Monday, September 11, 2006
A Coming Out Story
Dot Lazarius here. Rapping at ya from Vocal Vaginas: A Womyn's Space in Houston, Texas. This festival has been great and, let me tell you people, the southern ladies are second to none. Even the femmes down here are butch! Even better, the straights wouldn't be able to tell a dyke if she started licking their pussies. Seriously, people, the straights are clueless. Dot met one sexy butch dyke and made a perfect afternoon of helping her build a deck onto her house. At the Home Depot, the dudes were fawning all over Dot and her lady friend, talking about how cute it was that us girls were going to try to do home improvement. Same with her neighbors when we started building. In fact, we started sucking face pretty intently and they just commented on how close we were and how we must pick each others boyfriends!
Dot faced a lot of the same cluelessness growing up in the So. Ill (Southern Illinois to the uninitiated) in the Non-Isle of No-Lesbos, which I belive I have mentioned before on this blog. In fact, the cluelessness reminds Dot a lot of her coming out story.
As I've said before, Dot and everyone who knew Dot pretty much knew she was a butch dyke from the moment of birth. Everyone, that is, save for Dot's parents! Being hetero, or even acting hetero (well, except for wearing a strap-on--am I right people?), was never really an option for Dot. Nonetheless, Dot's parents still continued to ask Dot when she was going to meet a nice man and settle down. When Dot graduated from U of Illinois with a double major in Civil Engineering and Gender and Wimmin's Studies, I figured it was time to come clean with my parents.
It was Thanksgiving. I had just eaten a wonderful meal cooked by my lovely mother and had finished watching an awesome Cowboy's football game with my dad--made even more awesome that year from a sort of butch Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader! Chandra from '91 - call me!! I turned off the TV and sat the Lazariai down.
"Mom, Dad. I have something to tell you." I took a deep breath, "I'm gay."
My mom smiled warmly. Great, I thought. But no--"Oh, Dot, we're happy too!"
"No mom, I mean I'm a dyke." Blank looks. "You know, a lesbian."
"Oh Dot," said my mother "we're Armenian! You know that! Have you lost touch with your heritage?"
"No mom, I'm a rug muncher." Confusion. "A muff diver?" Raised eyebrows. "A pussy licker." Giggles. "Vagina worshiper." Nausea. "A sister of Sappho." Extreme confusion. "I'm in the clitoris club." Sideways looks. "I ride the Vulva Volvo." Shrugs. "I like to climb Mount Pubis." Stage caughs. "I drive a Labia Lexis." Blank stares. "I like to have sex with women."
"We're not gettin' ya, Dot." My dad said, and got up to get another Bud. Dot saw this as a bad sign because my father, like his daughter after him, is no good after the 5th Bud! It was time to take action. I decided to go find a butch dyke, or at least a dyke, and show my parents what my lifestyle was all about. The best place to do this in the SoILL? The SIU Carbondale Jen Massengill Memorial Tennis Courts.
At the JMMTCs I found Leigh, swinging around a tennis racket like it was a strap on. "Hey gorgeous!" I yelled out the window of my Toyota Takoma. Then I said the words no alternative-lifestyle advocate could ever say no to: "Want to help me come out to my parents?" Leigh threw down her racket, told her partner a closeted dyke needed her, and ran to the truck, her Martina-yellow dyke chop blowing in the breeze.
When I got home, I found my parents still in the living room discussing why on earth anyone would want to drive a Volvo when everyone knows Swedens a communist country. "Ok guys," I said, "this is a butch dyke!" I pointed to Leigh. "I am also a butch dyke. And this is what we do." At this point, Leigh and I start playing some serious tonsel hockey (go Blues!)
"Our Lady of Yerevan!" My mother yelled. "Our Dot is in love! With Butch Dyke! Does this mean you're going to become Dot Dyke?"
"I have been for the last 22 years, Ma," was my retort.
"Butch," my dad extended his hand to Leigh, "nice to meet you, man. I hope you take care of our little girl. We never see her with a man, and we were actually starting to worry that she might be...you know..."
Seriously, people, you can't make this stuff up. Am I right, people?
