http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp Diva Magazine Featured Articles en-gb Copyright Millivres Prowler Limited - 2005 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/images/diva_logo.gif http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1968 She walks a neat tightrope between trans boi Max and stone butch Moira. But is The L Word's Daniela Sea selling out to big-time fame or keeping it real? JOANNA WALTERS finds out The scene was quite something: a large synagogue on New York's Lower East Side converted into an arts centre, and a pretty queer marching band, dolled up like toy soldiers, parading, parping tubas and whatnot. A substantial crowd of the glamorous, the camp, the haughty, the deliciously gender-indeterminate and New York's most famous cuddly drag king, MC Murray Hill, gradually hushed in anticipation. Then, onto the stage strode a woman who's showbiz title is Six Foot Bitch. Sporting green and pink dreadlocks, a plunging neckline and a microphone, she towered over the boy-like figure of film director John Cameron Mitchell - in long socks and shorts - as, back-to-back, they burst into a shattering rendition of 'Ca Plain Pour Moi'. Daniela wishes there were a few genuine butch lesbians on The L Word Accompanying them on keyboards, off to one side and grinning sardonically as she likes to, was up-and-coming L Word actor and girlfriend of Bitch Daniela Sea. The ridiculously fun spectacle ended with Mitchell throwing himself on the floor as this triumvirate of kooky characters lapped up applause from a crowd buzzed on free vodka cocktails and strawberries dipped in a chocolate fountain. This wasn't your usual post-film première party. Mitchell had just debuted his off-the-wall successor to Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Shortbus, in which characters spend most of their time either cringing over sexual hang-ups or throwing themselves into orgies in a non-too-subtle metaphor for the desperate search for edge and the meaning of life in post-9/11 New York. Orgy-acting extras were dubbed 'sextras', while the main characters are a straight couple and a gay male couple. The lesbian content (in which Bitch and Daniela get to appear in one brief scene) involves all the dykes hiding in a back room at the orgy, typically talking about sex rather than actually doing it. Mitchell's proud of the fact that his actors in the sex scenes actually had sex for the cameras. He asked Bitch and Daniela if they would, but they declined. 'They're lovely, but they're old fashioned,' he told DIVA with an affectionate chuckle. About three years ago, when wandering artist Daniela decided she wanted to get into acting again, she sent Mitchell her picture in preparation for trying out for Shortbus. Bitch was in the picture too, and Mitchell hired them both. Bitch had already split from her ex-girlfriend and musical collaborator, Animal. She and Daniela had fallen in love, and shortly after Daniela got hired for The L Word, using her small role as 'The Little Prince' in Shortbus to bolster her CV. Now they're blossoming as the newest edgy, punky, hippy, arty, very-out, political, activist, creative famous lesbian couple - and gradually emerging as the other side of the Lesbian Power coin from indispensable mainstream stealth-envoy couple Ellen DeGeneres and Portia De Rossi. Neither Bitch nor Daniela is hacked off that their scene in Shortbus is short - they seem to accept that's predictable. Besides, it's been useful for them and is a memorable scene in itself. The main protagonist in the film, a shy straight woman, bursts in through the door, rather shaken after having run the gauntlet of so many... 'Men?' offers Bitch. The character nods in relief. 'Hi, I'm BITCH,' Bitch adds playfully, further unsettling the woman just when she thought she'd landed among nurturing sisters. That's not an untypical part of Bitch's real identity anyway. She adopted the moniker in 1997: 'Bitch is a word that's commonly used to degrade women. So, in the tradition of "taking back" words, I named myself that,' she says. She also often calls herself Capital B, partly because 'it gets annoying introducing yourself at parties, and some dude always saying, "oh and I'm asshole",' she says. Daniela generally calls her 'B' and she calls Daniela 'D' in a relationship in which each seems very much at ease, but also stimulated by constantly bouncing ideas off the other. In the film, the lesbians in the orgy anteroom are talking about orgasms and Daniela's character, Little Prince, gets to describe her best ever. 'It's like talking to the gods,' she says. Sitting now sipping tea outside a little French cafe on the Upper West Side near the nearby apartment they share, they gossip and discuss the film, including the bit about doing live sex. 'We would've done it [had sex] if there'd been a story line around it,' says Bitch. 'But just to do it anyway would've been gratuitous,' Daniela chips in. They had both flown in for the premiere from Vancouver - their other home these days - where Sea had a few days' break from filming Season Four of The L Word. She flew back again shortly after sitting down with DIVA, while Bitch stayed in New York, ready to launch her new album, Make This, Break This. She will tour shortly with the Indigo Girls and hopes to hit the UK next spring to unleash the latest version of her brand of half-spoken, half-sung poetic power lyrics. They mix easy-access activist politics about women's rights, the environment and Bush's America (and sometimes heartbreak) with her favoured partnering of violin and guitar. In gigs these days, and when not filming, Daniela sometimes accompanies on keyboards and vocals, taking a role she cheerfully admits is deliberately minimalist. She didn't play on Bitch's solo album, and in the past has mainly been her girlfriend's roadie. When they met about five years ago, Daniela had been living for years as a 'travelling anarchist', mooching around Europe, practising communal living and crashing in squats. Bitch says D really struggled with the idea of a more settled lifestyle and 'capitalist existence' when she returned to America. 'When I met Bitch, I told her "I'm never going to make any money. This is who I am. I live life as an art form",' says Daniela. The Upper West Side is normally associated with yuppie couples with apple-cheeked babies in expensive buggies, but Bitch and Daniela live towards the Harlem end, where they stand out just enough (but not too much) from the culturally-mixed neighbourhood, in hip, punky T-shirts and - a concession to minor celebrity, surely - large fancy sunglasses on this bright autumn morning. Now Daniela is becoming quite famous via her quirky L Word character Moira-transitioning-to-Max, and she's probably earning more money than she ever did in her worst nightmares. Bitch is on the up but nothing splashes like TV, so Daniela is often recognised by strangers on the street. 'It's odd; friends are asking me, "Is this hard for you?" [Daniela suddenly being well known], but, you know, being famous has never been our goal - otherwise I'd be trying to get signed by Warner Brothers or something,' laughs Bitch. Many L Word fans are upset that the show hasn't got a real butch character - all the lesbians are so damn girlie or posh, even Shane. Then, as soon as butch hick Moira turns up, instead of being the show's proud butch she decides to take testosterone, raise money to chop her breasts off and becomes a rather aggressive little he-tyke called Max. Daniela said she's happy with her character's story line as a trans boi but wishes there were a few genuine butch lesbians on the show as well. As for Max's increasingly violent tendencies, Daniela revealed she's effectively had a running battle with the writers. She's managed to get them to tone down Max's stereotypical macho crap in some scenes, but there was one scene (she grabs her lover Jenny's arm aggressively) in which she had no choice. 'I was told that was part of my job, and that I needed to make it work,' she says. Such is the tightrope walk between soap opera and lesbian showcase that, in some ways, gives The L Word such wide appeal. Max is an awkward character, often uncomfortable to watch, and Daniela is such a new personality on the acting scene; it's intriguing, wondering how good an actor she really is. We'll need to see her in other, very different roles to be able to answer that. Sea admits there's a rawness to her acting and a strong element of herself in it, even if she and Max, with his repressed anger, are quite different people. 'I'd like to see... [how I act in other roles]. There's the Meryl Streep and then there's the River Phoenix - one chameleon, one more... Take James Dean; he's so hard to watch. You don't know if that awkwardness is him or the character. But, yeah, I feel confident that I can act,' says Sea. Both artists try to walk a line between cutting it in the tough music and acting businesses and selling out. Daniela used to hang out with anarcho-popsters Chumbawamba in Leeds and Glasgow back in the 90s, and recalls begging them not to sign with big record labels and go on TV all the time. 'But they told me they weren't changing their message, just taking it to a wider audience. It's possible to stay pretty true to your art,' says Sea. Like Bitch, Sea isn't Daniela's true surname. She grew up in San Francisco and chose it partly because she feels close to the ocean. Her striking pale, bluey-green eyes have a touch of the maritime about them, but when I ask Bitch, who grew up in Pittsburgh and Detroit, to describe them, she grins affectionately at her shy lover and says: 'She's my Siberian husky'. Bitch's relatives are originally from Wales and Ireland, and a lot of her family have always lived in Coventry. She and Daniela visit quite often to see the rellies, but find the area quite rough. Do they hold hands on the street there? 'Are you kidding? The yobs would murder us,' shrieks Bitch. 'And they think I'm some sort of fag,' chimes in Daniela. Much safer in - of all places - New York City, they link arms affectionately and go on their creative way. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1967 Life has vastly improved for lesbians serving in the British Military since the ban on homosexuality was lifted in 2000, discovers ERICA ROBERTS. But there's still room for improvement... When Lance Corporal Chelsea Bradshaw joined the Army in August 2002, she had no idea that there had ever been a ban on homosexuality in the Armed Forces. Then aged 16, she enlisted straight after leaving school, and says, 'I didn't know that there'd been any discrimination against anyone in the Army.' Chelsea paints a refreshing picture of today's Army life: she knows a lot of other women who are out, she's never had any trouble because of her sexuality, and everyone in the office where she works as a clerk is very supportive. After she entered into a Civil Partnership with Lance Corporal Rachel Gardner in February this year, the Army gave the couple married quarters so that they could live together, as would any heterosexually married couple. Yet, a mere four years and eight months before Chelsea signed up to the Army, there had been a blanket ban on homosexuals serving in the Military. The Ministry of Defence had argued that the presence of lesbians and gay men in the Armed Forces would undermine morale and fighting capability, and until January 12th, 2000 - when the ban was lifted - life in the UK Armed Forces had been a living hell for lesbians. 'They tried everything: "We know you, we've seen the way you dress". But I kept denying their accusations' At all costs, gay people had to conceal their sexual identities because the repercussions were daunting. Degrading interrogations, humiliating investigations into people's private lives both within and outside of the Forces, locker and room searches, and confiscation of private effects like books, records and posters often led to instant discharge. Donna McDonald, 30, of Cardiff is one of the many lesbians who underwent these investigations. She joined the Army when she was 17, knowing about the ban. Of the 22 women in Donna's block, 15 were lesbian. In 1997, after they all went out to a gay nightclub together, Donna and her friends were investigated: 'I don't know if they had someone follow us; I don't know how they found out.' The interrogations were rigorous. 'You were in there for a few hours. You were marched into a large officers' room with old wooden desks, and went in front of the Captain of the camp and a few other officers, in your best uniform. The Captain behind the desk was basically a solicitor, trained in law. He knew how to manipulate us. They said they'd had lockers and goods checked. I freaked, because I didn't have time to clean out my lockers. I still had stuff in the camp - books written by women, k.d. lang CDs and posters. 'When I was interviewed, they screamed and shouted at me. I was very young, very naïve. I was a baby, and was being bullied by a load of men. They tried everything: "We know you, we've seen the way you dress". But I kept denying their accusations.' Donna had an alibi: when the Army rang a straight male civilian friend, he lied for her, saying he was her boyfriend. The interrogating officers changed tack - they offered her a cup of tea, spoke in gentler tones, and said she would have a promotion and full confidentiality if she shopped any other lesbians. She denied all knowledge, and charges were eventually dropped against all of the women. Joan Heggie, now 46, wasn't so fortunate. Her life was shattered when she received an Army discharge. She joined in 1976, aged 16, fulfilling a childhood dream and completely unaware that she was gay. 'My parents let me go because they saw the Military as a substitute family. They knew I'd have a roof over my head, and that I'd be looked after.' Singled out as someone who showed leadership potential, Joan was enrolled in a scheme for junior leaders, and her future career in the Armed Forces looked promising. By the age of 22, she was a training instructor in charge of 40 recruits at Guildford. 'They'd come in with pink hair, 17 piercings and stilettos; six weeks later, they marched out the gates as soldiers. And I did it without the in-your-face screaming. I'm incredibly proud of that - and they felt that pride too.' Eventually, Joan joined the Royal Military Police, a mixed, tough environment, even by Army standards. 'You'd either wimp out or stand up for yourself. The culture was anti-gay, and the people were extremely homophobic - men were called "poofs" and "girls", and told to harden up. As a woman, if you spent too much time with other women, it would be commented on. You had to consistently watch your behaviour.' By the time she was 18, Joan was already questioning her sexuality. 'I was aware of the incredible risk. Fear held me back for a long time, and I didn't do anything about it until I was 21. Until then, I dated guys to deflect attention.' Despite her caution, in 1983, during a posting to Cyprus, Joan's career came to an abrupt and brutal end. An ex-girlfriend was posted to Cyprus as well. 'I offered to pick her up at the airport and show her around. Nothing obvious - and nobody there suspected I was gay. But the next night, when I checked the duty book where every incident had to be logged, I saw her name, and thought, "Oh, crap".' It was all there in print: her ex had asked to speak with a member of the Special Investigation Branch (SIB). 'I knew she'd handed me in. I got rid of everything that could incriminate me, and waited. Within two days, SIB wanted to search my room and interview me. 'I was constantly told if I admitted it, it would be easier to ask for a more lenient result - I could appeal, and maybe be retained and rebadged. For me, that wouldn't have been a bad result - I could have stayed in the Army.' But she was discharged, leaving her homeless, with no future, no job, an enormous hire purchase debt, and no income. Twenty-two years on, Dr Joan Heggie is now a research fellow at the University of Teesside, and is currently running a project examining what impact the lifting of the ban has made to the behaviour of lesbians serving in the British Military. 'Have things changed? Definitely. Whether or not that's 100% positively is unclear - we don't have enough evidence yet. But my first impressions are that there are very different cultures in the Army, the Royal Air Force (RAF) and the Navy. The RAF is more easy-going - but maybe that's just the particular women I've spoken to. They've had no hassle since 2000; coming out seems to be a non-event. They haven't felt persecuted. Their units have been helpful with information about Civil Partnerships and their rights.' Heggie is equivocal about the changes in the Army. 'The policies have changed for the better. And at the start of changes to policies, diversity officers are now brought into discussions. The Army says one thing - but the culture allows things to be run differently. Policy and culture differ; how policies drift down to units is up to the individual cultures of those units. It's all down to the commanding officers and how they lead their staff. They tell their staff what they want to be done - it's the luck of the draw. You might be in one unit that's fine, and then you get posted and your new unit may not be so good. 'What is clear is that the Military Police isn't a good place to be as a gay woman, even post-2000. It makes sense - they're used to hunting people down. It seems they're still giving women lots of grief about being gay. That's a shame - they're the people enforcing discipline, especially in Afghanistan and the Gulf. If they've got that attitude, problems for gay women serving abroad in very stressful situations could get worse.' All of the currently serving lesbian Military personnel who DIVA interviewed were unanimous: conditions have definitely improved for lesbians, even though not many years have passed since the ban was lifted. Caroline Chase, 52, Chief Technician at the RAF Defence College of Aeronautical Engineering near Wolverhampton, says the cultural change has been remarkable. 'I can now be openly myself. My desk regularly has copies of DIVA, Pink Paper and DykeLife on it, and I have a sticker that says, "Being gay is not a crime; hate crime is". That couldn't have happened six years ago.' Caroline is in her 23rd year in the RAF, and understands that there's still some way to go in changing hearts and minds. 'I work with 13 guys, and because I'm fully open, they respect me. But I think they find it strange - it's early years. The policies are in place. It's up to people like myself to educate others. But that takes time. It's going to take another generation for it to become second nature.' Lieutenant Commander Helen Flint, who's been in the Navy for 13 years, points out how far the Service has come: 'In March this year, one of the keynote speakers at the Stonewall Workplace conference was Vice-Admiral A J Johns, Second Sea Lord and Commander-in-Chief Naval Home Command. It's incredible that such a senior officer is so behind all of the changes; and now the Navy has won 75th place in the Stonewall workplace equality index. That's an incredible achievement, just six years after the ban was lifted.' Helen's life as a gay serving member has improved vastly. 'Before 2000, and to some extent, for a while after, I had to be invisible. The best way I can describe it is by using a parallel from Star Trek. The Klingon ships had a cloaking device they used to make themselves invisible. That's pretty much how I felt - I'd switch my cloaking device on at work. It takes so much energy to keep that working - it's diverted away from more important things. That energy's not needed any more; I can be me in my work place. It's had a knock-on effect in my private life. I have nothing to hide any more. My partner and I had our Civil Partnership on December 21st last year. As soon as that happened, my naval category changed: I was equivalent to a married person.' This entitles the couple to all benefits offered to married service personnel, including pensions and housing. One area that many lesbians agree needs improving is communications. Unless you work in an area responsible for the dissemination of information, it seems difficult to find what your entitlements are, or what the new policies regarding homosexuality entail. Equally, heterosexual members of the Armed Forces seem less informed than their civilian counterparts about lesbian and gay issues. Lance Corporal Rachel Gardner said, 'I don't think anyone knows much about Civil Partnerships in the Army. It's not pushed out there much. People still ask me what it entails, and what rights I have.' Corporal Amanda Wright, 33, has served in the Army for eleven years. She describes a very supportive culture, and is positive about the changes - but reveals that most personnel are still don't know about the new policies. 'I don't think the policy changes or our new rights have been well communicated to us. They filter through word of mouth more than anything else. It should be better communicated; there are so many things that you don't know you can claim for. And I had no idea that the Forces are now allowed to march on Gay Prides - although the Navy is the only one that's allowed its members to march in uniform. You never really know things unless you go and find out.' Because Rachel had worked as a Military clerk, she knew where to look for the information about her entitlements. 'If you go to your regimental admin office, you'll get talked through everything. The information is available - you only have to ask.' But perhaps this communication strategy - relying on members proactively seeking information - isn't enough to bring about deeper, lasting changes in the hearts and minds of serving personnel, both queer and straight. If the Armed Forces really want to create a welcoming, supportive, diverse environment where people of all sexual identities can thrive, this is a challenge still to be faced. And, to communicate the changes to the civilian world, perhaps the Army and the RAF should consider following the Navy's example: allow serving members to march in uniform at Gay Prides. www.proud2serve.net is a site aimed specifically at the gay Military community in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1966 Lesbian teenagers are having sex more frequently and earlier than their straight mates but, asks LOTTE JEFFS, is it cause for concern? I was queuing for the bar in a Soho gay club. Sweaty strangers spilt beer on my shoes and I was gearing up to give the gamine girl next to me a good nudging for getting all up in my personal space when I realised she was my 15-year-old cousin, Amy - last seen on the children's table at Christmas. She dragged me over to a group of pint-sized punks. 'These are my friends,' she said, 'and this is Ally. We're seeing each other.' Before I could convince myself that they probably just hung out at the library, Amy shoved her tongue down Ally's throat. My instinct was to haul her underage ass out of there, but I struggled to work out my emotions. It wasn't so much that Amy was now out and proud, it was that she was out on the gay scene and, to quote Queer As Folk, was evidently 'doing it - really doing it'. At just 15, Amy's embroiled in a world of sex, clubbing and school work. And she's no exception: she's one of a growing number of young lesbians across the country, who are coming out, going out and hooking up like never before. 'We'll mess around in bed, talking and having sex. I lock the door and tell my mum we're revising' Lesley O' Brien is a youth worker who runs a Portsmouth LGB group and the club night U4ria for young, gay people. Lesley, who also works with non-gay kids, claims that sexual activity is higher among lesbians than straight females of the same age. She says: 'Teenage lesbians are certainly a lot more aware and active than I ever was.' Katrina, 14, lives in Portsmouth. She's too busy 'staying in with [her] girl' to bother with U4ria. 'We just chill in my room,' she told me. 'We'll mess around in bed, talking and having sex. Sometimes we'll be there for the whole day. I lock the door and tell my mum we're revising.' The fact that the UK has the highest number of teenage pregnancies in Europe has been headline fodder for years. But with the latest figures from the Office of National Statistics suggesting that the rate of conception for 15- to17-year-olds in the country is falling, perhaps it's time we turned our tutt-tutting attentions elsewhere. With reduced risk of contracting STDs, no worry about getting pregnant or being hailed the school hussy by boasting boys, young lesbians have no reason not to consummate their sexuality. And before commitment gets in the way, they're sleeping around without a second thought. Amy put me in touch with her ex, 16-year-old Lucy, who was now living with a foster family in Manchester. She told me: 'I don't do relationships. I know loads of fit dykes - I'm like (androgynous heartthrob) Shane on The L Word - I just want to fuck.' Amy's best mate, Scarlett, also 16, is straight and seemingly sensible. Did she, too, veer recklessly from one sexual conquest to another? 'Nah. I've got a boyfriend. He's 17 and he's asked me for sex, but there's too much to lose, ' she admitted. Scarlett's band of girly friends - the three 15-year-olds - were all virgins. 'I fancy boys and 'course I've been on dates,' said one girl, 'but taking it further just gets stressful. Plus, I'd be so ashamed if I ever got a disease like they go on about in PSE.' All that time spent rolling condoms onto cucumbers in sex-ed lessons appears to be having an impact, and countless surveys are painting a more positive picture of teenage straight sex. Now, young lesbians need to be listened to, and their sexual behaviour examined, in the same way. We live in a far more gay-friendly society, and from Ellen to The L Word lesbian teens have access to a wider range of role models than back in the day when k.d. lang was king. It's easier to be young and gay than it was ten years ago, but we're still a long way from the mainstream media offering a blueprint for same-sex relationships, just as every advert, music vid and magazine does for straight teens. Far from discouraging young lesbians from sexual activity, this lack of exposure to when, where and how they should have sex has meant they're engaging in relationships without the comfort of context and - as Amy was demonstrating - making up the rules as they go along. Gareth Davies, youth programme manager at the Terrence Higgins Trust, is concerned: "Emotionally, 15 -year-olds gay girls may not be ready; having sex too early can be traumatic, especially if they lack the kind of support their straight peers are offered.' Gareth stresses the fact that young girls who only have sex with girls can still get certain STDs - although, let's face it, the threat is minimal. One very real risk for lesbian teens like Lucy - who are oozing bravado about their sex lives - is homophobia. 