Ellen is not alone

I'd already come out a decade before, and none of us ever thought Ellen was alone in discovering her sexuality, but sometimes you've got to run with the times and make things so much more obvious. So I bought the t-shirt in 1997, the year when Ellen came out, declaring just that: "Ellen is not alone", and I wore it to work as a statement. Not that I was coming out too, because like I said, I was already out. But not everyone chooses to recognise these things, even when it's obvious. And yes - we deserve recognition!

So, it's kind of cool that I should now resemble Ellen in this quiz.

What famous lesbian do you most closely resemble? My Result: Ellen Degeneres   You're quick-witted, smart, savvy and you have a killer sense of humor. You are an active member of the Lesbian community and the only closet you're in is the one with all your clothes.
Melissa Ethridge
Katherine Moennig
Rosie O'Donnell
Tammy Lynn Michaels
K D Lang
Portia Di Rossi
Jackie Warner
What famous lesbian do you most closely resemble? Make a Quiz

Coming out. Closet. Clothes. Did you notice how I managed to reference them all in my opening paragraph? Not just a clothes horse, me. Oh no! As for that killer sense of humour ... well ... I rest my case.

At Cross Purposes

I was cross about a lot of things twenty years ago. I still get cross occasionally, and probably about very similar things. I don't do anger well or I would use that word instead. I do get angry but it's an emotion which becomes easily confused with frustration at other people's inability to comprehend (or unwillingness to allow) my point of view, and that's when I tend to cry. I don't often cry these days, but anger will usually tip me. Being cross, however, holds connotations of English reserve and the "stiff upper lip" and perhaps that keeps me (even if in a self-conscious parodic way) on the safe side of trembly lip syndrome.

Anyway, what does this have to do with anything? Not much. It's just a way to introduce another story from my teenage diary years.

I can tell this story, and reproduce the newspaper article, because R (you remember R, the young woman I was in love with 20 years ago) wasn't at College that day, so she missed the photo-call. That's a piece of good fortune, don't you think? I can see it like that all these years later. This plays right into my hands for the nostalgic version of teenage romance, where R needs to remain as anonymous as I can keep her. Back then, of course, it was devastating to know the love of your life was lying on her sick bed several miles away, completely out of reach.

I remember the day the photographer arrived from the Hereford Times. We were in costume. I was in my full servant-girl regalia, complete with lace doilly on my head. He asked our names and wrote them down in his notebook. I can still recall the look he gave me. It was one of puzzlement. Explained later, perhaps, when the piece appeared in the paper and I was credited as "Nicholas Hastie".

Could he not tell if I was a girl or a boy, even when dressed as a maid? He should have gone for Nick and it would have worked for all. I wasn't even cross-dressing. If it looked like I was it was purely unintentional. Unlike R, who did do the full female-to-male dressing-up bit in a fatherly role, complete with greying whiskers - and I have a personal photo to prove it. It hadn't crossed my mind until now that maybe she didn't turn up because she didn't want to appear in the local paper dressed that way.

Suffice to say, being called Nicholas made me cross. Very cross. I annotated the newspaper cutting with "How dare they!!" But in a funny kind of way, it was far, far better than being called Nicola, a name I disown except in legally-binding situations.

November 8th 1986

We are putting on a play called Hindle Wakes set in Lancashire, in February - I play the part of Ada, the maid, who doesn't do a lot except carry trays backwards and forwards and repeat 'Yes Sir', 'No Sir' ('Three bags bloody full Sir'). I can't say that I look much like a typical maid with my short hair and defiant look.



I get increasingly more depressed about being a lesbian with no other lesbians to talk to. Yesterday I bought a book called Three Ply Yarn by Caiea March which tells the story of three women who develop as lesbians. The author herself is a lesbian. I have already finished reading it and found it wonderful - if I cannot meet other lesbians I have to make do with lesbian literature. It's not easy buying books with the word 'lesbian' on the book cover, even if no-one else sees it - you feel they do and that they are judging you. I was quite afraid of bringing it home and the family seeing what it is about, but they only connect the subject matter with my interest in feminism and women's issues. I often find it difficult to understand how they cannot recognise my own feelings, but it seems that they don't.

