In 1977 I fell in love. I was 14.
Typical childhood right of passage. Except I am a societally defined woman, and so is she. I remember thinking that I wanted to marry her. Hell, I would have even done the dishes for her. (Those of you who have read Rubyfruit Jungle will likely get this reference to the hetronormative role of the woman in a relationship.)
I did not breathe a word of my love to anyone, not even her. When she taught me how to kiss a boy, and I wanted to practice until my lips bled, I was silent. When we went skating and she was always picked for the couples skates, I watched for her to glance my way and silently pictured my arms around her slim waist. When we went to a bon fire by the lake, and she kissed her first boy, I stood silent in the darkness and cried alone.
The 70s scared me. I wish I was as brave as some others were. Continue reading “Peace and Pride from the Nitty-Gritty Writer’s own “Rubyfruit Jungle””