'I do worry for their safety,' says youth worker Lesley. 'Some girls don't realise we live in an often prejudiced society. I don't want them to be frightened of being themselves; I want them to be aware, safe and happy.' The tight-knit friendship groups forged by many young lesbians can protect them from homophobia, bullying at school or unsupportive parents. 'It's all about Myspace,' Lily (a self-proclaimed Soho veteran at just 15) told me. She has a vast network of friends online and it was here that she met Amy and the group of pre-sixth form school grrls she hangs out on the scene and has sex with. Lesley's happy to encourage teenagers to experience gay nightlife. 'It's an important part of their development,' she says. But sex and the scene are inextricably linked. Perhaps that's why 14-year-old Jan from Solihull was the only young lesbian I spoke to who claimed she wasn't ready for sex: 'I go on Myspace and meet all these cool gay girls, but they live in London or Manchester - I'd never get in to the clubs where they go to pull even if I wanted to. I sure don't look 18.' It seems that the licentious lives of Amy et al are partly the result of having a shamelessly sex-obsessed and extremely accessible scene on their doorstep. Maybe Jan would feel differently if she were able to spend Saturday nights in cruisey gay indie clubs. But how were all these big city baby-dykes blagging their way in? I asked my über-cool, underaged cousin. 'Fake IDs are back-up,' she explained, giving me that withering 'Are you really that stupid?' look teenagers do so well. 'But you've got to have the attitude.' And 13-year-old Clare from Leeds certainly does. She's just come out and is 'telling everybody'. Clare said: 'I had sex with a girl friend when I was 11. I know that's pretty young, but we were on a school camping trip and were just trying it out, I guess. Since then I've had three girlfriends, but now everyone knows I'm gay, I hope I'll get more!' Amy invited me to her place for a getting-ready session before a night out and opened the door with a semi-naked girl - 'Ally, my girlfriend; remember?' - draped around her. In her den of a bedroom, she presided over the girls, helping out with eyeliner and spiking up hair. I watched the transformation from school to cool; they sprawled across each other on the single bed and Amy and Ally made a point of making-out. I was running out of ways to divert my eyes from the almost-orgy, and having to sit on my hands to stop myself prising them apart and phoning their parents. 'Most lesbians our age have done it.' Lily put it prosaically. 'I mean, sex with a girl isn't a big deal like it would be with a boy.' And there's the rub - because that's all it is with girls, isn't it? Judging by Amy's behaviour, it seems sex often stems from the kind of intense friendships built up between teenage girls. It's been the stuff of boarding school bedrooms for years, only now a more inclusive society has enabled them to make firm decisions about their sexuality, based on these experiences. But Neville, a telephone counsellor for ChildLine, isn't convinced that girls like Clare, Amy and her friends are as sexually secure as they appear. He's received calls from young lesbians who say they feel 'totally out of their depth' with their sexuality and sex lives: 'I had one 15-year-old caller whose girlfriend had been spreading rumours she was crap in bed,' Neville told me. 'She was devastated and lacking any ability to deal with the situation.' I don't think Amy will regret coming out young, but it'll be tough when many of her 'gay' friends realise they like boys. 'I know how that feels already,' Amy admits. She tells me how her last girlfriend - a 15-year-old Myspace date - took her to a music festival, smoked a spliff and realised she was straight. But as one of the few young dykes who feels sure about her sexual identity in a maelstrom of adolescent experimentation, getting messed around by girls is something Amy will just have to get used to. For all my anxieties about Amy doing too much, too young (sleeping around when she should be studying, and having the kind of passionate passing relationships with girls which are destined to end in tears), I can't help feeling she's lucky. She'll never have to go on awkward dates with gangly, pubescent boys. There'll be no bolting out of the back row of a cinema after he tries to unhook her bra. No angst, wondering if she's wrong, or weird, or just plain confused. For her, it's been a joyfully uncomplicated journey from fumbling under the duvet with a friend to hitting the lesbian scene and having the kind of sex I only dreamed of at her age. It's going to take me a while to get used to the fact that Amy is 15 and knows more about music, fashion and flirting than me, but when it comes to the foibles of first love, there's still a lot I can teach her. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1919 A terrible thirst threatens to strike JOANNA WALTERS as she hikes the canyons of Utah A lesbian never likes to be ill-prepared, least of all for a camping trip. Yet here I was, about to head into the wilderness lands of southern Utah with my tent and all my gear, and I had left out a vital item. No, not tampons. Or even toilet paper, or the Swiss Army Knife. But water purifying tablets. The trip had been hurriedly arranged as a side-visit from the regional town of Moab, a funky adventure-sports and nature lover's mecca informally dubbed 'the mountain bike capital of the world', where I had been cycling, hiking and sightseeing amid Utah's amazing red-rock formations. I planned to camp in the national park of Canyonlands, carrying everything I'd need for three days and nights. I knew there were no toilets or showers, but the map showed a symbol for water near my campsite, which I assumed meant a tap for filling my Platypus water container. But at the warden's office on the park outskirts I was told that the water symbol on the map simply meant there is a feeble stream nearby, er, usually, if there has been enough rain Yellow and crimson desert flowers burst out of thin, red soil and the nights are dark, silent and starry You fill your water container from said 'supply', and unless you want to risk a stomach upset, add purifying tablets. Yipes. Did they have any for sale? No. Was I miles and miles from the nearest shop? Yes. Would I have to abandon my camping trip? No, said the warden, I would have to fill all my water containers at the tap in the last car park at the edge of the park, and then carry all the water I need for my whole trip to my campsite, which was three miles away across undulating trails through rocky canyons. The weight of my pack, with tent, poles, pegs, sleeping bag and mat, clothes, stove, camera and three days' worth of food was already enough to make me stagger. I considered bursting into tears. Then the voice of an angel said: 'I have some spare tablets in my truck.' When I turned around, two cute, obvious, sporty dykes had come into the warden's office. Solicitor Jennifer Albright, 33, and her girlfriend Janella Masse, 29, who works in a DIY superstore, introduced themselves and said they were up from their home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, for a long weekend of hiking, camping and biking in the Canyonlands. Jennifer ran out to her yummy butch truck and came back with a tiny brown bottle full of priceless iodine tablets, assuring me that, like a proper dyke normally would, she had brought double. My trip, and my dodgy back, were saved. As I trekked alone, up and over smooth sandstone outcrops and up and down rough, stony trails, I knew that I would have collapsed carrying several gallons of water. And as individual camping pitches have to be booked and the park was full, I could not have just camped nearer the car park. I reached my allocated pitch an hour before sunset. When I had put it up, my tent was all alone, surrounded by the towering, bulging, colourful walls of the sandstone canyon. A quarter mile away was a semi-stagnant creek packed with gliding insects. The water supply, mmmm. Hooray for iodine. Next day I scrambled and climbed up to the canyon rim to see the panorama of rocks that have formed themselves over thousands of millennia into spectacular shapes of meringues, giant needles and human-like figures. The hiking is tough but spectacular, climbing up and down into side canyons, with endless variety and spectacular landscape views across hundreds of square miles of labyrinthine, protected parkland. Here the lizards move fast, and the people are few. Yellow and crimson desert flowers burst out of thin, red soil and the nights are very dark, silent and starry. For a toilet, you dig a little hole each time and fill it in again. For washing - well, you don't. Far from being far from civilisation, however, this felt like civilisation. Primitive and calm. But once you have run out of boil-in-the-bag Indian meals from the health food store in Moab, it's time to trek back to the car and return to town and a hot bath. Utah is the most pro-Bush, Republican state in America, judged on voting statistics, one of the most conservative, and of course the nucleus of the controversial, anti-gay Mormon religion with its headquarters in state capital Salt Lake City But, surprisingly, Salt Lake City is increasingly gay-friendly. And the nearby trendy town and ski resort, Park City, and sports-magnet Moab further south are liberal oases in the right-wing Utahan social landscape. Moab was a uranium boom town in the 1950s, but had to reposition itself after the mining petered out, and during the 1980s it began to attract increasing numbers of mountain-bikers when the sport was in its infancy. It has been building from there ever since. It is a major tourist base for sightseers and hikers to Canyonlands and the nearby Arches national park, which has incredible red-rock formations. And has nurtured its reputation as a sports adventure centre. Driving into town, the first thing you see is the Colorado River snaking beneath towering red cliffs, rarely without rafters and kayakers upon it, then the main road is dotted with mountain bike hire shops. There is the macho-motorised end of Hummer off-roading safaris and powerboat trips, but many prefer the 'greener' sports of hiking, biking, climbing and camping. I had never been drawn to mountain biking, but was an instant convert after pedalling about on the vast sandstone plateaux in the area, cycling around huge, ancient mesas that look like scaled-down versions of Uluru (Australia's Ayers Rock). The death-plunge at the end of Thelma and Louise was filmed near Moab, not in the Grand Canyon at all as the characters make out in the film. The area was a regular set for John Wayne films, too, and horse-riding is popular in the area, even if walking down the high street in a ten gallon hat packing pistols is not, so stop fantasising, girls. You won't see many rainbow flags blatantly fluttering on Moab's high street. But there is a right-on atmosphere, and if you switch your gaydar on as you wander between the funky cafes, art and book shops, and pubs, it will soon start pinging, especially for sporty or mother-earth lesbians. Getting there Delta (www.delta.com, 0845 600 0950) flies Gatwick to Salt Lake City; American Airlines (www.americanairlines.co.uk, 0845 7789 789) from Heathrow, via US hub airports. Moab is four hours' drive from Salt Lake City. Virgin Atlantic (www.virgin-atlantic.com, 0870 380 2007) flies non-stop to Las Vegas, eight hours' drive. Car hire: Enterprise (www.enterprise.co.uk, 0870 350 3000). Activities Moab Cyclery (www.moabcyclery.com) bike rental £19 a day; £40 half-day tour. Horse-riding from Red Cliffs Adventure Lodge (www.redcliffslodge.com), £32 half-day group trek. Rafting from Moab Adventure Centre (www.moabadventurecenter.com), £21 half day. Canyon Voyages (www.canyonvoyages.com) rents camping gear. Where to stay The five-star Sorrel River Ranch (+435 259 4642, www.sorrelriver.com), rooms from £110. Castle Valley B& B (+435 259 496, www.castlevalleyinn.com), from £53. Rustic Inn Motel (+435 259 6177, www.rusticinnmotel.com), from £16. Further information www.discovermoab.com www.utah.com. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1918 She's been dubbed the feminist antichrist - whether or not you agree with her, Camille Paglia isn't going to shut up. KATRINA FOX listens in When she burst onto the scene with the publication of her first book, Sexual Personae, in 1990 at the age of 43, Gloria Steinem labelled her anti-feminist and compared her with Hitler. Sixteen years on, her predictions about the decline of old-school feminism and the rise of sex-positive queer culture are plain to see. 'I belonged to a wing of feminism that was ostracised and silenced, and we suffered for decades during the hegemony of the puritanical anti-sex wing typified by Andrea Dworkin, Catharine MacKinnon and so forth,' Camille Paglia says during a telephone interview from her office at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia where she is Professor of Humanities and Media Studies. 'So when I suddenly seemed to appear like a Jack-in-the box in the early 90s, with a book it had taken me 20 years to write, people were determined to say I was anti-feminist. I said, "no I'm not, I'm anti you, I'm anti the feminist establishment".' It's obviously a sore point and Paglia becomes more animated as she continues on the subject of feminism, which she argues is currently at a low ebb in the US. 'Gloria Steinem was out there, never having read a word of what I'd written, comparing me to Hitler, comparing Sexual Personae to Mein Kampf,' she says, indignantly. 'This is a level of ineptitude and evil - and I'm not kidding, evil - from these women who lie, lie, lie. In America, organised women's groups finally undermined themselves and lost credibility. Feminists are demoralised right now; they've suffered a total collapse of prestige - there are no leading figures in feminism.' 'I do not believe there should be two mummies in any family; there should be one mummy and one co-parent.' What about Ariel Levy whose book Female Chauvinist Pigs discusses the negative effects on women of the rise of raunch culture? 'That book is a mess, an outrage,' Paglia snaps. 'The woman does not do research. She goes out and talks to a few young women. It's all anecdotal, fuelled by her particular neurosis - she set feminism back in terms of journalism. On the other hand, I've been saying in public for five years, as someone who's endorsed prostitutes and strippers and that whole extreme of sex-positive experience, that I'm concerned about the effect on young people growing up in a climate where it's gone to the opposite direction. We have got to a point of meaningless exhibitionism without real eroticism and I'm for eroticism.' Love her or hate her, but you certainly can't ignore her. With the publication of Sexual Personae and subsequent works such as Vamps and Tramps in 1994, Paglia was vilified not only by the feminist movement, but also by many in the gay and lesbian community who took offence at what they called her 'politically incorrect' viewpoints (gay men are decadent, lesbians are miserable) and labelled her among other things 'neo-conservative'. But it's all water off a duck's back for the fast-talking 59-year-old Italian-American who's been in a relationship with her partner Alison Maddex for 13 years and is now co-parent to Maddex's three-year-old son, Lucien, and she remains as outspoken as ever about queer activism, in particular the push for same-sex marriage. 'This has caused the biggest backlash in this country - it really angers me how we've gone backward,' she says. 'There's tremendous anti-gay animosity that's built up because of this push for gay marriage. I'm a lapsed Catholic but I respect religion [and] I think there's something really wrong trying to argue that religion needs to accommodate itself to people's expectations and desire. Gays should not be asking for marriage but for some new sort of contract that we could induce dissenting heterosexuals into also.' And although she approves of the 'rainbow baby' or 'gaybe' trend and is enjoying being a parent, she takes issue with the notion of a child having two mothers or two fathers. '[Being a parent] has come at the right time in my life,' she says. 'There's no way a woman with a child could have written Sexual Personae, because it required fanatical devotion. I objected early on to what I felt was a sickeningly saccharin propaganda book Heather Has Two Mommies. It wasn't that I was speaking against lesbians becoming co-parents, but it was a politicised distortion that was not in the best interest of the children. I do not believe there should be two mommies in any family, I believe there should be one mommy and one co-parent.' In addition to her love of art, Paglia is renowned for her embrace of popular culture, so with three seasons of a show featuring the lives of lesbians having screened in the US, what does she think of The L Word? 'The first year, I despised it - I thought it was the stupidest thing,' she recalls. 'I hated the way it showed lesbians as unprofessional. If the women had professional responsibility, they were always undermining it by doing something idiotic and I felt it gave lesbians the reputation of being self-consumed in an eternal lesbian drama. But I got back into it in the third year and overall I'm delighted. I think The L Word is changing people's ideas of what lesbians look like. There's been nothing so powerful in a long while.' 'There was period in lipstick lesbian chic in the early '90s where they had kd lang on the cover of New York magazine in a mannish stylish shoot. New York magazine had asked me to write that cover story and I said, "What does lesbian chic mean? If it means chic lesbians, I don't know any" - this was before I met my partner. So kd lang was being marketed as somehow this cutting edge but she couldn't sustain that, it's not her. They had her pose with Cindy Crawford on the cover of Vanity Fair, and I thought this is embarrassing, kd is a bashful, rather awkward person who was basically a folk singer once. They were dressing her butcher than she was - she's just like this big, soft-hearted creature, she's like a big puddle of honey and molasses.' For years Paglia, a self-confessed 'idolator of Elizabeth Taylor, pagan Goddess' since the age of 13, has called for a model of bisexuality whereby people can feel free to explore sexual experiences and identities without being forced to take on a label such as 'gay', especially at a young age. 'My experience has been bisexual but my love life has been entirely lesbian - that is, I've never fallen in love with a man, but I am equally attracted to men and women, always have been,' she says. 'We need to promote a model where it's free to move back and forth between borderlines.' To this end, she's 'very concerned' about the trend for young lesbians to self-administer testosterone and undergo surgery such as a double mastectomy as they experiment with 'trans' identities. '[This] may have serious physical and psychological consequences in later life,' she warns. 'I identify strongly with the transgendered. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I felt as if I were the wrong sex. If the current trend had been operative when I was in high school or college, I would certainly have been experimenting with male hormones. But I think that would have been a terrible mistake. Instead of modifying my body to conform to my male spirit, I put all my bottled-up energy into ambition and creativity. I worry that too many young lesbians believe that infusions of male hormones will remedy their sense of isolation and alienation. But perhaps those are psychological issues that demand psychological responses - new tracks of spiritual self-development and achievement. Many transgendered individuals do "pass" in general society, but many others, after their surgical modifications, may be confining themselves forever to the margins, to the supportive burrow of a ghettoed world from which they fear to stray.' It's this kind of ghettoisation that Paglia is on a mission to stop. 'I have questioned the movement about young people coming out in high school,' she says. 'If you can produce a situation where non-conforming individuals of all kinds are protected from harassment, that's for the good, but when you have people being encouraged by adult gay activists to declare themselves as being gay early on in a period which should be more fluidly experimental, I think it's wrong. There is no gay gene - that is the biggest crock out there at the moment. I'm making a call to other gay writers, to say the period of identity politics is over. I'm saying to everyone, use your talents - if you're gay, black, Asian, whatever - use them to address universal human questions. Stop trying to push young gays back into the ghetto: let them out, let them think of addressing and speaking to a general audience - that's the true mission of the gay intellectuals of the 21st century - yes they're gay, but they're intellectuals first.' Camille Paglia's latest book 'Break, Blow, Burn', in which she analyses 43 of 'the world's best poems' from Shakespeare to Joni Mitchell, is published by Vintage http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1917 With Wire In The Blood, the TV drama based on her novels, gripping Wednesday night viewers, Val McDermid talks to LOUISE CAROLIN If you were expecting a grim mansion on a dark, doomy street, you'd be disappointed. It doesn't look like the sort of place one of Britain's most successful crime writers might hole up, this spruce little cul-de-sac in a cosy, well-heeled suburb of south Manchester. But this is where Val McDermid, on whose novels the popular Wire In The Blood TV series is based, lives when she's in town. Fans of detective thrillers and/ or lesbian fiction will also recognise her as author of the Lindsay Gordon books (starting with Report For Murder). It's the Tony Hill/ Carol Jordan series, though, providing the inspiration for Wire In The Blood, which command billboards in tube stations and mainstream acclaim. Crime fiction has always been a realm of the queer (think of Patricia Highsmith), and lesbian detective fiction was one of the most popular 'cross-breed' genres to emerge from the 1980s lesbian publishing boom, but McDermid is a rare beast - a lesbian writer who's crossed from sub-genre to mainstream and who, when she wants to, nips back. 'They have hard toilet paper in Windsor Castle,' she reveals. 'Isn't that depressing? Ushering me into the front room (kids' photos, soft carpet, author's copies neatly stowed on the bookshelves), she reappears with coffees and a plate piled with biscuits. McDermid, now 51, has a bluff, pleasant presence; stout, ruddy faced, white-haired and unmistakably dykey. And Lord, she can talk. Before my questions begin she's off, recalling the old days of shorthand and public phone boxes: the torment of journalists before pocket Dictaphones and mobiles eased the way. Her accent - Scottish over-layered with regional English - veers all over the map as she adopts appropriate tones to enliven her anecdotes. She's a born storyteller, that much is plain. 'I always wanted to write, from the point I realised that this was a job, that the books didn't just arrive in the library by magic, that somebody actually wrote them and got paid money for it, like being a teacher or a miner,' she recounts. (From a 'very working-class' family, both her grandfathers were miners.) Academically forward, she left school at 17 to go to Oxford University (where she came out) and subsequently entered a graduate training scheme in journalism, a decision based partly on self-knowledge and partly on misapprehension: 'I knew I was going to have to get a job, but I also knew that I was essentially unemployable, having always had real problems with authority. I'm a Gemini with Gemini rising, so my boredom threshold is incredibly low. So I was stuck with something that was non-hierarchical and wasn't some 9-5 existence where I'd be on the same bus every morning. It seemed to me that journalism was the only possible option. And I had this quaint notion that journalism was something to do with writing, which I was swiftly disabused of. Honing your sentences to a magnificent, lambent state is not usually what being a journalist is all about. It's more like, "Fuck, I've got five minutes to get this in or I miss my deadline", standing in the pouring rain, in a phone box, with a puddle forming round your feet, shouting down the line at some deaf copy-taker.' She excelled in the 'ferociously competitive environment' of the training scheme, winning the title Trainee Journalist of the Year at 22, and the accompanying prize of an interview with Prince Charles. 'They have hard toilet paper in Windsor Castle,' she reveals. 'Isn't that depressing? You'd think the richest woman in the world would have nice soft toilet paper, but no. But they do have little hand-towels with EIIR embroidered on them.' A first job on Scottish paper, the Daily Record, led to work for the Mirror Group in Manchester, but before long she was falling out of love with her trade and the tabloids: 'I believed that working-class people deserved news media that was entertaining as well as informative, but by the early mid-80s Murdoch had started the relentless slide into the gutter that everyone else followed. I just felt there was no place for someone like me in that world any more, so I started digging my escape tunnel.' Modest about staff cuts that elevated her to the position, she describes the pressures of working through the Lockerbie and Hillsborough disasters as Northern Bureau Chief, and the rampant institutional sexism that kept female journalists out. 