Oh, I find it so hard, and I hurt so much - knowing how difficult my life could be, living with prejudice - not being understood. One of my greatest reasons for getting away to University (as well as desperately wanting to do an English degree) is to meet other lesbians there, to join the lesbian society, and be with a community of people I can relate to and who will understand how I am feeling.

Yesterday, something that R said hurt me deeply. She said something to L suggesting that she was concerned about something or other, and L said 'Don't worry sweetheart. It'll be alright,' and touched her arm. R sprang back, saying 'Hey, get off, you' and they both laughed. R isn't a lesbian - I'm not going to get anywhere. I only get hurt because I love her so much. I feel, though, that I want to tell her I am a lesbian without mentioning I love her, because she is my best friend and I want to be absolutely open with her. I really feel I need to say something to her. I don't think she would hate me. I think she would support me as a friend - tonight there is a party at 'Mr T's' - I want to say something to R tonight, if it would be at all possible - but the thought is so frightening. I need to talk to her, though. I've made it obvious to her that I am having a trauma - she probably thinks it is because of the hassle of University applications - I would like to tell her the truth. I'm so fed up with not being able to speak my mind. I do feel so isolated within my own emotions.

Lost and Found

Given the subject of my earlier post on the politics and significance of Coming Out, I think some entries from my twenty-year-old diary should be allowed to stand alone. I'll begin with an early poem which is stepping out of the closet (the closed pages of a diary) for the very first time today.

September 6th 1986

I Did Not Want to Lose You

"I did not want to lose you."
Said a thousand times in a lifetime
to a thousand different lives.
All of them lost.
No longer mine, nor were they ever;
free to walk out and slam the door in my face.
But memories don't fade.
Occasionally the door moves ajar,
the movement of a silent puff of wind –
or is it my sigh?
And I see them standing there
in a crowd of faces of which I know none.
Moved on to a new playground
as mine has rusted over with tears.
Lost from touch, but touchingly stored,
because I did not want to lose you.


September 8th 1986

Oh, I'm so glad to be back at College. I am so happy in having seen R and in spending nearly all of the day in her company. I am incredibly happy, lively and interested when in her company. I love her; how I love her. We are good friends and nothing more, but I love just being with her, talking to her, laughing with her. She means a great deal to me. When at College there isn't so much time in which to worry and get depressed - and this is good for me. I don't have to sit and worry about what a problem being a lesbian can be, although some of my fears are lived out at College.

Sitting in the Common Room at dinner-time, all the other girls can do is sit and eye up the new first-year boys and talk really suggestively to each other about the males they sight. That's all they did today - any new male that appeared they rushed to stare at him in order to rate his dress sense and looks and to discuss how good he would be in bed. Of course I don't play a part in this conversation - I just laugh at their behaviour and refuse to mind that I play no part - but, it is quite upsetting, I must admit. It does make you realise that you're different - it's not other people who make you an outsider, it's your own thoughts. I get no enjoyment from oggling the boys. There's no point in forcing myself - I refuse to live out a pretence.

It's true what one woman said on the lesbian programme I watched - nearly all the conversation of friends is to do with some aspect of sexuality - but homosexuality is different - rather a taboo subject. It is okay to talk for hours and hours about boy/girl relationships but I am forced to keep silent about my sexuality.

R doesn't come into the Common Room. I rather wish that she did because I would sit with her, and I wouldn't mind what she did or said. It wouldn't bother me because I love her and I know I have her friendship. Love does make a great deal of difference - it is extremely important - and so very, very strong.

I was standing close to R at one point today and as she moved her breasts rubbed against my arm. I was very aware of this fact, and my thought at the time was: does she know she's doing this? I nearly allowed myself to believe that she had rubbed against me purposely because she stayed close for quite a number of seconds and made no movement to change position. I suppose, though, that she didn't notice or thought nothing of this happening because she has no thought of me sexually - whereas I am obviously going to be extremely aware of her and her body. It's sad, really, to think of the frustrations between people and the secrets that they keep.

I had thought that I might be afraid to touch R because of how I feel about her, but I am so glad that this is not the case. I have no anxiety, no nerves in touching her impulsively in order to capture her attention. This fact is a great relief to me because it shows that I act naturally with her - something which I must do. And, oh how naturally do I act! - I am so comfortable with R, so much at ease - so much in need of her being with me.

