splashing water from the pool in every direction while making a lot of noise and squealing with glee ­­– but because it alienates people and adds to prejudices like the one of the tough, grumpy, hostile butch. And it makes me sad because I think that most of the time, it springs from insecurity and fear, feelings that many lesbians have internalized but that need to be overcome. We have every right to be out and proud, and we should be in order to be more visible and taken seriously.

Even if it involves returning smiles of other lesbians. Even if it involves talking to strangers.

Posted on eurOut on March 15th, 2009