'When I went to Manchester to work for the Mirror Group, they employed 137 journalists there and three were women. When a job vacancy came up I recommended a woman I knew to the editor and he said, "Why would we take on another woman? We've already got you." That's how it was. One did what one could to change people's attitudes, but it was like a brick wall.' By the time she was able to seize voluntary redundancy she'd already published her first Lindsay Gordon book with feminist publisher The Women's Press. As a full-time novelist, she found her former career stood her in good stead: 'Writers who've been journalists are very workmanlike about it. The news doesn't wait for you to be in the mood to write the story. You quickly learn that whatever's going on in your own life, you can still get some words down on paper. That was the most valuable thing I knew, even on the really bad days, at least to try to get something down. But that sense of a job of work, rather than the belief that you have been singled out to be the vessel of this extraordinary gift from the muse - it's about discipline.' After modest success with her lesbian amateur sleuth, McDermid switched tracks to produce a new series featuring Kate Brannigan, a straight female PI, somewhat in the mould of Sara Paretsky's V I Warshawski, with a lesbian best friend. Her later novels completed the shift towards mainstream but her work still provides gay readers with a strong sense of recognition. 'I write about the world as I experience it,' she explains. 'I don't live in a ghetto. I don't just have lesbian friends, I don't just do lesbian things. There's undoubtedly a place for "our literature", which doesn't have very much to say to straight people, but I also think it's very important that our world is there, embedded in the rest of the world, so that the mainstream novel has gay characters. One of the reasons I wrote the Kate Brannigan books was entirely subversive. I figured that a really good way to get straight people to read lesbian crime fiction was to write a successful series with a straight character. And that has been borne out both by sales figures and the reactions I get from straight readers. I get all kinds of people, male, female, straight, gay coming up and saying how much they like the Lindsay Gordon books. And some of them have gone on to read books by authors like Stella Duffy and Manda Scott because they've read a lesbian crime novel and it hasn't frightened them.' She continues to pursue the story that 'burns brightest' for her, using different formats and characters to explore different concerns. The sixth Lindsay Gordon book, Hostage To Murder, deals with issues of parenthood and was published soon after McDermid became a parent herself. She shares custody with her ex-partner of their five-year-old son. 'Any close relationship with young children alters your sense of how safe the world is,' she comments, but maintains that she's always been able to close the door on her work after 6pm. Nevertheless, it must be hard to live with a lot of the information she comes by in the cause of research. One true tale she retells leaves me with such bad heebie-jeebies, I've been trying to forget it ever since. Though she alludes to difficult events in recent years, McDermid's personal life now appears blissful and calm. Lately married to her American partner, publisher Kelly Smith, she spends downtime at her east coast retreat in Northumberland, walking on the beach, with imaginary dogs Rita and Delores, 're-setting the zeroes'. In October she'll be reading at Britain's largest lesbian gathering, the York Lesbian Arts Festival, which she's supported since its inception six years ago. She looks forward particularly to 'the uplift of being in this space with all these dykes. It doesn't matter what kind of lesbian you are, you're included. It's a big tent.' Given the numbers that show up, that's a good thing: 'The woman from the Arts Council last year was gobsmacked to be at these panels and there were 400 people in the room where normally she sees eight. It's fantastic to see the level of enthusiasm for lesbian arts and culture generally. And for me one of the highpoints is the conversation you have with other writers. We sat down on the Saturday night with this extraordinary ever-expanding group of people and talked about everything from what's your favourite flower to who's slept with Dusty Springfield! It was wild.' And guess what? No-one got murdered... www.valmcdermid.com www.ylaf.co.uk http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1916 As the new equality regulations take effect this month, baby-boomer lesbians who've been out and proud for years will be preparing to move into retirement homes. But is the housing sector ready? ERICA ROBERTS investigates Until Manchester-based Jane Oulton spent four years caring for her ageing father, she'd never seriously thought about her own old age - least of all about where she might live during her twilight years. But it was the constant battles that she faced trying to secure good quality home care for her father - and later, when he became very frail, a good nursing home - which prompted her to think about her own future. 'Public provision was so rubbish,' she says. 'And that was for an ordinary, conventional straight bloke! It did get me thinking about what it was going to be like for me, as a lesbian - I couldn't imagine trying to get good home care that's not homophobic, or a nursing home that understands my life as a lesbian, on top of everything else.' 78% of lesbians see care homes as an undesirable option Jane isn't the only lesbian who hadn't given much thought to her future dwelling place. In a study published by Nottingham Trent University in 2003, only 30% of lesbians aged over 50 had made plans for future living arrangements - and, hazarding a guess, figures for younger lesbians would probably prove even lower. And yet many gay women are worried, according to the same survey, that our sexual identities and relationships wouldn't be respected if we had to go into special housing; that people who run such schemes are unable to cater to our specific needs because they operate from heterosexual assumptions. If a care manager presumes their clients are straight, or doesn't understand their needs as lesbians, the implications are disturbing - from the loneliness and invalidation of being invisible, to the indignity and frustration of being given no private time with visiting partners. Of the lesbians who responded in the survey, 78% see care or residential homes as an undesirable option. It seems that many of us envisage the nightmare scenario of ending our days in a pokey, depressing old age home, surrounded by strangers, all sitting around watching Corrie and waiting to die - in a place where we couldn't openly flick through our copy of DIVA, watch our favourite lesbian film, or be affectionate with our partner for fear of recriminations from other residents or staff. Is there foundation for these concerns? Lindsay River of Polari - an organisation that lobbies for better services for older lesbians - paints a larger picture. She points out that only 5% of elderly Britons, gay or straight, end up in a residential home, and current Government policy tries to support people in staying in their own homes as they age. It's difficult to assess how effectively the housing sector is catering for older lesbians' needs. Much evidence is anecdotal; and the research that exists tends to have small sample bases - and it's very difficult to find older lesbians to interview, because many of the current generation have lived closeted lives for years and remain invisible within the housing and care sectors. 'Some older lesbians have reported being happy in sheltered housing,' says River. 'Others have said this is because they aren't out to neighbours, and wouldn't like to be, for reasons of safety. Some lesbians are happy with the care support they have when they stay in their own homes, but some have trouble in finding people to provide that service who aren't homophobic. 'We have anecdotal information about lesbians being unhappy in care homes - but then, many people are. There was documentation of very bad (homophobic) practice in a local authority care home 17 years ago,' says River. This case involved two women in a romantic friendship who were harassed by staff, denied the right to share a room, and kept apart at every opportunity, even when one of them was dying. The local authority had no equal opportunities policies, or any procedures to report anything but physical abuse. 'We don't know how much this has changed. The trouble is that there are some gay-friendly homes, but it's not necessarily easy to find them. We need more information about which accommodation is likely to be more gay-friendly.' Sue Davis is a lesbian who works as training and development manager for Accord Housing, a housing association in West Bromwich. She's worked in the sector since 1978, and she maintains that care homes are 'a million times better than they were then - on all levels. They're less institutionalised, the care is of far better quality, and people are treated with far more dignity and respect, in general' - so your chances of getting gay-sensitive treatment at the hands of modern-day care managers are much better. However, surveys show that some care managers, no matter how good their intentions may be, just don't understand the needs of lesbians. Says River: 'There's a lack of understanding among providers of services for older people on the issues of sexuality and the lifestyles of lesbians. This partly reflects the rejection of sexuality in older people generally.' This claim is echoed by Sally Knocker, a freelance dementia care trainer and writer, who has penned a publication called The Whole of Me for Age Concern England. 'When I was researching care homes and extra-care housing, I was struck by how few services seemed to think that meeting the needs of older lesbians, gay men and bisexuals was an issue of any importance. Somehow lesbian and gay people just cease to exist in these environments - the common view is "We don't have any gay people living here".' But as Knocker points out, even conservative estimates would suggest that one in 15 service users is likely to be lesbian, gay or bisexual. 'It's alarming how they seem to disappear once they enter into a care setting.' There is, claims River, also a lack of awareness of the potential of older lesbians and gay men as a market. Google gay retirement homes in the US, and you'll find a plethora of rainbow-coloured sites offering everything from wimmin's (sic) communities based on Native American Indian mores, to self-contained lesbian villages complete with golf courses and spa treatments. There's money to be made in the ageing pink dollar - but in the UK, it seems, entrepreneurs with an eye on a share of the queer ageing market are thin on the ground. This is surprising, given the inevitable future demands of a rapidly ageing population of lesbian baby-boomers who've lived out and proud lives for a number of years, and aren't prepared to swallow the bitter pill of internalised homophobia and stay quiet about their rights. Private sector aside, even public providers are going to have to shape up. Amendments to the Equality Act, due to come into force by the end of the year, will make it illegal for any providers of goods and services in the UK to discriminate on the basis of sexuality. This'll include anyone who provides any kind of housing services - care homes, sheltered housing or home care. River applauds the legislative change. 'We think it's fantastically important. Discrimination, both direct and indirect, exists in the field at the moment. Services will have to consider whether they're discriminating against LGBT people.' It remains to be seen how fast they'll be off the mark, she reflects. But, as Sue Davis points out, prosecution of care managers for failing to provide for the needs of lesbians will be a possibility. 'Housing associations and local authorities have been told they need to get their act together to make sure the needs of older lesbians and gay men are met,' she reveals. What we need to see now, argues River, is training. 'At present, it's inadequate, patchy. Staff who work at care homes and in sheltered and extra-care housing need far more training than is currently provided on ageism and sexuality, and on sexual orientation.' Sarah Holmes-Smith is director of older people and mental health services at Heritage Care, a not-for-profit care and support organisation. She thinks it's only a matter of time before specialist services are provided by housing and care providers. She reveals that Heritage Care is 'currently in conversation with a housing development company who are interested in partnering us to build an extra care facility in Sussex. It won't be exclusive to LGBT people, but it will be gay-friendly.' This project, she says, will be up and running within the next few years. Accord, says Sue Davis, is considering setting up an LGBT unit within an existing mainstream residential unit. There isn't enough of a gay population within the area, she says, to warrant developing a gay-only scheme. But there would be issues - 'Other service users may well be horrible to out gay people. Older people tend to be a lot less accepting than younger people.' It seems, though, that we don't necessarily want gay-only housing schemes, or those run by gay service providers, as the Nottingham Trent University research shows. In fact, it seems what we want is as infinitely complex and varied as our communities are - and those working to meet older lesbians' housing needs inevitably encounter this. Jane Oulton is well aware of this. She's now 61 and, having had the wake-up call with her father, is in the process of setting up a women's co-housing group called The Lifetime Community Project (as yet no website) based in the north-west. It's open to all, regardless of financial circumstance or sexuality - although most current members are lesbian. The women will pool together their financial resources, buy a site that'll accommodate them all, and jointly pay for health care, gardeners, cleaners, shoppers and so on. It's been a challenging process, Oulton admits. Working out the finer legal and financial details so that the group can create a framework to suit all is only part of the task. Getting a bank prepared to lend money for such an unusual scheme is difficult, and defining the group's parameters can be an arduous mission. Typically, the group's negotiation process is lengthy, bringing to mind early feminist collective decision-making meetings. The bonuses are that the women are able to define their own community, live co-operatively, but have their own space - and they'll have a large degree of autonomy. Oulton laughs, 'It's not for everyone, I'll admit, but for me it's an exciting alternative to being dependent on public provision. My message is this: bricks and mortar are only the means to what we want in older age, which is a sense of belonging to a community and being supported by like-minded people.' Where can you live in old age? Your options at a glance: - Stay in your own home or rented accommodation. Most people do this, and some recruit home help. But some need to move because their current dwellings are inaccessible, isolated, unsafe or difficult to move around in. - Sheltered housing provided by housing associations, local councils or commercial organisations. Depending on your area, there may be some degree of support for the tenants; eg, a resident or visiting warden. - Extra-care housing, provided by housing associations, local councils or commercial organisations. Care is usually available to tenants 24/7. For people with high support needs. - Care or residential home. For people with very high support needs. - Set up a co-housing scheme. Useful websites: www.cohousing.co.uk www.casweb.org/polari www.ageconcern.org.uk www.owch.org.uk http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1915 TV's latest fitness guru worked her way up from rock bottom to rock-solid. JANE CZYZSELSKA gets up-close and personal with The Biggest Loser's Angie Dowds. In The Biggest Loser, we see her barking orders at her team, often reducing them to tears with her tough-love training style and yet somehow she still wins us and her wobbly wards round. One of the standout moments in series one saw her forcing a portly young team member named Tracy to destroy and discard her cigarettes with a vigour that would make Anne Robinson look like Bambi. Having cut Tracy's daily food ration by half and convinced her to swing an eight kilo kettlebell - a free weight that resembles a canon ball with a handle - Angie went on to deny Tracy what she felt was her last basic human right to drag on a fag. There were tears. Oh, how we felt her pain. But we rooted for Angie, TV's newest and hottest lesbian star. 'If I can help someone to tap into their self-belief, that's it. Job done.' TV fitness gurus have come a long way since the onset of Britain's fitness craze in the 1980s. But from TV AM's Thin Lizzie and the BBC's kindly yet somewhat ineffectual Green Goddess Diana Moran to GMTV's Mr Motivator - the impossibly cheery, day-glo Lycra-clad keep-fit man in the 90s - to mean military drill sergeant Harvey Walden in BBC1's Celebrity Fit Club, none have hit the spot quite like Dowds. Naturally enough, among red-blooded lesbians of a certain age she's developed something of cult following thanks to her no-nonsense determination, her ripped torso and her tattoos. Like Walden, Dowds is tough on her team of chubsters, but crucially it's her blend of tough love rather than a blame 'em and shame 'em style that's seen her change lives on and off screen. Since the first series aired last year, Dowds has received hundreds of emails weekly from the worried overweight, thanking her for giving them the inspiration to change their lives. Whereas Walden believed his celebrity contestants were the tip of the iceberg of 'fat, lazy housewives and beer-bellied louts' he fears are taking over Britain, Dowds' approach is markedly different. 'If you've got to lose ten stone, you're going to have to go to hell and back and out the other side to change your lifestyle. As someone who's done that myself, I've got the tools and compassion to help people find that transformative place to really turn their lives around. I truly believe it's possible to make your life anything you want it to be,' she tells me when we meet at a cafe in Islington. If you think that sounds too much like healy-feely American self-help, you'd be wrong. 'Your average doctor says you can lose 2lbs a week safely, but I've proved that's bollocks. It may be controversial, but during the ten weeks of filming the show some of the contestants managed a complete transformation.' She's referring to Lee, the Aerospace quality inspector who at the start of the show had trouble taking his shoes off. 'By the end of it, he was superfit and training like an athlete,' Angie says like a proud mum. 'He lost six stone in ten weeks.' Then there was 27-year-old Jody Prenger from Blackpool, the larger-than-life singer and funny girl. 'In the middle of a training session, she broke down and told me that she felt genuinely happy for the first time in her life,' Angie recalls. 'To hear that was amazing. If I can help someone to tap into their self-belief, that's it. Job done.' The first time I met Angie she bounced up the stairwell to greet me at her gym in North London, looking a million dollars. It was only 7.30am but she'd been up since four, as she is most days, radiating a vibrancy that I hoped would rub off on me during our kettlebell training session. In fact, it cost The Biggest Loser star - she was recently peer-voted Personal Trainer of the Year - a great deal more than a million to get where she is today. 'Getting industry recognition felt fantastic,' she says reflecting on her recent achievement. 'Ten years ago, I said to myself; "I want to be the best at whatever it is I end up doing". I've always had that inside me, even as a fuck-up!' This is the first comment that hints at Angie's life prior to her success. But typically she's not afraid to reveal her darker side. Born in Canada in the late 1960s - her parents emigrated from Liverpool - young Angie, aged four, returned to the UK after her mum and dad split up. When her bohemian mother remarried and moved to Wales, she found herself surrounded by drink, drugs and violence. From the age of five, she worked on a farm near where she lived with her mother, delivering milk to neighbours while her mum got sucked into the local hippie drug scene. By 13 she too had discovered drink and drugs; at 15, she decided to leave her dysfunctional home life behind and slept on friends' floors for three years, getting a media job on a Youth Training Scheme before heading for London. She won't be drawn into specifics. 'I don't want to point the finger at anyone - that was what I used to do, before I got clean,' she confirms. 'I was a victim and I had every reason in the world to be, but I knew when I hit rock bottom five years ago that that way of looking at things didn't work any more. Its funny, Jane,' she says, holding me in her gaze as she does throughout our conversation. 'Until I got clean I only had two ambitions: getting absolutely wasted and working like a bastard.' Like a cat thrown from a great height, she landed on her feet when she arrived in London, aged 18, getting a job as a video line tester on film director Steven Spielberg's multi-million dollar movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Five years later, she'd worked her way up to the position of director's assistant. 'It was crazy; my survival instinct was strongly bound up with a work ethic. It was my only place for sanity.' The turning point came at 33, when she realised that nobody but herself could give her the life she wanted. 'I'd spent most of my life feeling sorry for myself, and I knew that if I wanted to make the most of my life I needed to take responsibility.' If you ask her about her USP, and her record of success with clients on-screen and off, she'll tell you that having forged her way to relative happiness from the nadir of her addiction, she has what it takes to help people achieve their deep-seated goals. 'Overeating, for example, is just another way of dealing with pain. It's whatever is your drug of choice - it could be fags, booze, sex even, but I know there's a way through it and I know the maths of it. So, to start with I do their believing for them and carry them through the scary bit until they find that self-belief for themselves. That's why I like this kind of reality TV over something like Big Brother. It inspires people and changes lives.' Angie's been with her actress partner Corrie and her two children for three years. They recently got engaged. 'I got her a bigger diamond than me - how romantic am I?' she admits with an affectionate grin. 'I'm quite old-fashioned, in a way. I like that role of the provider; I'm good at it. It's scary at times but it feels really good to take care of someone very well.' Corrie left the father of her kids to be with Angie a few months after she came to Angie for fitness training. 'I've supported her from the moment we got together. I knew I'd do whatever it took for me to raise my game. I was only two years sober, and I'd only just learned how to take care of myself. It was terrifying, but it made me who I am today and helped me to develop a stronger sense of myself.' She's never allowed her sexuality to be an issue. 'I've always been upfront about it and I'd never want to hide it. Mind you, once people have seen my muscles and tattoos they make assumptions. When you worry about what people may think about any aspect of your personality, its because you're worried about it.' Her recent on-screen success has harvested new television commitments: she's currently in discussion with producers about her own show, and she has a growing waiting list of clients who want to the benefit of Dowds' fitness and life-coaching skills. She's been asked by health club chain Fitness First to mentor their personal trainers nationwide, and - get this, footy fans - she's been appointed as strength conditioning coach for pro non-league side Fisher Athletic, managed by former Spurs player Justin Edinburgh. 'I love footy, and being a coach in such a male-dominated world is another ambition fulfilled. Getting guys to take you seriously and making their training with me translate on the pitch is a real challenge.' She shifts her glance to her feet as if she needs a couple of seconds to take it all in. 'We're undefeated so far.' Letting out a sigh, she blows her fringe from her eyes. 'Never give up. I try to live by that motto. I very nearly did once. I really hope I never do again.' Somehow I think she'll be ok. www.angiedowds.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1838 LA has a spiritual life, author AM Homes tells ERICA ROBERTS - and it's to be found in her new novel, rather than in The L Word. 'You're just making pretty girls talk,' says 44-year-old bisexual writer AM Homes, laughing away her achievements as The L Word writer (Series 2) and producer (Series 3). And yet ratings doubled during her stints on the Sapphic tele-saga; and, in spite of the fact that it was a steep learning curve for the New York-based multi-award winning novelist, she loved every L Word minute. 'I had a great time doing it. It was such fun to work in television; I'd never done it before. I was so nervous before I started, because I hadn't had a job since I was twenty-something years old, and also because I wasn't at all familiar with writing for that medium.' My sense of self goes so far beyond any single word. Label schmabel! Indeed, collaborating with a team that included such illustrious names as Lisa Cholodenko (High Art, Laurel Canyon), Guinevere Turner and Rose Troche (both of Go Fish fame) proved to be a novel experience for the usually solitary writer. 