Keeping On Coming Out

My response to Julie R. Enszer's Washington Blade column.
Please read Julie's article and join the debate:

Julie R. Enszer won’t be celebrating National Coming Out Day this year. She says the focus on individual action, encouraging each person to come out and tell their story, has resulted in a whole generation of narcissistic queer people and doesn’t further the human rights cause. Julie believes that equality can only be achieved through an awareness of social responsibility and collective action.

I agree with this last part, and that an individual’s contribution to furthering LGBT rights needs to go beyond telling a friend, a family member or a total stranger. But I don’t believe you can ever promote communal responsibility by denying the impact that coming out has for individuals and for our LGBT communities.

Julie recognises how coming out continues to be significant for people newly coming out, but she thinks that “we have exhausted the potential and promise of coming out” beyond this. I can’t support this view. It is the act of coming out which gives the individual their initial access to community and access to the vital resources which are necessary to begin taking political steps forward.

Do we ever really exhaust coming out possibilities, as Julie suggests? Coming out is a process and something we have to do throughout our entire lives with each new person we meet. I’m aware that homophobia and heterosexism lead me to acts of self-censorship (however small) on a regular basis. Most of us don’t have the luxury of being always out. However out I feel in general, I don’t necessarily feel able to talk openly in conversation with everyone I meet. There will be brief encounters when it just doesn’t seem appropriate. There are other times I value self-protection.

Having to make the decision about whether to come out in each new situation reminds me that equality is far from being won. It has often been my individual vulnerability which has spurred me to communal action. Being reminded that coming out can still be a daily hurdle is why I give money to Stonewall, the UK organisation campaigning for equality and justice for lesbians, gay men and bisexuals; it’s why I have volunteered with LGBT organisations; it’s why I participate in high profile Pride marches (I can’t yet bring myself to call them parades); it’s why I write about my lesbian life at every opportunity.

I have highlighted the issue of coming out, and my own personal story, in much of my writing. Does this make me narcissistic, inward-looking? By making my story public I like to feel I’m engaged in building community and encouraging dialogue. When I was a teenager, scared and isolated, I searched for stories that spoke to me as a young lesbian and, unfortunately, I found too few of them. I may have begun my coming out twenty years ago, and my teenage experiences could now be considered historical by some, but I know that people continue to relate to and find value in this story.

There may be aspects of narcissism in queer culture, but I don’t think we should be blaming the cultural emphasis on coming out for this. Coming out isn’t enough to change the world, as those of us already doing it know; but it is a starting place for many who do wish to contribute to a larger vision. When our personal stories are gathered together they build queer culture. They are small parts of the rich queer culture that Julie herself has celebrated in another recent essay, Queer Culture: Our History and Our Legacy, where she states: “We need all forms of collecting, documenting and cataloguing our culture”.

Context is everything, and coming out continues to be powerful and significant in my life. However, I will choose the days I come out, and when it feels appropriate. I don’t need a National Coming Out Day to assist me. But I understand that other people do. So I’m not ready to get over coming out. And isn’t the point of this day that it is a day of collective action; a day we can confront our communal truth that homophobia and heterosexism are societal problems? A day that may encourage others to take their first step into community and begin a commitment to communal well-being?

I may not agree with Julie's whole stance, but I certainly agree we need opportunities to reconsider our actions and define our positions. For this reason I thank Julie for her commitment to encouraging debate, just as I admire her preparedness to be controversial.

Memory Jig

I promised I would look out some material from an unfinished project which I began back in 2001, which attempts to adapt my teenage diaries into a more interactive multimedia affair. This project takes raw material from the 1980s and attempts to set this against the backdrop of the internet.

If I could have written the same words I wrote in my diary, and actually emailed them to a 'Secret Friend' who may have responded, what difference might that have made? What if the internet had existed when I was first coming out? These are some of the questions I hoped to consider.

This project is another aspect of my Coming Out Hypertext. In fact, I originally imagined these pages as part of that story, but hadn't yet found a way to weave them in. So it's worth starting the reading there, or with my commentary.

These next few links are previously unseen. I wanted to draw out the serious nature and poignancy of the subject matter, and also lighten it by drawing attention to my adolescent urgency and intensity, allowing myself to be self-mocking. That's where the Cagney and Lacey theme fits in.

