Artwork

Through visual art, I have broken my silence and hit my stride in depicting other issues that come with loving someone of the same sex openly.

• "Imagine having a secret desire and needing to invent a language to talk about it even to yourself. Imagine especially valuing truth over lies and finding it unacceptable both to deny one's desire and identity, and to live in a world in which it was so systematically erased and punished that there was no other way to state this desire/identity even to yourself but in a secret code." - Check, E and Lampela, L, From Our Voices, Art Educators and Artist Speak Out About Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trandgendered Issues (2003)

Safe art was my beginning. I made photographs that were simple and mimicked what I saw in my heterosexual society. Historically there are many photographers that based their own works on the beautiful landscape. I look back now and relate the need for the landscape as my own search for my place in life. I've grown up with a common sense of home and knowing where that place is. I'm on the verge of that sense of home deteriorating literally and figuratively due to family illness and deciding the inevitable moment of choosing to be open with my family.

My current work has given me room to experiment with my views, thoughts, and concerns about how "queerness" is documented, reviewed and subjected in society. I've been timidly labeling myself as a lesbian artist. As an emerging lesbian artist, I realize that I make the choice not to exhibit my work anywhere near a place it might come in close contact of a member of my family. I would also be uncomfortable teaching in a town where I could not be compelled to advocate for my beliefs that conflict with my family's belief system. With that said however, I do not shy away from making, discussing, and exhibiting my work in any other part of the United States. In many way, the appalling lack of Queer representation in schools, galleries, museums and other social public spaces and the lack of understanding the importance of Queer artists and histories is, to say the least, needing to be recognized. My work can be categorized as a means to mitigate that factor and add dynamic dialogue to the existing discourse.

The mainstream network of individuals advocating for the most recent Queer representation has focused on non-discriminatory rights for "gays to get married". Is the constitution the "place" to define marriage between one man and one woman? If divorce were scrutinized as much as same sex marriage has been this past year, then would the President of the United States (1) be so adamant about proposing a constitutional amendment? I see hypocrisy in today's political environment; selfish individuals that authoritatively condemn what is not their own. I see others defining and packaging their detached interpretation in order to visibly show people shaking their heads in agreement, which denotes understanding, to an issue/topic that they have not investigated themselves. I have issue with "followers" that do not know what they are following or don't seem to want to know why they are following. The knowledge structure and academic system should not be based solely on my "mythical norm, white....male....heterosexual..."(2) but I believe it should be open to all variations of the norm as defined by society.

With eager anticipation I predict that my art making will contest the repression that I have placed on myself and that I have faced in my life. This emotion I believe represents that advocate, feminist, independent woman that came from female family influences. Indirectly I now see how my early childhood experiences and influences came to direct my path as a lesbian and as an artist.

(1) At the time of my original writing Pres. George W. Bush was in office.

(2) "The Next Generation; Lesbian Learning/Learning Lesbian", Check, E and Lampela, L, From Our Voices, Art Educators and Artist Speak Out About Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trandgendered Issues (2003)

Decisions

With the decision to deny myself, as a lesbian, I came to understand that my desire for other women would have to be silent. I made a pack with myself that I dare not admit to anyone, my love for women, again unless I felt certain I would be comfortable enough to stand-alone. I became shy, timid, and good at deterring annoying personal questions, asking if I was dating anyone.

As my senior year came near and the thought of college came about I had more and more questions about my future career choices than I did about the dating scene that I seemed to have escaped. It wasn't till the summer of my junior year that I had physical contact with a boy, unless I count when I was seven years old and tried the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" experience. I was just excited as relieved that now maybe I could get out from under this questionable image that had been created a year prior when I professed my love for another woman. (see next post for that story) I began to think that maybe this was the one guy that would change my mind about loving and lusting after other women. He paid attention to me, to my amazement, especially because of my physical appearance.