Dot Lazarius here. Rapping at ya from Vocal Vaginas: A Womyn's Space in Houston, Texas. This festival has been great and, let me tell you people, the southern ladies are second to none. Even the femmes down here are butch! Even better, the straights wouldn't be able to tell a dyke if she started licking their pussies. Seriously, people, the straights are clueless. Dot met one sexy butch dyke and made a perfect afternoon of helping her build a deck onto her house. At the Home Depot, the dudes were fawning all over Dot and her lady friend, talking about how cute it was that us girls were going to try to do home improvement. Same with her neighbors when we started building. In fact, we started sucking face pretty intently and they just commented on how close we were and how we must pick each others boyfriends!
Dot faced a lot of the same cluelessness growing up in the So. Ill (Southern Illinois to the uninitiated) in the Non-Isle of No-Lesbos, which I belive I have mentioned before on this blog. In fact, the cluelessness reminds Dot a lot of her coming out story.
As I've said before, Dot and everyone who knew Dot pretty much knew she was a butch dyke from the moment of birth. Everyone, that is, save for Dot's parents! Being hetero, or even acting hetero (well, except for wearing a strap-on--am I right people?), was never really an option for Dot. Nonetheless, Dot's parents still continued to ask Dot when she was going to meet a nice man and settle down. When Dot graduated from U of Illinois with a double major in Civil Engineering and Gender and Wimmin's Studies, I figured it was time to come clean with my parents.
It was Thanksgiving. I had just eaten a wonderful meal cooked by my lovely mother and had finished watching an awesome Cowboy's football game with my dad--made even more awesome that year from a sort of butch Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader! Chandra from '91 - call me!! I turned off the TV and sat the Lazariai down.
"Mom, Dad. I have something to tell you." I took a deep breath, "I'm gay."
My mom smiled warmly. Great, I thought. But no--"Oh, Dot, we're happy too!"
"No mom, I mean I'm a dyke." Blank looks. "You know, a lesbian."
"Oh Dot," said my mother "we're Armenian! You know that! Have you lost touch with your heritage?"
"No mom, I'm a rug muncher." Confusion. "A muff diver?" Raised eyebrows. "A pussy licker." Giggles. "Vagina worshiper." Nausea. "A sister of Sappho." Extreme confusion. "I'm in the clitoris club." Sideways looks. "I ride the Vulva Volvo." Shrugs. "I like to climb Mount Pubis." Stage caughs. "I drive a Labia Lexis." Blank stares. "I like to have sex with women."
"We're not gettin' ya, Dot." My dad said, and got up to get another Bud. Dot saw this as a bad sign because my father, like his daughter after him, is no good after the 5th Bud! It was time to take action. I decided to go find a butch dyke, or at least a dyke, and show my parents what my lifestyle was all about. The best place to do this in the SoILL? The SIU Carbondale Jen Massengill Memorial Tennis Courts.
At the JMMTCs I found Leigh, swinging around a tennis racket like it was a strap on. "Hey gorgeous!" I yelled out the window of my Toyota Takoma. Then I said the words no alternative-lifestyle advocate could ever say no to: "Want to help me come out to my parents?" Leigh threw down her racket, told her partner a closeted dyke needed her, and ran to the truck, her Martina-yellow dyke chop blowing in the breeze.
When I got home, I found my parents still in the living room discussing why on earth anyone would want to drive a Volvo when everyone knows Swedens a communist country. "Ok guys," I said, "this is a butch dyke!" I pointed to Leigh. "I am also a butch dyke. And this is what we do." At this point, Leigh and I start playing some serious tonsel hockey (go Blues!)
"Our Lady of Yerevan!" My mother yelled. "Our Dot is in love! With Butch Dyke! Does this mean you're going to become Dot Dyke?"
"I have been for the last 22 years, Ma," was my retort.
"Butch," my dad extended his hand to Leigh, "nice to meet you, man. I hope you take care of our little girl. We never see her with a man, and we were actually starting to worry that she might be...you know..."
Seriously, people, you can't make this stuff up. Am I right, people?
# posted by Dot @ 6:17 PM 