'It's like writing by committee, but what I was doing was generating a lot of character stuff and storylines for them. You sit around, talking about what might happen to various characters. When you write a novel, you sit by yourself for four years. When I worked on The L Word, I sat in a room twelve hours a day for three weeks, making up stuff out loud.' It's not the first time that Rose Troche has teamed up with AM Homes - full name Amy Michael Homes ('it's not a secret, I'm not hiding anything - it's just that I've been called AM since I was a kid and it's stuck' she chuckles). In 2001, Troche directed a filmic adaptation of AM Homes' collection of short stories, The Safety of Objects - one of the many books that has generated controversy across the media for Homes. This controversy is unsurprising - Homes' literary subject matter has ranged from murderous pedophiles, to despairing suburban couples on crack cocaine, to young men who have uncontrollable sexual desires for their sisters' Barbie dolls. In 1997, The UK National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children called her novel The End of Alice 'debasing and repugnant', and urged British bookshops not to stock it; and WH Smith took their advice. Her latest novel, This Book Will Save Your Life, tackles less edgy subject matter. It's a funny, tender, and uplifting story of Richard Novak, a wealthy but socially isolated, middle-aged L.A. financial trader whose life is thrown into turmoil when he awakes one day racked by a savage, full-body pain that he can neither treat nor explain. The psychosomatic illness triggers a journey of self-discovery and altruistic heroism that Novak practises on a vast array of freakish characters who come into his life. Saving lives, he learns about how to be a better person; and it's all set against the backdrop of natural catastrophes - a tidal wave, seismic activity, a sabre-toothed tiger roaming the hills of L.A, and a pack of feral Chihuahuas that threaten la-la land boulevard shoppers. The novel's tone has perplexed critics - is Homes earnest about the navel-gazing self-help culture in LA, or is her tongue planted firmly in her spiritual cheek? 'Well, it's both really. On the one hand, I do explore the absurd and satirical aspects of it; on the other, I'm being entirely earnest. One approach doesn't have to exclude the other. You can poke fun at something, and talk about its absurdity, but that doesn't mean you're not compassionate.' She admits to having been surprised by the cynicism of the literary press; and has found it harder to write an uplifting story, than to 'poke fun at things. The reading culture can't cope if you don't complain; if you want to improve.' It's hard to escape the sense that Homes is frustrated by the limitations imposed on her by a press that needs to package her, contain her, explain her away. She's guarded when talking about her private life - 'I get asked about it more than I do about my work'. She claims that critics often presume that her writing must in some ways be autobiographical - a disturbing assumption, given the fact that her stories have been labelled by many literary critics as 'perverted'. Answering a question about her sexual identity, she says, 'I am bisexual, but I wouldn't necessarily define myself that way. My sense of self goes so far beyond any single word. Label, schmabel! It doesn't begin to describe who I am. I'm a writer, a parent of a three-year-old child. Who I happen to be sleeping with is nobody's business.' * This Book Will Save Your Life, by AM Homes, Granta Books, £14.99 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1837 It's billed by its creators as a drama about the lives of a circle of lesbians and bisexual women, but, asks LOUISE CAROLIN, does The L Word sell bi women short? There's a moment in the third series of The L Word when Alice turns to her lesbian friend and former lover, Dana, and says, "You're right. Bisexuality is gross". The jibe earned L Word writers a pasting from one outraged bisexual viewer on l-word.com, the show's principal fan site. 'I have watched the show from day one (...),' fumed Gigi88. 'I subscribe to SHO specifically for The L Word. I don't appreciate being called gross by a show that claims to support me. And seriously, I have to assume I am not the only bisexual woman who watches the show and feels this way.' In context, Alice's statement is a wry joke, not just against the mutual friend who has just introduced her new male partner, but against her own stated inclinations. Alice's character, the only self-identified bisexual in the series, has a record of deflecting Dana's intermittent digs about her sexuality with wit and good humour. 'I don't appreciate being called gross by a show that claims to support me!' 'Christ, Alice, when are you going to make up your mind between dick and pussy, and spare us the gory bisexual details?' rails Dana in series one. Alice barely bats an eyelid in response: 'For your information, Dana, I am looking for the same qualities in a man as I look for in a woman,' she responds, without animosity. But in other respects, as The L Word's bisexual standard-bearer, Alice is not doing such a good job. She may talk the talk, but beside a brief and comical relationship with Lisa the 'lesbian-identified man', Alice doesn't follow through. Of course, it's not unusual for bi women to remain in long-term relationships with other women, or to maintain their bi-identity while serially dating mainly women. But in terms of representation within the show, to make their token bi-character one of these women is deeply problematic to bisexual viewers. This does not seem to have occurred to the series' creators. 'Our joke about her character is that she always says she's bisexual, but she really isn't, she just wants to be like, "I'm open to anything", because she's that kind of person,' explained Guinevere Turner in an interview for AfterEllen.com. 'Except for Alice's stint with Lisa, which goes so wrong, she doesn't ever really act on her bisexuality. And Jenny's bisexuality so overshadows hers that any anti-bisexual sentiment goes towards Jenny.' But Turner's comparison of the inactively bisexual Alice with the behaviourally bisexual Jenny (though she does not label herself), who vacillates between male and female lovers throughout most of the first two series, is revealing. Jenny's wavering sexual allegiance is open to interpretation; some may read it as part and parcel of her coming-out process, with the assumption that she is headed towards an eventually secure lesbian identity. Others, however, will see her dithering as evidence of the inherently unreliable and unstable nature of bisexuality. In either case, Alice is one of the show's most appealing characters, while Jenny is widely regarded as irritating. The theme of sexual fluidity recurs throughout the show in every series. Besides Jenny's coming out story and Alice's dalliance with Lisa, we've seen Shane's heart broken by a married woman, heterosexual Kit bewitched by a sexy drag-king and straight-boy Mark develop a crush on the androgyne Shane. Series three ups the ante even further, as Jenny finds the perfect blend of genders in her new lover Moira/Max, who samples some extra-queer sex him/herself, and Tina - well, she might pass Jenny coming the other way. But in spite of all this polysexual action The L Word still lacks a credible bi character and sub-plot that reflects the kind of experiences bi women deal with in their lives. As Gigi88 sadly observes, 'I understand this is a show primarily about lesbians and most women would probably rather have Alice be with a woman then a man. I'm not saying I would rather she be with a guy either. (But) I would have liked to see some of the things that I struggle with as a bisexual woman. Issues such as the confusion that goes along with being attracted to both sexes. Not being taken seriously when I date women and all the girls who wouldn't dream of even giving me a chance (...). Feeling as though I never really fit in either world (straight or gay) and wishing I could just "choose" like people say to do.' Sounds like a storyline to me. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1836 The film financiers told her there was no market for lesbian films, but Pratibha Parmar knew there was an audience hungry for gay-lady gastro-porn, SARAH-JANE discovers When film-maker Pratibha Parmar first dreamed up the idea of filming a lesbian curry romcom, she wasn't prepared for the battles she'd encounter along the way. Inspired by her own experiences, she imagined a sweet, joyful and funny‚ film depicting two girls falling in love over a hot stove. As the recipient of several awards for short films and documentaries exploring sexual and racial identity, she felt confident her lesbian curry romance‚ would have a definite audience. About six years ago, independent film-maker, producer and writer Pratibha Parmar envisaged making a film that celebrated and brought together lesbianism, Indian food and culture. What she wasn't Besides losing her producer and 40% of her funding over-night, it took three to four years sourcing the money to make it. Most film financiers insisted there simply wasn‚t a market for lesbian films anymore whilst the UK Film Council's New Cinema Fund turned down her funding application stating lesbianism has had its sell by date‚ as one of the core reasons. "I really want them to come out of the cinema feeling happy and hungry and inspired." Luckily, giving up is not a phrase in Parmar's vocabulary and as the years stretched on, so did her stubborn and bloody-minded determination to see her story brought to life. Eventually, certain funding organisations decided to take a chance on the project and Parmar was given the green light to start rolling the cameras. Shot on location in Glasgow over six weeks last Autumn, Nina's Heavenly Delights finally hits our cinema screens at the end of September. "It's been worth the wait, though" Parmar reflects. "There have been so many struggles getting this film made, but the rush I felt on the first day of the shoot made it all worthwhile. I just wanted to jump up and down with excitement. In the past, I've directed a lot of very serious documentaries but this film is definitely a more mainstream and upbeat piece of work and I hope the audience appreciate and understand that. . I really want them to come out of the cinema feeling happy, hungry and inspired.' The storyline follows Nina, a young Asian-Scottish woman, who returns to Glasgow for her father's funeral. Daddy, it seems, had entered the Best of The West Curry Competition without breathing a word to those around him. Determined to honour him by pursuing his final dream, Nina sets about creating the perfect dish with her new business partner Lisa. Cue hot, steamy glances over a mortar and pestle as the chilli-crushing ladies melt into a romantic clinch. Nina's mother and brother also contribute to the feel-good factor, revealing a few secrets and healing a few familial rifts, and everyone ends up well-fed and loved-up. 'It sounds simplistic but I really believe cinema has the ability to change people's perceptions about things,' states Parmar. 'I think it's fantastic the film shows a lesbian being accepted and embraced by her family instead of being rejected or ostracised.' Leading ladies Laura Fraser and Shelley Conn are convincing in their on-screen rapport. 'What can I say about them?' muses Parmar. 'They're both stunning, sexy and have fantastic chemistry between them. I was initially worried that they might be shy about their first kiss but they were both totally blasé about it. In fact, Laura even asked me if I wanted them to snog again!' Much of the film lingers lovingly in the kitchen, paying exquisite attention to the colours, textures and heady sensuality of the meal the women prepare. Of course, the connection between food and sex may not be new; but Parmar's film slots neatly into the modern 'gastro-porn' genre: every aspect of food preparation and consumption becomes an act of seduction of the viewer/diner/reader. 'I've always found food very erotic and sensual and I worked really hard to capture that in the film,' she confides. 'It's not just the spices and smells and colours of Indian food that are enticing either; it's the preparation of the ingredients. The chopping of the chillies, the popping of the mustard seeds, the stirring and simmering of the onions over a hot flame and finally, tasting each individual dish.' Food as foreplay - Parmar is a great believer. To tempt a lover, Parmar recommends chilled strawberries dipped in white chocolate, accompanied by the occasional sip of champagne. 'Seduction food should be light and sensual and the combined tastes should guarantee to caress the tongue and delight the taste buds,' she says breathily. 'Having said that, one of my most memorable meals would have to be the curry I cooked with Shaheen, my partner, when we fell in love. It played a gorgeous backdrop to the spicy vibes going on between us.' Parmar is heartened that so many films currently in production extol the art of cooking. She relishes the idea that Nina's Heavenly Delights might do for Indian food what Eat Drink Man Woman did for Chinese; and what Like Water For Chocolate did for Mexican food. 'Food has always played a big part in Indian culture and I really liked the idea of making a film that celebrated that,' explains Parmar. 'Food was a central part of my own upbringing, and I remember really clearly my mother cooking for hours on end before big family gatherings. Now I'm older I like all kinds of food, but it's still Indian food I'm most passionate about.' After six years of slaving over a hot film, you'd think that Parmar might be taking a well-earned break. Not so. The dynamic director already has a couple of new projects on the boil. One is a political thriller about women in Islam; the other is a road movie/coming of age story with a female lead. She's also toying with the idea of following up her Channel 4 documentary on Jodie Foster (Jodie: An Icon) with one on Mrs Brad Pitt. 'I am a fully paid up member of Team Jolie. I'd jump at the chance to do a documentary on Angelina as a lesbian icon. I just need someone to give me the money to make it,' she laughs. 'Failing that, maybe I could put myself up for adoption!' Parmar says her film will be dropped from cinemas after a week if attendances aren't high - so she's appealing for lesbians to flock in droves to their local cinemas during the opening weekend. Go on - show 'em there's a market for dyke flicks. For more info visit: www.vervepics.com www.kalifilms.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1835 Lesbian culture has tended to reject conventional ideas about beauty. But does that mean that we aren't likely to develop eating disorders? MEL STEEL investigates. "You don't tend to get lesbians obsessing about how many calories there are in a Kit Kat, do you ?" I heard this remark yesterday, and it made me laugh out loud. But it also made me think. It's true: even now, the enduring dyke stereotype is frankly not that of a woman in any danger of wasting away. But why should that be? Are we any more or less vulnerable to eating disorders than straight women? Gay men? Is there any link between our sexuality and our relationship with food? What we mean by eating disorders in fact covers a wide range of compulsive behaviours around eating and food. Briefly and broadly, the most common are anorexia nervosa (self-starvation, usually but not always in pursuit of thinness, often with drastic weight loss and, in extreme cases, life-threatening health consequences); bulimia nervosa (overeating followed by self-induced vomiting and sometimes purging with laxatives, but often with no noticeable weight loss); and compulsive or binge eating (overeating without vomiting, often resulting in drastic weight gain and severe health consequences). Often sufferers of all these types experience both anorexia and bulimia in cycles (binge eaters, for example, may have a history of repeated and extreme efforts at dieting). I just wanted to be as small as possible, to make myself disappear. Bridget is 28, and suffered from anorexia and bulimia from age 13 to 19. She also says that she knew she was gay from the age of about seven or eight. When, however, she finally told her mum, at the age of 13, that she fancied a girl, her mum was appalled. "I always had a bad body image," she says, "and I knew I was different. I was very self-conscious at school , and hyper-aware that everything was geared towards heterosexuality. I can't remember the first time I threw up, but from the time I started to I just did it all the time. I just wanted to be as small as possible, to make myself dissapear. I was angry because of my sexual orientation, and frightened of it too. It was like I was trying to hide a part of myself, and hated that part of myself - they were definitely linked." She moved out when she was 19 to live on her own and everything changed. 'I wasn't living with my parents any more; I no longer needed to make everyone else happy. The vomiting just felt disgusting. It made me feel sick! I thought, I don't need to do this any more.' She got help from books, the internet, women's magazines, self-help TV, and through friends who also had eating disorders but were more open about it. But the thing that helped most was coming out to the wider world. 'It makes you feel better about yourself in so many ways,' she says. Bridget is now an environmentally conscious vegetarian, a proud lesbian and feminist and feels in control of her life. Michelle also developed an eating disorder at 13. Now 25, she says she also knew she was a lesbian from an early age, but doesn't associate the two. Her trigger was the death of her father from cancer. She began to restrict her food by throwing away what was easiest: school lunches. It gave her a sense of achievement, she says, that she could throw away half her food and still manage to function and perform. She was also an athlete, and once her eating disorder had begun to develop, this became the perfect cover, as she was a skinny long-distance runner. She avoided sex and her libido was rock bottom, anyway. Unlike Bridget, it was when Michelle got to university and was living on her own for the first time that things spiralled out of control. She was 5' 8" and, at her lowest weight, 5 st. 10. Before she had left school she had been told that she could probably run at international level. Now she could barely walk. Although she had plucked up the courage to contact the LGBT society at college, she never made a meeting, and was forced to drop out of her college course after only ten weeks. Back home she talked to a friend - and finally realised she was starving herself to death. She began eating, which made her freak out at first but gradually, she felt better. She contacted the Eating Disorders Association and found them helpful. Then she applied to a different university in a city with a big gay scene and 'turned the corner' in her life. 'I've been healthy for five years now, and think my experience has actually given me a much healthier attitude to food than some women I know. I enjoy cooking and eating, I enjoy cooking and eating, I'm out about my sexuality, I enjoy sex, and I'm running again - only now I'm sprinting instead of doing distance running, so that there's less emphasis on body weight,' she says. Lucy is now 34, and identifies as a binge eater. She had been anorexic at 16, but at 18, and away from home at university, she became a compulsive over-eater. She would buy healthy food for herself, then steal chocolate and biscuits from her roommates' cupboards, scoffing them in secret. She ballooned from seven stone to 14 in a year, and covered herself up in baggy clothes. She was desperately unhappy. 'Now I realise that I was eating to block the uncomfortable feelings I had about myself,' she says. 'I had no idea who I was. I felt ashamed of being gay, but then I felt ashamed of most things about myself. Food was a comforter and a tormentor, but the comfort was short-lived, as the guilt and self-loathing would soon kick in. I was out of control in every way, mentally, physically, spiritually.' Lucy is also a recovering alcoholic who has been sober for over two years now. She's found help and support from both Alcoholics and Overeaters Anonymous, and her weight has now more or less stabilised. 'I think I have an addictive streak running through me,' she says, 'and now that I've given up drink, drugs and cigarettes, I've realised that in fact it's food that's my primary addiction, the one that's been with me all my life. The sugar in sweet things seems to switch something in my brain. So I'm trying really hard to recognise when I get that food craving that actually it's an opportunity to process my pain and work out what's bugging me. I have a choice.' The Eating Disorders Association, one of the main sources of information and support in the UK, offers a best estimate of around one young woman in 100 suffering from bulimia nervosa, and 'somewhat fewer' (other sources suggest one in 150) suffering from anorexia nervosa. In 1992 the Royal College of Psychiatrists estimated that about 60,000 people might be receiving treatment for anorexia or bulimia at any one time in the UK. However, the EDA believes the number currently receiving treatment to be much closer to 90,000, with many more undiagnosed. There is, they suggest, a combined total of 1.15 million diagnosed and undiagnosed people with an eating disorder in the UK, of whom 90% are women. However, the latest body of comprehensive research on the subject in this country was conducted more than ten years ago, and did not address the issue of any links with sexuality. More recent and relevant research on the links between eating disorders and sexuality comes from the US, but even this is sketchy, controversial, and based mostly on inconclusively small samples. Certainly, an increased risk and prevalence of anorexia among gay men, as compared with straight men, has been identified in a number of academic and medical journals. However, research about lesbians in similar studies is confusing. Some claim that lesbians suffer from anorexia and bulimia in fewer numbers than straight women, but binge eat more. Some claim that we are to some extent 'protected' from cultural pressures to be thin because 'feminist social norms in lesbian communities' (if only) put less importance on weight and appearance in determining attractiveness. Some find no noticeable difference between lesbians and straight women with eating disorders. But one intriguing study suggests that gender and gender identification, not sexuality, that dictates body image. Those who are masculine-identified (straight men, butch gay men or butch lesbians) will have a lower prevalence of eating disorders than those who are more feminine-identified (straight women, queens, or femme lesbians), this study claims. Neither Bridget nor Michelle positively identify as femme, but agree that they're more likely, on the street, to be perceived as straight than as lesbian. For Max, though, now 39, her gender identity as a butch dyke had a strong impact on how her eating disorder developed. Max was sexually abused for years as a child, and sees the onset of her eating disorder at puberty as a deliberate effort to regain control and ownership of her body. She describes it very clearly as 'an eating order, not a disorder. There's nothing whatever disordered about it,' she says. 'It's utterly considered; a way of taking control that manifests itself in lots of different ways, from eating to drug-taking to working out.' Her body image was always problematic: 'I always knew I was a dyke, so it's no coincidence that my problems kicked in at puberty. I wanted to be desexualised, and at the same time as a butch dyke I wanted to be bigger, more boyish, to have a flat stomach and muscles; to be less feminine and feminized, and more in control. No breasts, no hips and no stomach - that was my aim.' But she didn't think of her self-starving as a disorder, to begin with; more as just naughty, a way of rebelling. It was when she first moved to London on her own, living in a tiny bedsit and writing, that it began in earnest. She was eating so little anyway that when she did eat she just felt immediately full and sleepy, and that was no good at all. So she stopped eating and sleeping pretty much altogether. 'What's good about not eating,' she says, 'is the huge endorphin rush you get from it. You get really hyper from it, and also quite meditative. I just stayed up, all the time, and wrote.' She also started going out on the London scene. Cue amphetamines - 'the acceptable face of eating disorders,' according to Max. Drugs - first speed, and later cocaine - enabled her to stay up, go out, not eat, and have the perfect alibi. It perfectly replicated the experience of an eating disorder, without looking like one. She lost an enormous amount of weight - but then so did many of her lesbian friends on the scene. Some were concerned, but she insisted that it was an issue of her own control. 'In fact,' she says, 'I just wanted to disappear, for nothing to get into my body. It was anger at myself, for being alive.' At the same time, she was weightlifting, trying to build herself up into the bigger, taller, butcher boi she also wanted to be, if she wasn't going to die after all. Only she couldn't build up, because she simply didn't have the muscle mass. Although she was aware that she had some kind of eating disorder, she says that she would never have identified as anorexic. 'Anorexia was a girl's disease, and about wanting to look like a girl in a magazine. Which I didn't.' Max got over her own eating disorder with the help of a stable relationship, learning to love cooking, and through discovering the transformative power of other forms of body modification like tattooing and piercing - 'a manifestation of ownership, and a way of saying that you're proud of yourself and of your body,' she says. 