As quick as the boy/girl experience began it ended. I was on my own again for my senior year. I did go to my senior prom and dressed in the 'appropriate' attire and had one of my best girlfriends boyfriends, friend stand in with me as my "date" in the Prom picture. My lack of attention from boys ended when I found another inexperienced, virgin, "momma's boy", to be my boyfriend. I had taken the lead and asked him to dance, as I normally did when at a club. I had no fear of rejection from boys. They were not the threat because there were no sexual feelings or desires that factored into the situation. Our relationship began to progress normally and it was exciting at first. Even at the point I lost myself, I knew it felt wrong. I went through the motions and he was satisfied, I wasn't. Before I realized how much time had passed he was handing me a "present" (a diamond ring) at approximately five year into the relationship. I asked what this meant (knowing exactly what it meant) and as I watched the life drain from his face he explained it was a birthday present. A year later I broke off the relationship, accounting that it was "me" not "you" reason for breaking up. I cried after he left. Not out of sadness but out of joy for me.

Living With Labels

I cried every day for answers to questions that I could not face openly with both my internal and external labeled "dysfunctions". I had been raised and taught by both my family and society that "being gay" was not normal. Here I was, at puberty, with no hair (wearing an old ladies hair piece because there were not any for young kids at the time), having emotional feelings for the same sex and going to school at the height of the AIDS epidemic. To add insult to injury, so to speak, I began a long line of infatuations (which I thought was love) with many female friends, teachers and coworkers. The first one, in particular was the hardest to work through. I've heard the stereotypes and feel like a broken record by saying this but I was infatuated and in love with my athletic coach in Junior High School (1982). I selfishly soaked up the attention and mistook it for love. We maintained a friendship until the day I decided to come clean with my emotional feelings I had for her. The year was 1986; I was sure she felt the same and I went for it and professed my love in written form. With all the homophobia running rampant at this time no wonder she dismissed my letter, and me for that matter. I confronted her, thinking surely she would console me as a teacher/educator and then as a Lesbian herself. I was wrong. All I had fantasied came to a crashing, denying halt. The principal at my High School was contacted and called my Mother. I was sitting in the principals office angry and on the defensive that this matter was no one else's business except me and my coach. After that conversation went nowhere I was on my way home to meet my Mother.

My mind went numb and all I could think was that I had to deny that I was gay and in need of a convincing story. I cannot remember how the discussion began but I know that I cried a lot and continually prfessed that I was not gay. My Mothers response; "We have an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow and you are going". I look at that visit now and wish that I hadn't lied to him but instead forced the issue to begin my journey as an open, out front lesbian.

All the attention, life counseling and reassurance that I was not "gay" but "straight" became a mask to hide my identity. I needed to feel confident that I wasn't some sort of freak so I focused on the exterior rather than the interior appearance of myself, which turned out to be almost as debilitating as if I had come out. The fears I faced during junior high and high school were not the norm of some of my peers today. I didn't hear the word; dyke, fag, gay, or even queer. If there words were spoken I would duck my head and run away from the conversation or the person. My worst fears were someone who said; "I hear you wear a wig" or the fear of having someone come from behind while at the water fountain and tug at my hair. I was conscious every second of every day about how I looked, how I held my head in the wind, and how I managed to play sports without my hair coming off. All the other stuff was just internal and under my own control, at least I told myself that frequently.

Female Friend Support

I can count on one hand how many women role models I've had in my early childhood. Each influenced me in ways that I don't believe they had ever intended. From two matriarch's; a gentle, witty woman of the WWII wives club and farming community and a soft hearted, hard nosed, self sufficient independent business woman, I learned the importance of standing on your own two feet, taking responsibility for your actions and of course that all important fishing tactic of "waiting till the bobber is totally under water before you jerk your fishing pole to reel in the fish". I know now that this metaphor speaks volumes to the many trials and tribulations I faced in my pubescent years and beyond. Additionally, I've learned more from the next generation's struggles and accomplishments as society's influence pushed forth. The following matrilineal descendants range from the honorable educated homemaker to the free willing, three times married, businesswoman. As the various liberal women's movements occurred, theses women seemed to struggle and accepted to stay within the female roles' that preceded them.

When I finally realized that I had these "tingly feelings" for my female friends I also had a debilitating, horrific, occurrence in my physical body. I was diagnosed with Alopecia Areata in 1981, which the medical profession was just learning about and researching the cause and hopefully a cure. I was told it was an "autoimmune disorder", which I would come to know later as "a genetically determined autoimmune disease in which the body's T cells identify hair-follicle cells as foreign invaders and try to destroy them."

