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Lil Cameron is going to be writing a regular column, sharing her perspective of being a gay nzgirl.
It’s been three years since 22-year-old Lil came out and, despite some minor hiccups, she’s never looked back. She hopes by sharing her experiences she’ll help anyone else questioning their sexuality.
Plus, she gets so many questions from straight girls about what it’s like to be gay that she figured she may as well start a column and save them the trouble!
Got a question or comment for Lil? Hit the button below to ask her. Questions may appear on the site (don't worry we won't use your name!) but if you're not comfortable with that just request that it's not published.
Fitting in with the lesbian clique, Part 2
“Oi, carpet munchers! Carrrrrpet munchers!” The gaggle of muddy boys called out to us as they trooped around the edge of our field, snorting with post-rugby testosterone. I didn’t think they’d appreciate the point that they, too, were carpet munchers. But then again, as a soccer team made up entirely of lesbians playing in the middle of Otago University’s rugby fields, the verbal abuse was hardly surprising.
It was nine months since I had walked into my coming out group with a churning stomach and shaky hands. During that period I had slept with a girl for the first time, had an internet lover fly over from Mexico, and coped with an unintentional ‘outing’ to my parents. Needless to say, those nine months were amongst the most interesting and challenging in my life.
In those early days I had discovered that just because I was ‘out’ didn’t mean I was ‘in’ with the lesbian clique (see my last column here). But since then I had joined the soccer team called “The Purple Passions”, a name that made me snigger every time.
Belonging to the soccer team was almost like being in the lesbian mafia. At the monthly queer night I could hang out on the best seats – no more sipping my drink nervously in the corner. As a member you also received protection from the older, scarier lesbians. I could tell you a few stories about violence on the soccer field, but let’s just say it’s not a good idea to make homophobic comments around someone who could bench press you with one arm. Then there was the standard mafia-like behaviour going on – lots of sleeping around within the gang, which lead to lots of lying and cheating, which lead to fall-outs. And in a city the size of Dunedin, you didn’t want to fall out with ‘the family’.
My interaction with ‘the family’ started off slowly, but I knew I had made it when I started dating one of the core members. Jess was the only girl who had caught my eye when I first started going to queer events, and she was also the one who scared me the most. She had a swagger and confidence that bordered on bitchiness - just my type. We played together for weeks on the team before she even really noticed me, and when she did it was over a shoelace. OK, it wasn’t love and we only lasted three months, but it’s still my longest relationship, alright!
So you may think that by then I felt comfortable within the lesbian world. But in truth, every month there was something new that threw me off guard. To give you an example, every year there’s a gay and lesbian film festival. The first time I went was before I had come out, and I crept in alone at the last moment. I sat in the front row while everyone else joked familiarly and threw popcorn at each other. By the next year I’d made it into the clique, and I walked into the theatre with an obnoxious swagger just like I’d seen the other lesbians do. But as I rounded the corner I narrowly missed colliding with a large black male bulging out of a neon pink air hostess outfit. It gave me a hell of a fright, but I tried to act nonchalant as he handed me a booklet, battered his fake eyelashes and said in a gruff voice, “Here you go, love”.
There seems to be an expectation that when you’re gay nothing surprises or shocks you. It’s true that seeing two guys making out isn’t weird to me any more, nor do I assume that someone who looks like a male is actually a male (and vice versa). But I tell you what; I’m still a little bit scared of drag queens. They’re so volatile and I never know what they’re going to do next! Another thing that gets me every time is seeing armpit hair on a girl; you just don’t expect it! One morning at soccer we were changing tops after the game and I’ll never forget when Buzz, ingeniously named because of her haircut, pulled up her shirt and out sprung a forest that rivalled the Waitakere Ranges.
While the soccer team was my key to getting into the lesbian in-crowd, after a year of it I’d had enough. Imagine taking a close-knit group of girls, which can be bitchy and dramatic enough, then adding the fact that they’re all hooking up with each other. The result was spectacularly entertaining yet horribly tiring at the same time. I’m sure not all lesbian groups are like that, but the lesbian clique certainly does exist.
Now I have my own lesbian posse, and I’m very proud of it. There are only five of us, and it’s taken me two and a half years of living in Auckland to gather that number. Our wee group of friends means a lot to me, and now I don’t have to walk into queer events alone like I did so many times in the past.
If you ever see us around (we’ll be the ones dancing like idiots), come join us. Unlike many lesbian cliques, we welcome new members.
In my next column I address the question of how I knew I was a lesbian – was it the tree climbing? Was it the amount of times I rewound the kissing scene in Cruel Intentions? Or, was it the baggy culottes my mother made me wear as a child?
Until next time,
Lil
You may read this and identify with some of the feelings I had in my early gay days. If so, you don’t have to deal with it alone. Most cities in New Zealand have organisations set up to help you with the coming out process, or if you just want a chat. You should also have a queer group at your university if you’re a student. Rainbow Youth,Auckland’s young gay and lesbian support organisation are really nice and will be able to give you the contact details for your nearest support group. www.rainbowyouth.org.nz
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sharing her perspective of being a gay nzgirl.
It was nine months since I had walked into my coming out group with a churning stomach and shaky hands. During that period I had slept with a girl for the first time, had an internet lover fly over from Mexico, and coped with an unintentional ‘outing’ to my parents. Needless to say, those nine months were amongst the most interesting and challenging in my life.
My interaction with ‘the family’ started off slowly, but I knew I had made it when I started dating one of the core members. Jess was the only girl who had caught my eye when I first started going to queer events, and she was also the one who scared me the most. She had a swagger and confidence that bordered on bitchiness - just my type. We played together for weeks on the team before she even really noticed me, and when she did it was over a shoelace. OK, it wasn’t love and we only lasted three months, but it’s still my longest relationship, alright!
There seems to be an expectation that when you’re gay nothing surprises or shocks you. It’s true that seeing two guys making out isn’t weird to me any more, nor do I assume that someone who looks like a male is actually a male (and vice versa). But I tell you what; I’m still a little bit scared of drag queens. They’re so volatile and I never know what they’re going to do next! Another thing that gets me every time is seeing armpit hair on a girl; you just don’t expect it! One morning at soccer we were changing tops after the game and I’ll never forget when Buzz, ingeniously named because of her haircut, pulled up her shirt and out sprung a forest that rivalled 