I really was a paid-up and very proud member of the Cagney and Lacey Appreciation of the Series Society (CLASS) in the mid to late 1980s. I have no evidence to back this up, but even at the age of 16 I understood there were probably a number of lesbians behind the CLASS administration. Call it a Sharon Gless fan's intuition!

Start off with Nicki's Inbox or start at Nicki's Sent Items and click between the two using the link in the top right-hand corner.

If you don't follow the link from within one of the emails, you might also want to observe Nicki's first Chatroom experience at the imaginary Girl2Girl Zone. This page is very bare of images, I'm aware of that, and I'm still contemplating what images would be appropriate to convey a 1980s online literacy. Perhaps the absence of images is what's important.

There's a lot more to be done to really round-off (do I mean complete?) this project, so if you want to encourage me to take this and the Coming Out Hypertext further, I'll be really grateful for your comments - on the blog or by email.

For another persepctive and more background on this concept of re-working memory and diaries, you could also visit VirtualDayz, the blog of Elayne Zalis, whose work focuses on digital experiments with personal and cultural memory.

Welcome to the World, Baby Dyke

It's 20 years to the week since I came out for the very first time by uttering the words "I think I'm gay" within earshot of another human being. It was very, very scary, and also exhilarating and liberating. From there, I just wanted to tell more and more people, although I chose those people very carefully, so there was no tremendous domino effect in the first year. I waited until I got to university for that.

That summer of 1986 opened up possibilities. I started to crave independence, exploration and experience. I started to understand the value of friendship, and to recognise when I wanted so much more than friendship. I dreamed of intimacy and the secrets of sex. I knew the promise contained in a woman's breasts when brushing against my arm just long enough could make my entire skin tingle and stand to attention. I got depressed and lonely because I wanted the world to change immediately for me.

I feel lucky that I still have my teenage diaries. Loads of people want to forget their adolescence, the angst and agony. I don't. I like remembering the path I've travelled, how my teenage uncertainty blossomed into ... well ... a whole string of new uncertainties! There are still plenty of reasons why I think the world should change. But at least I'm certain about who I am, and I know how to express that in a whole variety of ways, how to remain true to myself, mostly without fear these days.

In the summer of 1986 I had my first holiday with friends rather than family. We stayed on a caravan park for a week near Paignton, Devon, and it rained nearly every day. But it was a taste of freedom, a slice of the discovery I wanted life to be:

July 27th 1986

J had some cannabis and we had our first experience of drugs. We didn't smoke it in a joint, but burnt some and inhaled the smoke from under a glass. It made us feel incredibly horny - it was quite amazing how much it aroused you. We had a really good time. I was so happy - I have always wanted to do what we did last night. This is the perfect opportunity for new experiences - away from everything - no family to answer to. I think I need to get away from home more often - the taste of freedom does wonders for me.

Somehow or other, we got onto the subject of gay sex. M said she thinks everyone is bisexual to a certain extent and I said that I thought I was gay. But, I don't think in our state that I was taken all that seriously. K and L were moaning that they want their men, and L asked me if I wanted a man. My answer 'No' led her to ask: 'Do you want a woman?' My frustrations made me say 'Yes' and she said 'Oh, I won't sleep near you, then.' This statement hurt me because it is the kind of response I was expecting but didn't want.

Never mind! I don't think I was taken really seriously. K thinks women should 'just go for it' if they really want to (her words of last night). We are all getting on really well and I don't think this lot could frown upon me, but I still don't think they quite understand my feelings.


August 4th 1986

We had a fantastic holiday. I came home and developed post-holiday depression - I wanted to continue living with M, J, L and K. As well as providing great amusement and entertainment, the holiday gave me a chance to reveal my true feelings and have them accepted by two of my friends.

One night I had a detailed talk with K (L didn't hear as much - she fell asleep) until 3.00am about my gay feelings. This is such a relief to me because I have needed to share my thoughts with someone. Now that I have had the courage to admit to myself being gay I might make an easier time for myself.

Being easy on oneself - about anything - takes a whole lifetime of learning. Twenty years is a pretty solid background, though. I'm far from wishing my life away, but I aim to discover even more in the next 20.