I couldn't grasp the medical jargon and the medical doctors really couldn't give me answers to what would happen to me. I felt very alone, as if I was the only one in the world that had this condition. So, here I was at age eleven trying hard to figure out both these internal feelings and emotions towards the same sex and trying to identify who I was physically. In both cases I felt dysfunctional, a freak of nature, and punished. Right away I had immediate support, with regard to my hair loss, from family and friends. I would have to stomach an occasional derogatory remark from immature, ill-informed, by-standers. I also had the sympathy from strangers who thought I must have been going through chemotherapy or something like it and felt sorry that I must be dieing so they were sure not to make a comment. My mother took it as hard as I did, if not harder. She felt like she had done something wrong. I would find out much later that she questioned herself day after day. She wished it had happened to her instead of me. She saw comfort in telling me this at the time but I don't know that she ever found comfort, at least I can guess at this because I never have found total comfort in knowing my body is rejecting itself.

Almost twenty-five years later the roles were reversed when my Mother began treatment for Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. As she started wearing a hairpiece, mine came off. For the past few years I've had a "re-growth", different than times past, and as of today I no longer wear a hairpiece. I have spots here and there that stay slick and I can cover but overall it feels like a full head of hair. I've contributed this "re-growth" due in part to the reduction of living a closeted, stressful life (which "stress" was listed at the top of the list as the leading cause of my condition at the time) and finally living my life "openly"...not to my family of course, what kind of Queer would I be if I actually came out to my homophobic family? Don't answer that!. Overall, the closet door has been cracked and open for the past 10 years and I love every minute of it.

My Life is Not…"recounting the personal"

Where I come from

My life is not a "style". Being a lesbian and/or an artist is not listed or labeled in any advertising column I've seen for "lifestyles". Various "styles" I've recently come acquainted with include: Finance, Food, Travel, Technology, Cars, Pets, and Health.

I was raised in a heterosexual step-family and I do not consider this upbringing as contributing to me being Queer but there were many issues that did deter me from admitting to being Queer. I have a somewhat skewed definition of what loving relationships between strangers and for that matter marriage is and can be. I've learned from other people's experiences that are both traditional and nontraditional in form. My art-making deals with issues based on and around these relationships including Queer identity and the female body image. In order to understand my work a little better I will recount (aspects of) my personal story.

Early on in my life I became isolated, sharing my time between two different homes with only one home really feeling stable. Moving from a small town to a the big city, because of my Mother's third marriage, was the best thing that could have happened in my early childhood. My eyeys were open and I was ready to learn. I kept to myself most of the time and watched in wonder of everyone else around me. Looking back I'm not really sure what type of identity I could categorize myself as being a part of, it never really seemed to be brought up or maybe I wasn't aware of any lables that would identify who I was. I know that "tomboy" and comments from my Mother such as; "I think your Father wishes you had been born a boy" was used often but I think I wore it as a badge of honor rather than an image I needed to change.

The begining...

Who-Who am I?
What-What will I say?
Where-Where will it go?
When-When will someone respond?
Why-Why blog?

All of these questions I have in mind as I begin this venture into diary/soapbox/platform of words in cyberspace.

Who am I? "Ain't I A Woman" - Sojourner Truth (1797-1883) thank you for your wisdom. Yes, pennygirlpearl is my name for the purpose of staying true to my anonymity and autonomy simultaneously. "Penny" because I never knew I grew up with very little, "girl" because I feel I found my way to adulthood too quick, and "pearl" cause I am not a diamond!

What will I say? "The Truth Will Set You Free but First It Will Piss You Off" - Gloria Steinem (1934- ) thank you and thank you again and again and always for providing words to my silence.
Most the time I balance my feminist writing with art, activism, and awareness all the while centering around education and finding my voice.

Where will it go? "Our Visions Begin with Our Desires" - Audre Lorde (1934-1992) thank you for empowerment. My words will come from a surface that has been baked, boiled, simmered and stewed to feed my soul.

When will someone respond? "Expect Nothing Live Frugally On Surprise" - Alice Walker (1944- ) thank you for telling me about myself. I will continue to remind myself that true validation of my words will have to come from within.

Why blog? "Life-transforming Ideas Have Always Come To Me Through Books" - bell hooks (1952- ) thank you for giving me my rage. In order to speak from within, I must speak out.