'My own and many dykes' perceptions of beauty are very different to those of the mainstream. And I think that's a good thing.' Anecdotally, there is a wealth of information out there on the links between our sexuality and our eating orders and disorders. Research, please! It's about time. Helpful organisations & amp; resources: Eating Disorders Association Extremely informative and helpful, with many online resources, including message forum. www.edauk.com Royal College of Psychiatrists Straightforward, informative downloadable leaflets on eating disorders and related issues, available at: tinyurl.com/hqy3e Overeaters Anonymous National fellowship with support groups across the country, working to the traditions of the Twelve Step Programme. www.oagb.org.uk http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1834 While her contemporaries have played it safe by hiring the hippest songwriters and producers, Pink has followed her heart, preferring to work with mavericks like Linda Perry. But is she as smart and sassy in real life? SARAH-JANE caught up with the outspoken star in the middle of her world tour. Her latest album 'I'm Not Dead', released earlier this year, cemented her reputation as one of the most diverse and individual pop stars around. Musically, the album features everything from anthemic pop songs and power pop ballads to swaggering blues tracks whilst the lyrics examine everything from the personal - drug addiction, peer pressure, loneliness - to the political - poverty, war, collective apathy. Never one to run away from controversy, Pink has always been outspoken about her pet hates and passions too. In an open letter to Black Book magazine last year she chastised Vogue editor Anna Wintour for promoting fur whilst her recent single 'Stupid Girls' blatantly ridiculed certain celebrities and It Girls for acting dumb and selling their bodies as commodities. Sarah-Jane: So - you're on tour. Pink: Yes and I'm having more fun that I've had in my whole life. The crowds have been wild and every night has just been more psychotic than the one before. I can't wait til I get to Europe because my fanbase there is wild. Your UK fans are waiting with baited breath. Put them out of their misery - what can we expect when you play here? I'll be playing songs from all my albums with a few covers and B-sides thrown in. The song I'm enjoying playing the most is probably 'Dear Mr President'. Everywhere we've played the crowd have gone crazy for it. Its not just the fact a lot of Americans feel Bush cheated in the last election, its about bigger issues like his thoughts on gay marriage and his response to the New Orleans tragedy. Put it this way, if I hadn't written 'Dear Mr President' myself, I would definitely do a cover of it. There are rumours on the internet that you've just filmed some scenes for a new horror movie. Yeah, I had a great time. The movie is called Catacombs and its based on the catacombs underneath Left Bank in Paris. I don't know if you're familiar with the story, but there's supposed to be three million bodies down there from the 1930s. They didn't have anywhere to put them after the plague, so instead of letting them pile up in the streets they started throwing them underground. Anyway, the film is a true story about these kids that started hosting illegal parties down there and as you can imagine, all kinds of horrible things start to happen. Its scary as hell, but its more of a psychological thriller than a cheap slasher movie. Is the siren call of Hollywood ringing in your ears? I really enjoyed doing Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle but I'm much more interested in doing dark or arty independent movies than big blockbusters right now. I think Tarantino and Scorsese are both fantastic but my dream director would be Clint Eastwood. He doesn't rush scenes in order get to the action, he takes his time and really develops his characters and scenarios. Million Dollar Baby is just incredible. When you were a child, did you know you wanted to become a singer? Yeah, it's the only thing I ever knew. What were the first records that really blew you away? The first record I broke from playing too much was The Mamas and The Papas. The first record I actually bought though was Mary J Blige's debut album. Since then, I've acquired a taste for everything from rock and pop to funk and hip hop. Which bands or artists really rock your boat? There are lots of musicians I admire and respect but none I feel I have any parallels with, I guess because there are few musicians as confused as me musically! A lot of people find their sound and stick to it, but I've never liked the idea of repeating myself. The fact I'm hard to categorise is one of my biggest assets. Linda Perry co-wrote and produced several tracks on Missundaztood. What was she like to work with? It was like thunder and lightning coming together in a storm. I'd heard stories about what she was like to work with, but didn't know what a force she was until we were in the studio together. She was everything I thought she'd be: incredibly stubborn and incredibly talented. We've heard she has a fetish for lap-dancing and pole-dancing clubs. Where did you hear that? I thought only her friends and colleagues knew that. Did she ever take me to any? Yeah, we took each other a couple of times. You worked with folk duo The Indigo Girls on the new album. I've been a fan of their music forever. I used to sing a cover of Closer To Fine at the talent shows I entered. Anyway, I'd been in the studio for a few days trying to record Dear Mr President, when I realised there was still something missing. It occurred to me I should get Amy and Emily to sing on it. I'd never spoken to them before, but I knew they wouldn't be afraid to tackle the subject matter because of who they are and what they stand for. They have a reputation for being lovely to work with. They were awesome. We talked about music and politics a bit, then I flew to Atlanta a few days later. I was a little bit nervous about meeting them, but I've been fortunate that everyone I've asked to collaborate with me so far has said yes. I can be very convincing if I want something! We're sure you can. Any other musicians or producers you'd love to hook up with? I never think about things like that until it's time to record a new album. For some reason, I'm not very good at making plans. Luckily, whenever I'm starting work on a new record the universe opens up and things fall into my lap. I don't write songs unless I'm in the studio, but I write a lot of poetry and make a lot of lists. Do some of the lists become poems? Yeah, they do. You and Brody Dalle from The Distillers are probably the most tattooed ladies in rock. When did your addiction to the needle and ink begin? I can't remember a time I wasn't adorning my body in some way or another. I have about 20 tattoos now, and each one marks a different period in my life. I'm Not Dead is your most personal and reflective album to date. What inspired the title track? Just life and the whole aspect of growing, changing and developing different relationships. Listening to the lyrics, I think it's my most subtle song. I'm usually very blunt, but that track in particular is very thoughtful and poetic. On tracks like Nobody Knows and Conversations With My 13-Year-Old Self, it sounds like you've found inner peace. Y'know, there's no such thing as complete inner peace. You keep searching and when you stop, you die. Having said that, I'm more at peace with myself than I was ten or 15 years ago. Back then, I had no idea about mortality or responsibility. I just wanted to take drugs and go dancing every night. How have you managed to avoid becoming yet another casualty of the celebrity and fame game? I have a bulldog sleeping, snorting and farting at my feet and he keeps me incredibly grounded. I don't live the whole celebrity lifestyle, either. When I'm not touring or recording, I read a lot of books and chill out on the beach. It doesn't sound very exciting, but spending large amounts of time sitting and staring at the ocean really helps me unwind. You have a massive female fan base - unsurprising, given that you're one of the rare few who stick to their image as a kick-ass, feisty woman. Did you spend your nascent years surrounded by strong women? No, not by any. I looked up to Madonna and Janis Joplin, but the only strong women around me were probably my guidance counsellors. Some of them were pretty amazing; at one point, I spent more time with them than in class. They really listened to me and tried to give me confidence about myself and life. Any other strength I have stems from being my father's daughter. He's a tough, sarcastic dude who takes no shit from anyone. Any other role models? No. I was kind of a loner. The one person I really admired was the 85-year-old woman who lived across the street from me and rescued animals. I thought she was great and wanted to be like her when I grew up. Is that when you became interested in animal rights? More or less. I've always been around animals and always hated the idea of them suffering. I'm not naive enough to think I can bring the cosmetic industry or the fur trade to a halt, but by speaking out about some of their practices I can reach a large audience. Some of those people might make a conscious decision to not advocate or promote the companies involved. You've just launched a global petition campaign called Kick The (KFC) Bucket. What can you tell us about it? It's a campaign about KFC's practices. The way they treat their chickens is completely inhumane, and people need to be aware what it is they're supporting when they eat there. Basically, it's all about educating people so they can make their own choices about who and what they want to support. Why do you think you have such a strong gay and lesbian following? I've been asked this a couple of times recently. Honestly? I don't know. Maybe because I'm a smart ass and don't really care for stereotypes and prejudices, or maybe people can tell I'm open-minded and see everyone as individuals. All I know is, I've always identified with people who struggle and they've always seemed to identify with me. We know you married your long-term beau, Carey Hart, last year, but have you had sexual relationships with women in the past? I don't like to talk about my private life too much, but I have, yeah. My first girlfriend actually really fucked my head up - she left me for my brother. I was only 14 at the time, but I still find it pretty gross. I could have understood her running off with a friend or classmate, but to go from kissing me to kissing my brother? Ugh. How old were you when you first realised you were attracted to women? The first time I really noticed another girl, I was 12 and used to go dancing at my local gay club. It wasn't the best club I've ever been to, but the atmosphere was fantastic. I remember just dancing for hours and feeling really free. What kind of ladies do you go for? I don't have a specific type when it comes to men or women. They can be blonde, brunette, butch or femme. The main thing is whether or not they have a great personality and a sick sense of humour. Do you identify yourself as bisexual or queer? I don't like labels; they're too easy. I'm just about good energy and good feelings. A lot of people feel the need to split the world into heterosexuals and homosexuals, but I really believe we're all trisexual. The most interesting people I know are ones who refuse to categorise or define themselves by their desires. Finally, any tips for our readers about becoming a better lover? Pay attention and quit trying to get to the finish line so fast. It's all about the journey, not the destination. That sounds clichéd - but it's a cliché for a reason! I'm Not Dead is out now on RCA. Pink plays Wembley Arena on Oct 4th. For more live dates, visit www.pinkspage.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1758 The recent people's uprising in Nepal promises to bring change to the lives of all Nepalese citizens, and that includes the country's lesbians, SOPHIA COLLINS discovers It's a strange time to be a tourist, accidentally holidaying in someone else's revolution. Westerners are, relatively speaking, insulated from the social upheaval that has come from the recent April Revolution. During curfews I could walk down the streets - at least in the tourist areas - without being stopped by the police or army. Whereas ordinary Nepalis in other areas were ordered back into their houses at gunpoint. I would sit in a restaurant garden, sipping tea brought by a uniformed waiter, while soft music played in the background, reading English-language newspapers telling me about severe food shortages and people dying in demonstrations. As I found out more about Nepal I started to realise how much I was insulated in many other ways. 60% of Nepalese women are married by the time they are 18. Usually an arranged marriage to an older man. Under-age marriage is common. This is a strongly family-orientated culture, and women are much more subject to the dictates of their family than men are. Imagine how difficult it is to try to live without a man in this culture. Although many women work - especially backbreaking agricultural work in rural areas - few have careers or independent finances or own property. Only 25% of adult women in Nepal can read and write - compared to 55% for men. This is a strongly patriarchal culture where men rule the home, hold the purse-strings and make the decisions. There is a Nepali saying, 'the hen ought not to crow', meaning that the rooster should crow and draw attention to itself but the hen shouldn't. I'm sure the metaphor is obvious. But the Jana Andolan (people's movement) has created the opportunity for change. People are cautiously hopeful that things will get better. Many young people talk about creating a modern country, without corruption, with rights for minorities and women. It seems that declaring Nepal a secular state is a step in the right direction, but you can't change the culture of a country overnight. "If the policemen find out that a woman is a lesbian, they will rape her and the women have no recourse, who can they go to?" I met Sunil Pant, an incredible man who has almost single-handedly put gay-rights on the political map in Nepal. He's the founder of the Blue Diamond Society, Nepal's first (and only) sexual minorities rights organisation. As Sunil told me, 'The leaders, they are very masculine, high-caste, Brahmin, hierarchical. They think they know best. They don't think about the problems of women or sexual minorities, they don't think they are important.' The women from the Blue Diamond's newly formed lesbian (mitini) group agree, Meera Bagracharya says, "The leaders they are very old, narrow-minded, traditional men." The new Prime Minister, GP Koirala, is 85. Almost 2/3 of Nepal's 27 million people are under 35. Laxmi Ghalan interrupts her girlfriend, "I wish GP would get a handsome young boyfriend." The women all laugh, but of course they know that an openly gay politician is a pipedream here. Gay women here face enormous problems. Most are forced into marriage. They will be sacked and victimized if their sexuality becomes known. I asked the women if there are many lesbians in Nepal. Many, they said, especially in the police force, army and in sports clubs. But women aren't able to be open about their sexuality. Lesbians' rights are of course tied up not just with women's rights but with general human rights. Since the King seized absolute power in February 2005, those have been atrocious here. Amnesty described it in February as having one of the worst human rights situations in the world. For a time Nepal had the highest rate of reported 'disappearances' in the world. Political or arbitrary arrests (including beatings, torture and rape) were common. Army and police are being brought under the control of parliament now and accountability increased, but there's a long way to go. "This is a grey time," say Sunil, "it's an unclear time, we don't know what will happen. But it's also a hopeful time, because lots of things are changing." He says the challenge is to make their voices heard now and influence the democratic process, so that, for example, there is gay representation in the 'Constituent Assembly' - the body which will be elected to draw up a new constitution and craft the new Nepal out of the ashes of the old one. And that the new constitution guarantees freedom from discrimination on the basis on sexuality, as well as caste, religion, ethnicity, etc. As soon as the Jana Andolan ended he started circulating to civil rights groups and the political parties here copies of the South African constitution, as a gentle suggestion. It was even quoted by Ian Martin, the UN Human Rights Commissioner for Nepal in a speech for Anti-Homophobia day on the 18th May, "The state may not unfairly discriminate directly or indirectly against anyone on one or more grounds, including race, gender, sex, pregnancy, marital status, ethnic or social origin, colour, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion, conscience, belief, culture, language and birth." It's important that this is such inclusive wording, but also that this is from South Africa's constitution, and not America or the UK's, as if everyone in the world should try to be just like the west. Nepal is a proud country, with a proud history. They've never been colonised, unlike their mighty neighbour to the South. Several Nepalis told me this with quiet pride during the course of political conversations. But in recent years their leaders haven't given them a picture of themselves to be proud of. The people here are resourceful, cheerful, brave and strong. Let's hope they can recover that sense of pride in themselves. And that this sense includes pluralism and tolerance. Sunil and the Blue Diamond Society have worked very hard with other human rights groups to get them to recognise that sexuality rights are human rights, and they've made progress. But lesbian's rights are far behind those of the men (and the men's are still pretty bad). Partly this is because there is aid funding for HIV/AIDS work, but the women are operating on a shoestring. Partly it's cultural - the women's rights organisations are often marginalized by 'mainstream' human rights workers, and the women's groups marginalize the Mitini group in turn. "We have a "Hi and Bye" relationship with them, they say hello, but that's as far as it goes. They laugh at us and backbite about us." Meera told me. Lesbian rights here aren't 30 years behind the UK, they are 100 years behind. Way before 'The Well of Loneliness' and the open sexual shenanigans of the Bloomsbury Group. There are no dyke bars or social clubs here. No positive representations in popular culture. No well-known, out women. Meera says there are many lesbian doctors, lawyers and business-women, but they are too afraid for their careers to come out or openly participate in the Mitini group. I ask them what they would like to do, if their resources were infinite. They'd like to set up businesses to employ sacked lesbians, provide literacy classes and raise awareness so women realise they aren't freaks and others start to see lesbianism as natural. It's all a long way off. They ask about lesbian life in Britain and are delighted when I tell them about civil partnerships. They'd like lesbians from other countries to visit them, tell them about lesbian life in other places, pass on skills, maybe volunteer with them for a while. If you're ever visiting this fascinating country, don't just rush through Kathmandu on your way to go trekking. Yes, they are the most amazing mountains in the world, and I think perhaps it's the most beautiful and diverse country in the world, with lush jungles, glacial lakes and everything in between. But spare a thought for the women struggling with things you take for granted, visit the women from Blue Diamond and remember to pack a lesbian book, magazine, or poster in you suitcase. For more information about the work of The Blue Diamond Society, visit www.bds.org.np, write to bluediamondmitini@yahoo.com, or call 0097 1 444 3350/ 444 5147 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1757 She turned down appearing at woodstock (on the advice of her ex-manager), once rowed with a dragged-up J Edgar Hoover, and caused national controversy with her first-ever single. The formidable, legendary Janis Ian grants NICOLA TAN an audience It's an unusual scenario. I'm on a sofa with Janis Ian in someone's house in Sussex. We are in front of about twenty die-hard Ian fans, and it's not long before she will play a two-hour solo set in the living room. I am nervous - she's never let a journalist into one of her Living Room Concerts until now - and when I realise the interview will have an audience, the nerves get slightly worse. Despite the fact she looks four-foot-nothing, I get the immediate impression that Janis Ian won't take any shit. It's not a feeling of aggression - it's just a calm and unmistakable message that she's in charge. I don't suppose you can spend four decades in the music industry without being tough - but Janis Ian seems tougher than most. For those unfamiliar with her life or music, here are a few facts. She released her first single, Society's Child, in 1966 when she was just fifteen. Telling a story of interracial love, it would prove to be one of the most controversial singles America ever had to deal with - DJs were sacked, and a radio station was burned to the ground for playing it. In 1975 'At Seventeen', the song for which she's most known, sold well over a million copies. She's had nine Grammy nominations and won two. Her songs have been recorded by a flock of artists including Amy Grant, Chet Atkins, Sean 'Diddy' Combs, Nina Simone, Joan Baez, Roberta Flack and Dusty Springfield. Her private life has been no quieter - she suffered a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide in the sixties, married a violent man who she subsequently divorced in the seventies, declared bankruptcy after a former manager failed to pay her taxes in the eighties, and married her partner since 1989, Patricia Snyder, in Canada in 2003. She's now touring after the release of her new album, 'Folk is the New Black', in February this year. LRCs aren't cheap at £7500 per show, but all the money goes to Ian's Pearl Foundation, named after her mother, which funds women returning to education later in life. The intimacy of these gigs is something Ian enjoys. "I don't have to put on my make up or my lenses, I don't have to worry about the lights and the sound, and I know that I'm among friends - whereas with a regular audience one never knows." To me it's just available bodies - it's who you fall in love with, not what gender they are." Ian has had reason to fear her audiences in the past, especially after the release of Society's Child. "I had bomb threats, death threats, people would send razor blades through the mail taped to the edge of the envelope. They would spit at me in the street and rent whole rows so they could sit there and shout 'nigger lover' through the entire show." So how did she deal with the furore that Society's Child created? "The way any adolescent would respond - I ignored it. It's a weird thing. You get used to never going anywhere without two people with you, or standing anywhere where someone can come up behind you. But one of the things I learned very young was the power of a song. I realised that people weren't just listening, but really listening to what I was saying." Being a female solo artist in a male arena was hard. "I came up at a time when women were considered not to be particularly intelligent. I've calmed down a bit now I'm older but there was a period there for about ten years when I got really tired of this myth that girls can't play guitar, so I started stepping to the front of the stage, taking big hero guitar solos, using all the effects and all that. But I sort of proved my point now and the tour is much more song based. I wear blue jeans on stage, which I've never done in my life. Nice boots - but blue jeans." I'm starting, by this point, to feel that Janis Ian is a rock star stuck in a folk singer's body. You might not catch her chucking TVs out of hotel room windows, but she has stuck two fingers up to the industry and taken herself 'off the grid', recording and putting out her own records to give herself more control. As she's said before, "It never occurred to me there would be any benefit at all in letting someone else dictate what I was going to do." Her sexuality has courted more than its fair share of column inches. She recognised at nine she was gay, ("I realised the crush I had on my teacher was more than a passing phase..."), but what about her teenage years? "I didn't really date. I fell in love with a boy, Peter Cunningham, and we lived together. And then Following this she was outed in 1976 in an aggressive cover story by the Village Voice, ("If memory serves, I got into bed and pulled up the covers for a day..."). She subsequently married, and divorced, the Portuguese film-maker Tino Sargo, ("I fell seriously in love. I'd still be with him if he hadn't been such a psychotic lunatic...") before meeting her wife, and partner of seventeen years, Patricia Snyder when she moved to Nashville. She is using the beautiful song of clichés written for Pat, Joy, from Folk is the New Black, to finish all her shows right now. Ian recently had a serious health scare, and she didn't respond how she'd expected. "I always thought, in my arrogance, that, should I discover I had a finite amount of time, I would write the song of songs, or do the great album - something to make my mark. But I found all I wanted to do was sit on the porch with Pat." Luckily Ian underwent surgery and her health is now fine - but that feeling has stayed with her - and led to the writing of Joy. "I was sitting out on the same porch, just before we did this album, thinking how lucky I was. But it's so easy to take it all for granted because, no matter how hard you try to hold on to that sense, it goes. And you find yourself whining, 'Where's my butter?' or 'Why haven't I got skimmed milk?' You know, meaningless stuff. I thought, 'Man, I got a house, I got food on the table, heat in the winter and somebody who loves me. What else can I demand?' And then I walked back in the house and wrote Joy." You can't help but appreciate the craft of performance when you watch Janis Ian - it's rare to see such a sensitive and moving show. She plays the audience like a violin and you find yourself holding your breath and coming up in goose-bumps but unsure why. Ian is the real thing, the rock-and-roll folk singer, and, my first impression was right: she doesn't take any shit. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1752 On screen they're hot, sassy and uninhibited. But what are they like in the flesh? JOANNA WALTERS catches up with the cast of The L Word on-set in Vancouver. Even in silhouette she is unmistakable. With her lithe swagger and scarecrow hair, Katherine Moennig, alias bad-grrrl Shane, walks from the sunshine into the dimly-lit interior of 'The Planet' between takes and declares herself amazed but "deeply, deeply flattered" that she is a lesbian icon. The famous hang-out cafe is much smaller on set than it looks on screen, crammed into the warehouse studio in Vancouver, right next to Bette and Tina's pretend house - complete with swimming pool where a wide-eyed Jenny saw them having sex at the beginning of Season 1 of The L Word.The cast are now in Vancouver filming Season 4, just as Season 3 is underway on British screens. It's much cheaper to film in Canada, with minimal work done in Los Angeles, where the drama is actually set. In one episode Shane and Carmen come together, and not quietly Surrounded by spotlights, camera dollies and moveable plants, Moennig, 29, known to most as Kate, settles down with Diva to tackle the big question of whether the molten-hot sex Shane has in Season 3 topples Gina Gershon's Corky in Bound as the best lesbian sex, non-porn, ever portrayed on any screen. To titillate, let's just say that in one episode Shane and Carmen come together, and not quietly. And in another, Shane arrives at someone's house, packing, and unmistakably gets her silicone cock out and gives this woman the sex of the century. In many people's view in the US, where Season 3 has already finished, that's it - Gershon - Pedestal -Toppled. Moennig appears surprised. Do you think so? Really? Well, it's me, so it would be too narcissistic of me to agree. It hadn't been done before quite like that, so I thought that was a great idea," she says, with devastating understatement. Her hair has been plastered at peculiar angles for her forthcoming takes, and she is wearing tight jeans, a red top and plaid shirt and her own, real tattoos, including a cross on her wrist. She has some sleep-deprivation shadows under the eyes but her cheeky smile, the slight shhhh sound with which she pronounces any word beginning with 's' and her firm hand shake scream Stud. "The stuff with Carmen, well, we just played about. Sarah (Shahi, who plays Carmen) and I got on so well we were able to trust it," she says. The humorous and passionate dynamic Shane establishes as she accepts being Carmen's girlfriend in Season 3 is delightful. Ilene Chaiken, creator and executive producer of The L Word is less coy than her actor as she discusses the magnetism of Moennig. "Kate is very, very sexy and she does great love scenes. Everyone has a different eroticism meter. She's hot. Kate is very bold and she cares a lot about making it real. It was not so much, let's make the dildo the scene, but it was really important and sexy - and the woman she is having sex with, well you know she has never been fucked like THAT before," says Chaiken, with a mischievous grin. The L Word has done more than most to show that lesbians don't just cuddle and giggle in bed, or have one kind of sex, or not-real sex. Like the whole series itself, Shane blossoms in Season 3. From being the mysterious, commitment-phobic girl-about-town, we now see her learning (sometimes the hard way) about monogamy, and as a discrete and loyal rock for her friends. "It would have become stagnant for Shane to just do the same thing over and over. She had to go somewhere as a character," Moennig continues. And what about Moennig going somewhere else as an actor? Is she afraid that as The L Word continues she'll become typecast as 'a lesbian actress'? "The show has been on for four years now. Whatever damage is going to be done, it's been done. It's something that I wonder about, but I can't worry about it any more. I really enjoy my job, there is a lot of creative freedom and the camaraderie...this show will be hard to top," she says. Moennig recently acted in an off-Broadway play in New York, where she played a character based on Lynndie England, the US soldier made notorious by the abuse at Abu Ghraib prison, which got lukewarm reviews. Also coping with a twist in her character in Season 3, and also looking ahead to the future, is Leisha Hailey, who plays, perhaps, the thinking-dyke's dyke, Alice. Hailey floats into 'The Planet' still in make-up, curls her petite form sideways on a small chair and grins when Diva wishes her a happy 35th birthday and points out that Alice is many viewers' favourite character. "Without Alice all the friendships would fall away. I feel like I am the glue in this family of lesbians and I bring all these dykes from different places together," she said. She wishes she was as witty as Alice. She relates to the heartbreak Alice suffers, but did not agree with the idea to turn Alice into an obsessive stalker-type on a pill-bender. "I had no input into that," she says. Then Alice suffers the hardest of the group in a bereavement, although Hailey assures us that sassy Alice gets back on track in Season 4. Lesbians first knew Hailey from her band The Murmurs and her relationship with kd lang in the Nineties, when they made a dymanic 'out' couple on the red carpet. Hailey is just now thinking of getting back into composing and performing."I was waiting to miss the music and now I do," she said. And does she want to continue with The L Word? "I hope to God I'm in it if there is a Season 5. I do not want to leave a show while it's running," she says, then flicks back her blond hair and trots off to 'Bette's house'for the next take. In the background, someone yells "Quiet on set. Rrrrrrrolling!".Hailey had also revealed that, in the outdoor space the cast call 'the circus', where they have their actors' trailers, they've just bought a table from Ikea (of course) to relax at for chats and smokes. When she has a break on the set, Hailey likes to paint portraits, recently painting Mia Kirshner - Jenny, whose character becomes less annoying in Season 3, though still plenty wacky. Kirshner is also regarded as the cast's prankster and wind-up. "I call her The Spoon, because she's always stirring," said Hailey. During lunch break, actors and crew line up at the catering van. Pam Grier - Kit - is queuing BEHIND Diva (!) and Rachel Shelley - Helena Peabody - scoops up salad, her British accent distinctive as she chats to a colleague. Then, literally bouncing from the cafeteria comes a tanned and stunningly-handsome Daniela Sea, with a fetching pink bandanna around her floppy hair and tight jeans and tee shirt over a fit bod. Having watched her in Season 3 in the US and performing music with her girlfriend Bitch in New York, I had been struck by the gawkiness of both Moira/Max and Sea herself. What a nice surprise, then, that offstage, Sea is smooth, cool, confident and, frankly, inspired. Moira is an amicable, androgynous dork from the Midwest, who hooks up with Jenny on the road, arriving to an initially cold reception in glamorous LA. She then decides to embody her inner identity by becoming Max, dressing and even getting a job as a guy and taking testosterone. "We are very different, me and Moira, but I found parallels for the awkwardness, growing up as I did in LA, with radicals for parents, and feeling like an outsider on issues of gender and sexuality," she says. She gets some interesting reactions on the street now. "I was in the Post Office the other day and this sweet old black guy was, like, 'hey, Max, where's your suit?'," she says, looking pleased. Sea ran away from home as a gay 16-year-old and studied drama at college near San Francisco. Then she set off on her travels, playing with a punk band around England and hanging out with Chumbawamba in Leeds back in the day, playing in 'anarchist spaces' and staying in squats. Then she went to Poland and did acrobatic and musical street performance. She stayed in small villages, working in the fields, and lived in a collective. While travelling in Romania in her twenties, she experimented with passing as a young man - Danny - something she sustained through travels in Kurdistan and India. She says she was not taking a transgender path - feeling as though she was really a male - she was playing with the fluidity of gender, indulging her androgyny and making it a lot easier to live freely in conservative places What about being out? "That's the struggle. A lot of the time I was travelling with my girlfriend. You would be surprised sometimes of the places where it was okay, but Romania was where I first started living as a guy." She adored travelling and is itching for another big trip. She came back to San Francisco about five years ago and then at a music festival met Bitch, who used to perform in the duo Bitch & amp; Animal. "Pretty quickly we fell in love. It was a meeting of minds. We've just celebrated our fourth anniversary," she says, smiling and obviously proud. They live together in Manhattan - and Vancouver. Sea was invited to audition as Moira/Max and now has a lot of input into the character. And she likes her lifestyle. "It's great that Bitch is here with me. She's going on tour soon," said Sea. Then she was off, to swim in Vancouver's huge outdoor salt-water pool.n "I have to work out a lot, for Max," she said. Hailey divides her time between LA and Vancouver, where she lives with her girlfriend. She likes going out running with her iPod, she said. Moennig said she likes riding her bike everywhere and surfing - something she learnt in New Jersey while growing up in nearby Philadelphia. All three find their recognition in the lesbian world, especially in New York or LA, difficult. There was a report that Moennig went into the lesbian Starlight bar in New York with a girlfriend and had to leave as the place resounded to whispers of "Shane, Shane" and 500 women's eyes stared. "Yeah, that's happened to me, and Leisha," Moennig sighs. Now she "goes out for dinner and then home". Jennifer Beals, who plays Bette, joins in, adding that she finds Vancouver more chill. People don't mob the cast - but at the same time gay marriage is legal and even the mainstream Quality Inn Downtown hotel, where Diva stayed, was trumpeting its sponsorship of the local gay volleyball league, and special offers during the gay film festival. Beals, 42, likes to go horseriding and, on set, knits and phones friends, "and nap - napping's a good one." Beals is guarded but charismatic as she tilts her fine-featured face on one side and smiles that luminous smile. Having her break in her twenties as the lead in Flashdance made her one of the most recognisable actors of the Eighties, with relative obscurity in between, until the L Word. "I did not want fame for fame's sake. I did not want to be Julia Roberts,or someone. I like my privacy too much. I like to ride the Subway," she says. Remarried and having recently had a child, Beals' plans are vague, although Quentin Tarrantino's a friend and she'd love to work with him. And, as someone with an African-American father and Irish mother, she values the bi-racial issues raised by Bette, her sister Kit and baby Angelika. But - Power-Bette fans brace yourselves - in Season 3 she unravels as her career and relationship collapse. "Bette won some great battles. But as an actor it was most delicious when she was on the ropes," she says. But the thing Beals has enjoyed most recently was to be the grand marshal at San Francisco Pride. "I fucking loved it," she shrieked. "It was so much fun - and soooo many families!" Reminding people that, as far as we have come, arguably we still need Pride - and The L Word. "If you took The L Word off TV it would be a desert right now," said Ilene Chaiken. And Kate Moennig chimes in that the show must go on. "The more the show is out there," she says, sweeping her slender arm to indicate the wide world outside the studio, "the more it spreads. And that is the whole point of this journey." http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1754 Lesbian and gay couples fighting immigration cases now have new EU legislation on their side. ALLAN BRIDDOCK reports When Susan* met Helen* during a Caribbean holiday in 2001, she never envisaged that they would spend the next five years fighting the Home Office for their right to be together. This month their ordeal is at an end, thanks to a new law that could prove a lifeline to lesbian and gay couples who want to be together but cannot (or simply do not want to) enter into a Civil Partnership. Helen is Jamaican and, like all non-EU nationals, needs permission from the Home Office to live and work in the UK. Although the couple knew they wanted to be together from the start, immigration rules prevented Helen coming to the UK as Susan's partner. In 1997 the new Labour governement did grant lesbian and gay couples rights to stay together under new immigration rules, but only if they'd been in a relationship and living together for at least two years. Obviously for couples like Susan and Helen, who had only met a few months before Helen moved to the UK, meeting this requirement was impossible. On the other hand, straight couples in the same situation simply had to pop down to the local register office and tie the knot. Straight couples in the same situation simply had to pop down to the local register office and tie the knot Helen tried to do everything legally, and paid an immigration 'adviser' to help with her case. The adviser told her he could sort out her immigration status, and sure enough within a few months she got her passport back stamped 'indefinite leave to remain'. The couple were delighted. But when Helen tried to re-enter the UK after a holiday, she was detained, as the stamp she had been given was a forgery. The immigration authorities didn't believe that Helen didn't know the stamp was a forgery, and she was charged and forced to undergo the ordeal of a criminal trial. A jury found her innocent of all charges. Helen's troubles weren't yet over, however, as she still needed to sort out her immigration problems - something she had thought was behind her. Since the introduction of Civil Partnerships - which give almost exactly the same legal rights and responsibilities as marriage, including immigration rights - matters have changed dramatically for lesbians and gay men who want to live with their non-European partners in the UK. The phrase 'civil partner' has been added to the immigration rules, which now make no distinction between a spouse and a civil partner. In other words, there is no discrimination against lesbian and gay civil partners. However, Civil Partnership was not an option for Susan and Helen, as permission from the Home Office is needed if one of the partners is not entitled to live in the UK, and permission will not be granted unless the non-UK partner has at least three months leave to remain left - which Helen did not have. Despite the fact that Susan and Helen had now been together for several years, in a relationship that the Home Office did not doubt was genuine, Helen was still not granted a visa to stay in the UK. Instead, she was forced to make an application to the High Court to review the case. However, before the High Court could decide the application, a new law was introduced and the couple made another application under it, which was granted - to their delight and relief. The 'Citizens' Charter' is a European Union directive that became law in the UK on April 30th 2006. The charter has introduced a new category of 'durable relationship'. Lesbians and gays are included in this new concept, which effectively means that if a lesbian or gay couple can prove to the Home Office that their relationship is 'durable', then the non-EU partner will be allowed to stay as the person's extended family member. However, the European partner must either hold a passport of an EU country other than the UK, or if she has a UK passport only, then she must have lived and worked in another European country before returning to the UK. Helen was able to use the new law, as Susan is originally from Ireland. Kathryn Bradbury, a trainee solicitor at Gherson & amp; Co, Helen's solicitors, said the couple were ecstatic when they heard the news during a Home Office interview. She said: 'I was so happy for them when they were told the news. They both just hugged each other and cried. They have been through so much and have been forced to really fight and fight to be together. I am so happy to have been part of their eventual victory'. How the Home Office will apply the new category in other cases remains to be seen. It has published guidance that couples should be given leave to remain as partners in a durable relationship only where some of the 'unmarried partners' criteria is met, the most restrictive requirement being that the couple must have been living together in a relationship that has subsisted for two years or more. Most immigration lawyers believe this guidance is not compatible with the Citizens Charter and is imposing rules not mentioned within it. Gherson & amp; Co, which is a leading firm of immigration solicitors, has written to the Home Office and complained that the guidance places too high a burden on applicants and a burden that was not envisaged by EU leaders when they agreed the Citizens' Charter directive. The Home Office has responded simply by saying that it is within its rights to issue such guidance to its officers. Nevertheless, the firm is encouraged by the outcome of Helen's case. Despite the Home Office's narrow view of the directive, immigration matters are looking good for lesbian and gay couples. Couples now have three ways in which to get leave to remain for a non-EU partner: as civil partners, as unmarried partners and as partners in a durable relationship. Things have come a long way since 1997, when gay couples had no immigration rights, and were forced to separate or resort to marriages of convenience. Gherson & amp; Co is upbeat about the durable relationship category, and says the firm will be encouraging couples in genuine durable relationships to make an application (with the risk of the application being rejected) even if the couple does not meet the guidance issued by the Home Office. After all, the guidance is just guidance, whereas the Citizens' Charter contains our rights as EU citizens. Gherson & amp; Co believes it will be up to the courts to decide the real meaning of 'durable relationship'. Whatever the outcome, we now have options. *Names and personal details in this article have been changed. The article is intended as general information only and should not be taken as individual advice. To contact Gherson & amp; Co and Kathryn Bradbury, call 020 7724 4488 or click on www.gherson.com Allan Briddock is a barrister specialising in immigration and human rights law and practises from Mitre House Chambers in London. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1753 The L Word may be fluffy nonsense but it's sexy, well-dressed, well-made fluffy nonsense says DONNA MCPHAIL It seems to be an intrinsic part of the British psyche to build something up just in order to tear it down five minutes later (see Millennium Dome, Tim Henman, etc). This is a mean-spirited practice that I personally refuse to buy into; no, I much prefer to rip into things from the word go - it's kinder in the long run and, more importantly, it takes the bitches by surprise. And so it was with The L Word. 'What a pile of old toss', I declared from the outset. 'What a bunch of pretentious "twots",' I followed up, sharp as a knife; and 'silly "cants",' I concluded with a flourish. (If they can mispronounce our body parts, so can I). Weirdly though, hot on the tail of these fiendishly clever put-downs came compliments, like: 'Blimey, she's hot'; followed by: 'Can we rewind that bit and watch it again?' and at least every other minute: 'Ooh, I say, lovely suit'. (Well, you cannot fault the tailoring, can you?) And that's the problem with The L Word. Gritty realism isn't its forte - maybe because it's based in Los Angeles Not just my fun either; as a typical minority group, we moan and groan and hanker for representation in the mainstream media, only to condemn any offerings as a pile of cack as soon as they hit the screen. Really, nothing is good enough for us. The lesbian kiss in Brookside? Too titillating to men. That gay chat-show that ran for five minutes? Amateurish. Queer as Folk? All about poofs. We're that up ourselves I'm beginning to think that someone's put a pea beneath our collective mattress. Still, The L Word is wrong in so many ways that it's hard to know where to start. Honestly, I could rant all day just about the hair - which I know isn't an intrinsic plot-point but every time Jennifer Beals walks into the scene, her hair gets in my eyes. What's with the barnets? I've never seen so much hair that wasn't coming from the underarms, yet looking as though it should be. That café must be the place mullets go to die. I only mention it because straight people watch this programme as well, and I wouldn't want them to think we don't know what a bloody hairbrush is. Or a hairdresser. (My lady friend says I shouldn't slag off Shane because the diddly dykes adore her. Well, that's OK, kiddies, you can look, but don't touch. It's series three now, so you literally do know where she's been. And don't get a haircut off her. Not unless you're planning on getting Hannibal Lecter to do your make-up so that it matches). Not that you ever see Shane actually cutting any hair. In fact, you don't see anyone doing any real work at all. Have you seen the chef's whites? They're white! Which explains why the cast is only a skinny decaf away from a low sugar coma. Even that big lass who sings can only be held responsible for eating one or two of the pies, and she's a drinker. (Although I don't know why she feels the need to drink - she's not even gay.) Still, it's good to have a token straight person in a gay soap for a change, isn't it, instead of the other way round? The L Word is quite big on token characters, if you've noticed. Token straight, token man, token black, token drunk ... there's so many of them, some of the cast have to double up. Then there's token tennis player - I'm sure she's a natural, but even Martina had to practise now and again. And let's not forget the piece de resistance, (that's French for 'taking the piss') - the token 'lesbian-identifying man'. I'm sorry, but I've never heard the like. To me it sounds like some creepy guy who hangs around hoping to pick up the crumbs, in which case he should have a rather large 'L' word of his own, tattooed on his forehead. With all this variety at least there's someone for everyone. The characters run a bit like the Spice Girls in that respect, or maybe the Seven Dwarfs - you know: Crazy, Sporty, Haughty, Naughty, Boring, Cheating and Dead. (Oh sorry, haven't you seen that one yet?) Personally, I've got the hots for the chef, but I wouldn't kick any of them out of bed, not if I'd taken that many hallucinogens that I thought they were in my bed in the first place. Although maybe Alice is a trip too far, but then she's is a writer, isn't she? In fact there are two writers in this show, both as barking as a two-legged pony, so maybe it's more realistic than it appears. Let's face it: gritty realism isn't exactly the show's forte. Maybe it's because it's set in LA, but I can't take any of it that seriously. Like it says in the credits, 'these characters bear no resemblance to people living or dead'. And the lifestyle is totally alien to me, too. It could be just a cultural difference of course; maybe I don't recognise the emotional landscape because I'm distracted by the actual landscape, which is all too foreign to me. Really, the British climate is so much better suited for playing out lesbian traumas in my book. It seems that much harder to bawl your eyes out over some bitch when the sun's out, doesn't it? What you need for a horrendous break-up is a rain storm, a greasy spoon caff and a broken fan belt. We Brits have always had it over the Yanks when it comes to drama - we were brought up on Wuthering Heights for God's sake. Even our men storm out of the house in a hissy fit if there's rain on t' moor. Not that I'm saying we could make a better job of The L Word - far from it. God, can you imagine? What a miserable, turgid, lager-sodden trip down Mammary Lane that would be. Just like EastEnders, but queer. (Eastbenders, I suppose). I've met a few lesbians down the years who look like the Mitchell brothers, and pack a punch like them too, but I don't think I'd want them invading my living room week after week with their beer bellies and their dodgy cue action. No, I'm up for a little escapist fun like everyone else, and The L Word is fun I must admit, through gritted teeth. It is funny. It is. And it's good-looking. And it's really very well-made. Not exactly the gay Dynasty, but it has a quality and a style you wouldn't get if it were made on a shoestring. I couldn't imagine for one moment taking an idea like this to the BBC; Auntie's a good old girl when it comes to dramatising Sarah Waters' books, because for some reason they're seen as risqué without being risky - I think maybe all the colourful period costumes take the edge off the huge, 14-foot wooden dildo leaning up against the wall - but an ongoing, multi-season soap opera about designer dykes? I don't think they'd go for that even if David Tennant was playing the lead. So, hooray for the Yanks I suppose. I don't really know why I'm being so begrudging in the first place. It does slightly bother me that nearly all the actresses are straight - although you'd never think it, would you? The way they go at it with each other at the drop of a hat, you'd think they'd been doing it since the first time they went to band camp. What fabulous artists they are, drawing from their imagination what it must feel like to be finger-fucked by some drop-dead gorgeous bird, and then being able to re-create it for our intense viewing pleasure. They must be truly gifted. Or more probably on the turn, because it's in series three now and there's no sign of the cast going anywhere. Usually you get a little movement, don't you? A couple of cast members leave as couple of new characters evolve? Well, you couldn't get these actresses out with a shoe-horn and a promise of a shag off a man, so they can't be that repulsed. Nor can the general viewing public. For a country that is so fundamentally conservative it's astonishing that The L Word is allowed to exist in the States. In the same way, it's disgraceful that terrestrial TV in the UK have declined to pick it up. What are they waiting for, a guest appearance from Joan Collins? (Oh, I've just made myself feel sick). Luckily, I don't need to wait until Channel 5 pick it up for a song, because we've got Sky. We got it a couple of years ago for the sport because we're big armchair fans. Although we tend to watch The L Word in the bedroom. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1720 From preppy, suburban mall princess to dirty electro queen: ERICA ROBERTS meets bisexual rock chick Peaches To look at her now, it's hard to believe that Peaches was once a preppy suburban 80s' mall-girl called Merrill. As the bisexual queen of dirty electro-cool sashays into the studio for her photo shoot - clad in an impossibly fab gold dress, funky leather jacket, and gold stillies with slave ankle cuffs - there's not even a sniff of the wholesome, all-Canadian Jewish mall princess about her. Not until she opens her mouth, that is. Every sentence is liberally sprinkled with 'like', 'yeah' and the occasional exclamatory 'woah!' I hold my breath for a 'dude' or two, but none are forthcoming - it's possible I've watched too many bad US teen flicks in my time. Besides, she's Canadian. But back to the mall, where the Peaches story begins. As a teenager, growing up in a brand-new development on the outskirts of Toronto, Peaches - aka Merrill Nisker, now approaching her 40th birthday - had no inkling of the future that would await her as an international star of electroclash. She didn't even know she wanted to be a musician. She was, by her own admission, 'excited that the 7/11 was a 15-minute walk away'. And - boundless joy - there was a mall. It became the hub of her social scene, and a place where the ever-changing fads of youth culture were adopted and cast off. 'I had dates in the mall. I'd wear lots of make-up and go hang out there. I went through a preppy time. I wish I could show you - my sister haunts me with a picture of me in a Lacoste sweater with a little polo buttoned-down sweatshirt and blow-dried hair. Then I went mod, then I went hippy. Whatever. Her particular 'burb was '30% Jewish population, 30% Black, and 40% white', and she hung out with about 40 other kids. 'It was a big gang, and we were really loud and crazy,' she drawls. 'It was easy to pick up an acoustic guitar and sing shit about your girlfriend and how much she's hurting you - that whole fake honesty thing I can't stand' Music and dancing played a big part in the gang's social cement. 'I was, like, a disco and early hip-hop kid, because that's what would play when we'd go to our school dances in junior high. When early hip-hop came out, we didn't even know - we just thought it was good dance music. We didn't realise it was a whole new revolution. 'The black kids of course were amazing dancers, and they would be doing the Freak. And so if a black guy came over and danced the Freak with you, then you knew you were doing well! I'd go, 'awwwriiight!' - 'cos we were just a bunch of girls trying to learn all the dances.' But the gang drifted apart. A lot of Peaches' friends moved away, and some started thinking about what they wanted to do with their lives. 'Performing arts schools started to come into existence. I didn't even get it - I didn't understand that I was an artist.' It was, in fact, a touch of the Sapphic brush that then brought Peaches into the world of music performance. 'I had a girlfriend, and she played acoustic guitar, and I did as well. And we just started playing. 'Yeah,' she says pointedly, 'she was my Girlfriend-girlfriend. 'When we decided to split up, someone asked her to sing acoustic at a show, and I muscled my way in and said, "Hey, let's do it together!" 'We thought we were The Indigo Girls,' says Peaches wryly. 'Because we were learning, it was easy to pick up an acoustic guitar and sing shit about your girlfriend and how much she's hurting you or hates you. Like, that whole fake honesty thing that I can't stand.' But morbid lezza singer-songwriter mistakes aside, Peaches was hooked. 'I realised, "oh yeah - I guess I'm a musician". I was in my early 20s then.' Peaches saw the folky error of her ways and quit the band amid high ex-girlfriend dramas. 'But I met up with her recently - it was fun. She's playing music, and doing some kind of massage therapy and stuff.' A lesbian ex, doing massage therapy and acoustic music? To her credit, Peaches manages to relay this information without the slightest hint of a smirk. Moving hastily along, we skip to the present - and, praise the Lord, it's a world away from blow-dried 'dos and budding Beth Ortons. The diminutive Peaches - dress size 8, if you must know - is now unmistakably cool. She's based in Berlin, reached the number six slot on NME's 2003 cool people list, and mixes with the big names of the fashion, art and music worlds. 'I've worked with some of the people I dreamed about working with - like Iggy and Joan Jett. I also got to perform live with a lot of people. I went backstage at a Suicide show, to say "hi" to Alan Vega, and then he said, "Come and do Frankie and Johnny with us!"' Spontaneous live stints with mates have also seen her performing with the Flaming Lips, The Dresden Dolls and a Christmas show for John Waters, in which she cavorted with ten sexy dancers. 'I had my period in my pants, singing a Hanukkah song. It was funny. But the best part,' she laughs, 'was when John Waters came on, and he was like, "I always wanted to have naked elves running around with huge erections, sucking each other off before I went on stage. But I got Peaches!"' She's also appeared alongside Anita Pallenberg, Skin and the All Saints' Shaznay in a John-Malkovich-directed film of Bella Freud's fashion collection, and has had her songs featured in several films, including Lost in Translation. But Peaches still clings to her DIY chic, and with lyrics like hers she ain't never gonna be a mainstream music whore. She's always sniffing out the new, the interesting, the unsigned, but, unlike Madonna, she doesn't pilfer or repackage it for a huge mainstream following. She just admires it, hangs out in the dark clubs of Berlin, and makes friends with people she thinks are cool. We talk about where she thinks the burgeoning creativity of the Noughties is to be found. 'I think there always is that in local scenes. I don't know, I'm sure you might just go, "urgh", but something like Myspace really helps that. Because people can be whoever they want to be now, and they don't have a middle man. Or they don't need TV and they don't need print. They are actually their own media machines.' Punk DIY mentality has transferred itself to the internet, then. 'Yeah. But I have this scary feeling that the internet will become more exclusive. Somehow, they're going to make it more bourgeois, so that all these DIY things can't occur.' Does she hope that the independent artist spirit will crop up elsewhere if it's quashed online? 'Yeah, it has to. Like pirate radio came up. Like when those cool pixel video cameras came out for kids, and the artists started using them. Then they took them off the market.' DIY can also be luxurious, though. Peaches has just finished recording her third album, in Laurel Canyon. 'We did it in a studio with a heated swimming pool, and a five-bedroom house. So I could be a workaholic, or I could be a party-aholic, or whatever. I didn't rent a car, so I couldn't leave.' The album, ingeniously called Impeach My Bush, features Queen of The Stone Age front man Josh Homme and Joan Jett on guitar. 'Joan came over on her 47th birthday just to hang out. Then she liked the song You Love It, and ended up playing on that.' Peaches' birthday gift to Joan was a winner. 'I gave her a big go-go dance in a gold bikini while she was playing the guitar, and then while she was singing, I pressed my gold bikini-bottomed arse against the studio glass for her. So she could have some inspiration.' Another guest on the album is Samantha Maloney (drummer for Hole, Courtney Love band, Motley Crue, and Eagles of Death Metal). 'I just met Samantha last year on New Year's in New York. She was so cool, because we didn't know each other and she said, "Let's just work together. I'll come to Berlin. I don't care" She'd never been to Berlin, she doesn't know me - and she came for two weeks. We had so much fun. But we also worked for ten or eleven hours a day - just hung out in my strange studio that I have in Berlin.' That studio is the renowned art centre Tacheles, a former squat that started life as a Jewish department store in the early 1900s and is now, according to Peaches, 'kind of like a Disneyland squat - tourists are there all the time. You have to lock your door, otherwise tourists would constantly be coming in, going... ' She pauses to adopt a goofy voice. '"Oh, hey, that's pretty cool, what you do!"' Berlin's lesbian scene isn't quite to Peaches' taste. 'It's not that Berlin's dead on the lesbian scene - it needs to have more of a scene. It just seems kind of behind - or like there's just one kind of lesbian. It's still in this strict lesbian scene.' Peaches has now been with a guy for the last four years. He's 6'5" to her 5'4" - and he looks 'kind of heavy metal-ish'. 'He's a stand-up, amazing, strong but silent guy who has a high tolerance,' she laughs. 'I want to be monogamous with him. I still kiss people. I dunno - I think everybody kisses! Everybody has a little fun. He's fantastic.' She says he has the patience needed to deal with her constant touring. And she's soon to embark on a tour opening for Nine Inch Nails and Bauhaus in large stadiums across the US. She's undaunted by the prospect. 'I opened for Manson in stadiums all over Europe. Got spat on a lot. Got in a lot of fights. It wasn't good, but then I turned it around. I mean, a lot of people would've just walked off the stage, and rightly so. But I've got this sickness called, "I Need The Challenge" so I just went out there and told them that they're sheep in black, instead of black sheep. I told them they all should get rainbow outfits.' So this tour should prove interesting. 'Piece of cake! I'll have a band. No problem!' Indeed, for the first time, Peaches will be touring with a live band. And, hallelujah, it's an all-gal effort - with the delicious JD Samson from Le Tigre on keytar and sequencing, aforementioned Samantha Maloney on drums, and Courtney Love guitarist Radio Sloan. They'll be hitting the UK shores around September - and, if her Fatherfucker show at London's Scala in 2003 was anything to go by, it'll be one of the dirtiest, most rocking, electric, wild and hilarious performances you'll ever see. Even if you're not already a fan, leave the mall, ditch the massage therapy for a night and go see her. Get the album. Like, Peaches rocks. Woah. Impeach My Bush is out on July 10th. For more information, visit www.peachesrocks.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1697 Life was looking a little predictable to FREDERICA NOTLEY, until she and her partner threw caution to the wind and headed on a volunteering holiday in Thailand. This morning my girlfriend and I were jolted out of our sleep by a loud thwack just outside our bedroom door. During the night, a cobra had curled up on my flip-flops, which I had left Thai-style in the courtyard outside our room the night before. It turned out that our early alarm call was the sound of the snake being disposed of with a large stick by the owner of our guesthouse. It was my lucky day - I might well have got a nasty surprise, blearily slipping my feet into my flip-flops, had our host not found the slippery creature first. Stoke Newington this ain't! The cosy comforts of home seem remote - but we haven't regretted a moment of our volunteering holiday in Thailand. Last December, I took a deep breath, left the security of my creative and interesting job at an arts centre in Brighton, rented out my flat and caught a plane to Bangkok. I was planning to spend six months travelling and volunteering in South East Asia with my partner, Lila. We had decided to put ourselves through this experience after going on a short holiday last year in Laos. I didn't know how significant it would be at the time, but that holiday has since changed my life. Travelling around the country for a couple of weeks, I had been dazzled and fascinated by the country's terrain, teeming as it was with sun-seared lush forests and muddy brown rivers. Everywhere I looked, I was met with incredible sights - Buddhist monks in saffron robes, and families of four piled atop a single clapped-out motorbike, swerving to avoid chickens, pedestrians and pungent open sewers. It was a world apart from my routine life in chilly Europe. I was determined to bump myself out of my comfortable rut When I got back to England, my girlfriend Lila and I spent a good few nights fantasising about upping sticks to explore a different culture and do something that felt worthwhile. In the UK, Lila teaches circus skills - acrobatics, trapeze, juggling - to children from deprived areas, and we wondered if she could do similar work while we were away. I wanted to find a way to spend time exploring South East Asia, and I was determined to bump myself out of my comfortable rut and take time to look at life from a different perspective. We did a spot of research and discovered that as 30-somethings, we are part of a growing number of people who choose to take a 'gap year' from established careers in search of inspiration and adventure. After a couple of weeks of endless dithering and interminable 'shall-we or shan't-we' conversations, we decided, 'carpe diem!' and began planning in earnest. A few online clicks yielded contacts with groups in Thailand, Laos and Sri Lanka who work with orphans and disadvantaged children - and these groups were keen to meet us. The next step was to figure out how we could afford to take the time out without bankrupting ourselves. Neither of us had savings - but unlike younger back-packers, we each own a flat and realised that if we rented out both, we would have just enough cash to live simply in Asia. Since we arrived in Thailand, we have been living on a budget of £14 a day between us, and working to get a project established. Eating cheaply has been an adventure - Thailand's air is redolent with delicious smells, and we simply follow the aroma of cooking to a street market. We graze from stall to stall, sampling spicy fish cakes on a stick, mystery snacks wrapped in banana leaves or hot noodles cooked on a smoking wok and served up to take away in a plastic bag. Cheap accommodation can be a lottery - our last guesthouse, an imposing historic building in the heart of old Phuket town, offered us a shabby but elegant, high ceilinged room for 330 Baht (about £5) a night. But I woke up hot and itchy at 4am, to find Lila hunting manically through the sheets, popping blood-filled bed bugs that had been feasting on us as we slept. This is not a country for the faint-hearted. As two women travelling together, we haven't received any hassle - a big and unexpected plus for us. Booking a double room hasn't attracted any particular curiosity, and walking through streets hand in hand is quite acceptable. Now that I've got my Thai gaydar tuned in, I see lesbians everywhere. There are the toms - as in tomboy - and the dees, who go for the girly look. But even in the cities that have an established gay scene, it is hard to find events for gay women. We came to Phuket to meet with an organisation that works with orphans and people made homeless by last year's tsunami - and were delighted to find that we had arrived during Phuket's annual Gay Festival. After constructive talks with a human dynamo from a local aid organisation, we decided to head over to Patong Beach, a well-known gay area. There I met up with Bangkok-based business partners Wendy P, a Thai woman, and Nancy Schwartz from New York. These women had organised the only lesbian event at the festival - a boat cruise and snorkelling trip. Having looked at the gap in the market, they've recently set up a tour company, Lesbian Adventures Thailand (www.lathailand.com). They told me that even in Bangkok, there is only one lesbian event - a massive party held every Saturday at the Chit Chat Club hosted by Lesla.com, attracting around 800 women. According to Wendy and Nancy, although gay women are not actively discriminated against in Thailand, they simply don't register on the nation's social radar. Invisibility is the lesbian order of the day, it seems. Nancy had been met with incomprehension and confusion when she talked to Thai acquaintances about living with her female partner. As she put it, 'lesbians are accepted, but not embraced'. This was certainly our experience at the parade - an explosion of camp glamour, with hundreds of cute go-go boys and stylish drag queens striking poses in fantastic costumes with a Thai twist. It's clearly an important event in the local tourist calendar, but there was not one gay woman in the parade. None, that is, until we plucked up the courage to join the back of the parade. Wendy, Nancy, Lila and I proudly waved the banner bearing the legend 'Lesbian Adventures Thailand' and danced down the street, as the crowd took photos, and amicably shouted 'lesbian! lesbian!' at us. I hope that we've paved the way for more lesbians to join next year's parade. One of the joys of taking this time away has been having freedom to follow spontaneous impulses and see where they go. For the first time in at least ten years, I find myself with no fixed agenda or looming deadlines. I feel in control of my life - I am as busy as ever, but doing things that I really want to be doing - whether it's dancing through the street behind a gaggle of ladyboys, writing an article, or meeting fantastic people who are doing amazing work giving hope and independence to people who lost everything in the tsunami. I have given myself a gift and I'm loving every minute of it. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1713 What other woman has inspired simultaneous torrets of adoration and loathing? After a career spanning more than 20 years, LOUISE CAROLIN asks, Is Madonna an icon or a vampire? She only need fall off a horse to make headlines, but this summer's sold-out stadium-tour serves as a monumental reminder that in spite of her age Madonna's fingers are yet to be prised from the microphone. Nor is she about to give up her self-appointed role as agent provocateur par excellence - bring on the disco crucifix, the S/M imagery, the cuss-words directed at world-leaders and the stills of starving children and invading armies. But Madonna's not just a mistress of controversy. She is a woman who has maintained a remarkable degree of professional autonomy, beating the music biz moguls at their own game and wielding considerable industry clout. More than that, she has helped to redefine female sexuality as powerful, assertive and pleasure-focused. And throughout her career she has consistently acknowledged and responded to her gay and lesbian audiences. No big surprise then when readers of Attitude magazine voted her the number one gay icon, in the world, ever. No surprise either that it was Attitude (not ,i>Vogue, not Marie Claire) that got her only UK interview, prior to the release of her new album, Confessions on a Dancefloor. Throughout her career she has consistently acknowledged and responded to her gay and lesbian audiences. Yet her queer audiences remain divided. The fan faction revels in the high camp of her on-stage shenanigans, her gleeful shows of transgressive sexuality and deliberate references to gay culture, while the nay-sayers complain that she's raided our closet (and that of black America) and ripped us off. Lesbian commentators have levelled some biting criticism at the material girl over the years: "She's a cultural robber baron, taking what she wants from wherever she roams, incorporating it into her rhetoric of self-presentation, without so much as an ethical doubt as to the political implications of her gestures," said Jackie Goldsby in 1994. A couple of years later, at the height of the lesbian chic phenomenon, Laura Cottingham griped that she topped the list of the 'absolutely-fake', indulging in 'pseudo-lesbian antics'. But could the antipathy directed at Madonna be misplaced? Before the phrase was coined, Madonna was the poster-girl for 1990s lesbian chic. Long before Brookside or The L-Word brought lipstick lesbians to the small screen, there was Justify My Love. We were hungry to see ourselves reflected in pop-culture and Madonna obliged. 'Where else, apart from a Madonna video, can millions of viewers see two women kissing on prime-time television?' asked academic Sonya Andermahr in her essay, A Queer Love Affair: Madonna and Lesbian and Gay Culture. And Madge didn't stop there. Canoodling with "gal-pal" Sandra Bernhard on TV talk-shows, turning up at New York girl-bar the Cubby Hole, nicking off with Sandra's girlfriend (allegedly) and posing with handsome, knife-wielding dykes for her picture-book, Sex. For a straight girl, Madonna made lesbianism look like really good fun. And there's the rub. In spite of her high-profile flirtations with dyke iconography and real-life totty, what seemed plain at the time was that Madonna's heterosexuality was clearly in place. She was no more a lesbian than she was a dominatrix or a pregnant teen or Marilyn Monroe. The fact that Madonna was free to express lesbianism precisely because she wasn't a dyke stuck in the craw of many a lesbian academic. 'Although she is not now, nor has she ever been, a lesbian, Madonna has found that manipulating the public's anxiety about lesbianism produces a marketable effect - as long as one is not a real lesbian, of course,' fumed Cottingham in her book, Lesbians Are So Chic... But not everyone agrees the point. 'If you want to be an edgy heterosexual woman, you appropriate lesbianism, because it is the final frontier,' says filmmaker and fan, Inga Blackman. 'No straight woman's career has been damaged by playing at being a lesbian. If you're a real lesbian you don't play it up, you run away. Lesbians always play safe. Why aren't we angry with the "real" lesbians for that? Don't blame her!' Or blame the culture that punishes 'real' lesbians (and bi women) while fetishising and rewarding titillating imitations. An appearance on the David Letterman show with comedian Sandra Bernhard in 1991 sparked a furore around Madonna's supposed sexuality when Bernhard and she hinted that they were lovers. Speaking of the incident to US gay monthly The Advocate, Madonna said, 'You know, I love to fuck with people. Just as people have preconceived notions about gay men, they certainly do about gay women. So if I could be some sort of a detonator to that bomb, then I was willing to do that... If it makes people feel better to think that I slept with her, they can think it... You know, I'd almost rather they thought that I did. Just so they could know that here was this girl that everyone was buying records of, and she was eating someone's pussy. So there.' And eventually, she did. Earlier this year, lesbian model Jenny Shimizu revealed that she had an affair with Madonna. Suddenly all the gossip about girlfriend-stealing and coy avoidances by women rumoured to be connected with her had verifiable context. Madonna fucked girls. And boys. So maybe she wasn't a 'real' lesbian, but she was a 'real' bisexual. If her 'real' lesbian critics had been more prepared to engage with Madonna's portrayal of bisexuality as a legitimate and challenging option for women, they might have been better able to acknowledge what a great advert for lesbianism the woman actually was. Asked what she thinks of Madonna, Shimizu told DIVA: 'I believe she is a credit to gay culture. Visibility is extremely important for us and she presents homosexuality in a positive, creative and erotic light. She truly is what she represents: an open-minded individual who explores different life-styles to educate herself about who she really is. I can't imagine a better friend to our community than Madonna.' Throughout her career Madonna has resisted pressure to explain herself. She is rarely interviewed. Compared to other megastars she is almost unreachable in her silence, preferring to let her work speak for itself. To accuse her of ripping 'us' off, of failing to acknowledge her debt to African-American culture, or lesbian gender-fuck, may be missing the point, as Blackman suggests: 'American culture's a fusion, and she is of that culture.' Madonna's unique contribution to contemporary pop culture has been her placing of overtly gay and lesbian iconography at centre stage. Rip-off, or cultural and creative homage? She's not saying, so you decide. In her performances, Madonna presents women with a positive range of reflections and possibilities. She champions bisexuality and sexual ambiguity, co-opting lesbian imagery along the way and prompting some lesbians to complain of exploitation. But the lesbian subcultural references and sexual behaviours borrowed by Her Madge to enhance her vision of freewheeling female sexuality are not our possessions - they are our legacy, our contribution to the show. And, in Madonna's case, right now, it might be the greatest show on earth. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1714 As more lesbian rock and pop acts get their work onto the net on their own terms, the music industry's changing beyond recognition. SARAH-JANE reports About nine months ago, a well known music magazine approached me to write an article about Joni Mitchell for a special issue devoted to guitar legends. As I started to research Joni‚s history I learnt that PJ Harvey, Kristin Hersh, Kim Gordon, Kim Deal, Corin Tucker, Carrie Brownstein and many of the female guitarists whose work I appreciated and admired weren‚t going to be featured in the issue. Ditto Joan Jett, Suzi Quatro, Melissa Etheridge,Chrissie Hynde, Gail Ann Dorsey, Joan Armatrading, Sister Rosetta Tharpe and countless others that have contributed great songs and great guitar licks to the canon of rock, pop and blues. In fact, it quickly transpired that the other ninety-nine musicians and songwriters that comprised the list of 100 were all men. As the news sunk in, I found myself looking through back issues of the magazine and realising there had only been one or two women on the front cover in its entire history. The rest had been reserved for golden oldies like Led Zeppelin, The Grateful Dead, The Who, Rolling Stones and more contemporary bands like The White Stripes and Franz Ferdinand. Reading between the lines, it struck me that although there are a lot more high-profile women writing, recording and producing their own music these days the perception is that they‚re not quite as talented as their male contemporaries and subsequently, they‚re still overshadowed by them. Part of the problem seems to be that rock and roll is still so closely associated with sex and sexuality that female musicians are still expected to look and behave in a certain way. Thus, for every Alison Goldfrapp, Karen O and Meg White there‚s another handful of Pussycat Dolls lip-synching in g-strings. For every Alison Goldfrapp, Karen O and Meg White there's another handful of Pussycat Dolls lip-synching in g-strings. Its a depressing reality, but as Laura Barton emphasised in her excellent article on Ladies Rock Camps in the Guardian a few weeks ago: 'Though we now have almost a century of outstanding female artists, there is clearly still some work to do'. One of the ways in which female musicians and singer-songwriters seem to be trying to readdress the balance and empower themselves, is through the internet and web communities like MySpace. Tired of disappointing record deals with labels that don‚t understand them or their music, established solo artists like Siobhan Fahey (Shakespeare's Sister / Bananarama) and Billie Ray Martin (Electribe 101) have set up their own sites where they can communicate directly with promoters, potential collaborators and fans. Alongside tour dates and news, their sites feature interviews, videos, downloads of new and exclusive tracks and online shops where you can buy their extensive back catalogues. Folk singer Janis Ian, who first came to public attention in the sixties with songs like 'Society'‚s Child and 'At Seventeen', has had an active online presence since the mid nineties when she took her friend Mike Camp's advice and launched her own website. Frustrated with the ageism and indifference she received from certain quarters of the mainstream media, she hoped her site would generate new interest in her work and help her maintain 'a reachable presence‚ without publishing her phone number and address. A decade on, she insists the benefits of running her own site far outweigh the time and money it takes to maintain it. "The bottom line is, it's all about exposure and any reasonable, legal way you can get it is good. As far as my own site is concerned, there's absolutely no question it has expanded my fanbase." Tellingly, Ian insists although she gets over 75,000 hits a year on www.janisian.com, she gets a whole lot more hits on her MySpace profile which she set up last year. "The motivation for setting it up was really more exposure," she states. "I think it's a positive thing when any artist, male or female, signed or unsigned, manages to pass by the normal routines and have some success Œoff the grid‚ and I have had a lot of people who have seen my MySpace profile coming to my site to further check me out." Initially launched in 2003 as Œa social website‚ for New Yorkers to network, create forums, discussion groups and blogs, MySpace has rapidly established itself as one of the web‚s biggest and busiest success stories. Now based in New York, LA and London, it has over 85 million registered users and houses profiles of thousands of independent filmmakers, directors and writers as well as musicians. For new and emerging crossover artists like Lonelady, the appeal of MySpace is that its free, easy to use and has great potential as a promotional tool. Tipped off by a friend, she set up her profile eight months ago and hasn't looked back since. "The MySpace layout is a perfect way for people to get an idea of what you‚re about very quickly," she stresses. "Since joining, I have been contacted by gig promoters, fanzine / magazine writers and industry people." Whether or not anything comes from all these contacts, Lonelady is adamant that "receiving comments and requests from strangers all over the world is encouraging and interesting," and she would recommend any musician who takes their work seriously setting up their own profile. As well as advertising forthcoming gigs and offering free downloads of her tracks, she uses her MySpace page to directly sell her EPs on her own Filthy Home Recordings label. Of course its hard work, writing, recording, producing and marketing your own music, but she insists its gratifying having a small, steady stream of customers from as far afield as London and Croatia. Encouraged by an American musician, Scottish artist Kat Flint set up her profile in August 2005 with the aim of engaging in dialogue with other folk musicians. As well as being invited to play various gigs and festivals across Europe however, she‚s been remixed by strangers, received international airplay, had her music included on compilations and recruited a manager who stumbled across her Œby accident‚ whilst surfing the web. "I've also chatted to some fairly well known musicians quite by accident, just because I've sent a wee message through their page to say I like their songs," she adds cheerfully. "It's a great leveller - and for an unsigned artist that can't help but be a confidence boost. MySpace humanises the whole industry and makes everything seem a lot more attainable. Whether or not that's actually true, it certainly doesn't hurt to believe you might not be fighting a losing battle!" One of the most interesting things about the recent development of MySpace is seeing unsigned and independent artists like Flint and Lonelady rubbing shoulders next to new and established artists on major labels. Eighteen months ago, most of the major labels wouldn't have considered promoting their clients through MySpace, but the success of bands like Arctic Monkeys and Gnarls Barley - who were both championed through the site and iTunes months before they broke - has made them realise the power of having an active online presence and as a result, everyone from Madonna to Coldplay now seems to have their own MySpace page. The difference of course, is that there's no chance of Madonna offering fans free downloads of forthcoming material or sitting up at 3am answering fans queries. As a leading music PR with her own well established company Stone Immaculate, Chris Stone has witnessed the evolution of the MySpace generation with curiosity. "I think for the bands themselves, its a fantastic DIY method and means of bypassing the whole corporate thing," she suggests. "As a press agent however, I approach it cautiously, much as I would if a band sent me a demo. Good and bad stuff gets picked up on in the general scheme of things anyway and the popularity of MySpace just means there's more stuff being heard by more people. That said, I've come across some great bands via the site iLIKETRAiNS, Lupen Crook, Final Fantasy - some of whom we've ended up working with." Though several other industry insiders Diva contracted implied they would also consider promoting, managing or signing an artist through MySpace if they loved the material enough, there are still a lot of people who remain sceptical about the site. Jill Mingo, who represents Chicks On Speed and specialises in promoting independent dance labels, dislikes MySpace so much she refers to it as MySpy and calls it „cheap and nasty marketing for cheap and nasty artists." Despite the artist she manages having a strong MySpace following, she's adamant its "cheap, calculated shit" and that she will not be found cruising the site for potential new clients. That said, in my ongoing search for new acts, I've discovered an incredibly diverse selection of female musicians through MySpace. Some have been recommended by colleagues and associates but most I've discovered through chance and page-hopping. Some of them already seem to have nurtured their talent into something special whilst others sound like they have the potential to grow into interesting artists given the opportunity, encouragement and resources. Of course I've also stumbled across some truly terrible male and female artists along the way, but as all of the musicians interviewed for this feature pointed out: the music industry is also full of average artists making average music. The trick is sieving through the sand and finding the treasure. My advice to burgeoning female musicians looking to get a footing in the music industry is simple: (1) believe you can do it, (2) collaborate with people who believe you can do it (3) learn your craft and write some original songs and (4) play live whenever you get the opportunity. Oh, and log onto the web and let people know you exist. As Kat Flint reinforces: "MySpace is the world's largest demo library complete with information on fanbases, feedback on tracks and the artist as a person not a commodity. For heaven's sake, how can that not be useful?" http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1712 She don't want a lover - not a female one, anyway. No matter, Sharleen's still a big hit with the girls. SADIE LEE asks her why. Her agent had warned I'd have exactly 75 minutes with her. Sharleen Spiteri doesn't do many interviews. She finds biography questions boring. I decide not to ask her any. She strolls into her choice of coffee shop, Tupelo Honey in Camden, North London, punctual to the second. She's casually rock 'n' roll in loose jeans and light blue shirt, discreet henna tattoos curling round her wrist and ankle. The 'Hair' is such a vital part of her lesbian appeal, I study it to make sure my description is accurate and specific. Very black. Collar length. Some oily product making it flop over one eye and give off an expensive smell. If you passed her on the street you'd think 'She's cute' first and 'She's Sharleen Spiteri' second. She orders tea and a sandwich, ignores the long choice of speciality breads and asks if they can make it "with 'Mother's Pride.' " It's the first clue to her lack of pretension. I ask her if she's ever actually been to Texas. "When we first arrived in Dallas it was all big hair and false nails and I remember thinking, 'Oh shit, why did we call ourselves Texas?' " When we first arrived in Dallas it was all big hair and false nails and I remember thinking, 'Oh shit, why did we call ourselves Texas?' " I don't ask why. Her love of the film Paris,Texas and it's slide-guitar-driven Ry Cooder soundtrack is well documented. Instead I suggest that there's a real connection between Scottish people and Country music. She nods. "It's in the genes." Acknowledging that it's become de rigueur for hip new bands to profess a love of Country she remarks "Now they're all quoting fucking Gram Parsons. I mean I could write a good Country song in two seconds. I really love Country music. It's so different now. You got into a band then (indicating The Past with a jerk of her thumb) just because you didn't fit in. It was like, 'I don't want to do a normal job'." Her 'normal job' - which she still doing when Texas released their first single - was as a hairdresser in Glasgow Salon Irvine Rush, in 1986 which she describes without irony as being "dead glamorous". She gives the impression that if it weren't for the inconvenience of having the voice of a sulky angel and the ability to write polished, bluesy rock anthems, she'd be happily cutting hair now. I ask her what she'd do with mine. "I quite like your hair." She peers at it. "I'd add a bit of colour. It sounds strange but green and blue look really good on brown, mousy hair." Brown and mousy. She has the demeanour of an old mate you haven't seen for ages and who in the meantime has embarrassingly won the lottery. Sharleen Spiteri was born in Glasgow on November 7th, 1967, to father Eddie, a violin-playing merchant seaman of Maltese/ Italian descent and mother Vilma, a singer of German/ Irish roots. When she was young the family moved from the Glaswegian suburbs to nearby Balloch, Dumbartonshire, close to the bonny banks of Loch Lomond. At school her nickname was 'Spit the Dog', after the gobbing mutt on the TV show Tiswas. Seeing as she's brought up the subject of spit I ask if I can photograph her drinking from the teacup she's holding. I explain I need evidence as I intend to steal it and sell it on ebay. "You'd get nothing for it. Texas have never managed to sell anything on ebay." This suggests she's tried. "Mind you I've seen a few rare vinyl pieces that have sold for quite a lot of money". She's mentioned vinyl, reminding me we're supposed to be on our way to a record shop to talk musical influences and rummage through some boxes of old 45's. I sneak a look at my watch, aware we've used up 35 of my allotted minutes. She doesn't seem like she's in a hurry to leave so I inquire after her four-year-old daughter, Misty. The name was inspired by the cult Clint Eastwood stalker film 'Play Misty for me'. "I saw it when I was very young and it stuck in my head. Realising about obsession at a young age is a good thing. It teaches you how scary it is." I'm regretting my stalker-ish teacup-stealing joke now but she doesn't look too concerned. She claims she doesn't get recognised that much. "Sometimes I wake up in the morning and look dog rough. I don't need a disguise. That's not the person in those retouched photographs." She's been up since 6am ("because of Madam"), but you wouldn't know it. She looks relaxed and fresh-faced, black mascara on long lashes the only obvious sign of make-up. How much, I ask, on a scale of one to ten, does she hate the phrase 'Yummy Mummy?' She looks blank, as if, up to now, she'd quite liked it. "It is a stupid phrase but I'd rather be called 'Yummy Mummy' than 'Dog-Ugly'." Her image as a Mum is clearly an issue. She announces she drives a G-Wagon and, completely unprovoked, states "It's not a Mummy-Car. Trust me, it's not a fucking Mummy-Car." In 2004 she separated from Misty's father, magazine executive and former editor of Arena magazine, Ashley Heath. The break-up is famously off-limits but she's happy to describe herself as currently single and not in a hurry to change that. I decide to go for broke and ask her if she's ever 'done it with a lady'. Completely un-phased she shakes her head. "Never. I adore women. I just don't sexually fancy women. I mean, who knows, maybe in my life at some point a woman will come along and I'll just fall madly in love with her." Silently, we both pretend we believe this to be a possibility. I almost feel compelled to hug her and tell her it's ok that she's straight: it doesn't make her a bad person. I want to know why she thinks she's such an enduring Lesbian Icon. She smiles. "Because people are probably clear that it in no way bothers me." When Texas released their debut single 'I don't want a lover' in 1986, Sharleen was adamant she didn't want a girly image and insisted on 'Big E' Levi jeans and a leather jacket. She launched a loyal lesbian following as a result. Although contentedly heterosexual, rumours of a more ambiguous sexuality were fuelled by her fondness for androgynous role play in Texas videos. In the 2001 Inner Smile video she appeared as a Drag-King Elvis, complete with prosthetic cheekbones, sideburns and shrink-wrap black leather suit. More recently in the video for Sleep she and comedian Peter Kay recreated 'An Officer and a Gentleman' with Sharleen in the Richard Gere role. She tells me that when performing the song at a Manchester gig this year "I came on in my Sailor suit. It was my big lesbian moment. People went 'is that for the boys?' and I was like 'No, the girrrrls.'" It must be hard for the guys in the band to accept that most of the screaming girls at Texas gigs are there for Sharleen, I suggest. She proudly relates a story about how her drummer spent the whole of one night on tour chatting up two "really, really beautiful Dutch Girls." Not only was he turned down, the girls had left her a single red rose. She re-enacts the bum-wiggling victory dance he had to endure and beams triumphantly. "I always claim that I'm the one member of the band that could actually pull the most beautiful women." She insists on paying our bill "I've sold a few records, I'm doing alright" and we move on to Out on the Floor, our destination vintage record shop. I can see instantly it was both an inspired and terrible idea, as it becomes apparent that Sharleen is a Vinyl Junkie - hooked on every picture sleeve and track-listing in her line of vision. She can't get past any record without singing the title or telling some anecdote about the artist. It is fascinating - but impossible to get her to concentrate on the business of questions. I manage to ascertain that the first single she bought was "'Oliver's Army' by Elvis Costello" and the last album she bought was the " 'Hot Chip' record ". Currently she's into "Transylvanian Gypsy Music." She loves the voices of country/ folk newcomers Joanna Newsome and Martha Wainwright, but can't listen to Joni Mitchell ("nails down a blackboard") or Joan Armatrading ("makes me want to kill myself.") I point out this is 'Lesbian Heresy' but she's unrelenting. In vain I try to steer her towards the Motown section but fail to distract her from the '80's Pop, where she's delighted to find two marked-down Texas singles. She signs them later for the boys in the shop. Eventually I win her attention by asking which two famous people she'd be the bastard child of. She likes this question and bites her lip in deep thought. "Erm...Anne Bancroft.... No...Meryl Streep...". Butting in, I exclaim it's fantastic that she's chosen to be the Turkey-basted bastard of two women. She grins. "I could go for that. If Sam Shepard donates the sperm." Time's up. Actually time was up half an hour ago but she didn't go. She'd barely mentioned the new album Red Book, an accomplished bitter-sweet journey interwoven with shades of electro-pop and folk. It's been heralded as Texas' best achievement since the monumental White on Blonde. But she was more interested in chatting about her respect for her lesbian fanbase than pushing her latest product. She finally walks away down the busy High Street with my lipstick stamped on her cheek. I watch her go and every now and then someone turns and stares, glowing slightly pink as they recognise her. She doesn't seem to notice. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1696 Throw off your hemp dungarees. Sappho's Island of Lesbos has spawned a cosmopolitan arts centre and cocktail culture as well as a thriving novelty T-shirt trade. FELICITY YATES investigates Last summer I spotted two New Yorkers sipping icy ouzos at Cantina Moon on Lesbos' most famous beach, wearing nothing but thongs, shades and skimpy vests bearing the slogan; 'I went to Skala Eressos and all I got was RSI'. As much as this tickled my funny bone, I wondered if sex was the sole pull for the returning hoards of lesbian holidaymakers. After a few years on the wrong side of the lesbian rumour mill 'Skala-la-la-la' appears to be back on the up with new lesbian-run businesses, and restoring its reputation as the world's most lively lesbian Mecca. Skala Eressos at last has an alternative to hanging out on the beach and in the bars. Sappho Garden of the Arts is the island's first dedicated performance space and a welcome addition to the town. The centre has planned a live arts programme that's bound to be a hit with holidaymakers because it's open to all-comers. Divas, drags acts, stage stars and wannabes - bring your slap and costumes. Vicky Lyboropoulou, former owner of infamous Fuegos, has opened Aqua, a new bar on the sea front, giving sun worshippers the chance to stumble off the beach for a couple of caiparinias before dinner and return at night to party in the joyful atmosphere. Fuegos was legendary - full of wild Italian and Greek dykes in August, prone to anarchy and glamour all season. The music crosses from R& B, house and mainstream depending on the night. The Tenth Muse has had a makeover. No-one can miss this favourite on the village square, with its famous sofas, friendly staff and tiny dancefloor. Muse's, as it's affectionately known, was Skala's first lesbian bar, named after Plato's moniker; 'Behold, Sappho of Lesvos is the tenth Muse'. Muse's bar/ cafe serves as a clubhouse for dyke footballers, too. They organise a weekly 'international' match at the local five-a-side football pitch, and donate the alcoholic trophy, usually tequila, to the winning team. The other lesbian-owned bar, Mylos, down by the harbour is more mixed. Its new manager's brief is to bring cutting-edge DJs to play for those who love its urban atmosphere and outdoor pool table - surely the most chilled-out, or tribal, game of pool you'll ever play. And when you get hungry, there are plenty of watering holes to choose from. The delicious gourmet food of the now-defunct Sappho Hotel has found a new home - same chef, same ambience but a different view of the sunset, is all we can reveal. Tchavari is tipped to come under parish ownership, while the best of the locally-run tavernas remain intact; Solatsou, the Blue Sardine and Karavagiannos are DIVA's top three. Erstwhile Viennese cafe Margaritari has been taken by stylish French chef and jazz aficionado Alice Nordmann and is staffed by Greek god gay boys. Fuegos was legendary - full of wild Italian and Greek dykes in August, prone to anarchy and glamour all season Behind the scenes, photographer Karolina Denning and her daughter, aka DJ Balekta, have opened @eressos, a specialist digital photography centre that also exhibits prints by the dozens of local women snappers inspired by the beauty of Lesvos. Arty tourists can also visit Rena Lamroussi's working studio, Polytechneio, to view lyrical paintings and quirky objects d'art. Lachari gift shop near Muse's is owned by Christina Karamina, who's known to many regulars for her back-lane souvlaki empire, Steki. DIVA also recommends Nikos Masakis' shop, Helidoni, next to the open-air cinema. Nikos sells an excellent selection of chill-out, Latin, house and Greek CDs, and has a visiting tattooist whose work is beautiful and was very popular with dykes last year. At Kinky Planet you'll find funky clothes from top Athenian designers and UK labels like Punky Fish, and there's now a new lesbian-run launderette. If you want a break from the women's scene, don't miss Par A Sol, the straight, lesbian-friendly, cool cocktail bar. Here you'll find ambient Latina grooves, the best piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris, live reggae and Latin jazz nights and superb fire jugglers on the beach. After hours - this is an issue; local licensing laws dictate the bars stop the music at 1am or 2am - there'll be monthly women's nights with Greek lesbian DJs Maria Cyber and Sofia Trantali at Skala's official nightclub, Naos. There are occasional lock-ins at bars we can't name here, but ask around - and beach parties you'll hear about on the grapevine, or be able to spot by the bonfires at the far end of the beach. The beach has its own organic culture. It's a meeting place for young Greek 'free programme' freaks who camp there, and you'll find Bouzouki players, flamenco guitarists and drummers jamming around campfires at night. The Greek lesbian girls do this too, and nothing beats lying on the beach watching the shooting stars in August, listening to gales of laughter washing over the sand. Many a lesbian finds her sunbathing sessions mutate into a peaceful evening under the moonlight, and you can get provisions from Cantina Moon for sunset picnics. Also at sunset there's a tradition of beach volleyball games, a great way to meet people. If you're not a party animal, the valley of Eressos is full of archaeological and wildlife discoveries, and local women specialise as guides through the maze of stone-walled dirt roads behind Skala. There are boat trips to deserted beaches at Creussos and Sigri, and women-only sunset cruises. Or you can really chill out; Tai Chi training, shiatsu, reflexology, osteopathy, Reiki, Hawaiian and Ayurdevic massage are available, and there's even a resident astrologer. If you just want peace and inspiration, return to the Sappho Garden of the Arts' gallery cafe in the day. You can browse Penelope's Sapphic bookshop, listen to classical music in the afternoons or get creative with art classes, writers groups, theatre skills, meditation and massage workshops. So why come? For the thrill of spotting shops advertising Pure Lesbian Honey - just in case you didn't find your own. For the crystal-clear Aegean Sea, the freedom of sunbathing naked in the women's zone of Eressos' gorgeous beach, the music, the landscape, relaxed downtown ambience. Maybe it was the Greek's filoxenia hospitality that drew you, or the artistic hubris of imaging you're one of Sappho's scholars. Take your pick. Getting there: Direct charters flights to Lesvos leave from Gatwick and Manchester, or get to Athens and take Aegean or Olympic Airways flights to Mitilene airport. Off-season, packages to other resorts on the island can be cheaper. Travel: Taxis from the airport are expensive; 60 Euros one way, so it's worth dyke-spotting on the plane for sharing taxis. For a few Euros more, you can drive yourself across the island. Miscellaneous: Unlock your mobile phone; Greek Sim cards are cheaper than roaming. Learn to say 'hello' ('yasou') and 'thank you' ('efharisto') before you come, and the one-size-fits-all praise phrase; 'para poly oreo'. This means 'very very good', 'nice', 'beautiful', or 'tasty', or 'very, very strong' when addressed to bartenders. Alcohol measures are triple those of the UK. Wear Factor 30 sun block for the first two days; you'll tan better afterwards. There are a few mosquitoes around at night. You can by everything you need locally, and the tap water is safe to drink. www.sapphotravel.com: for info, booking rooms, etc www.sapphogarden.com: performers can also contact the events manager via the site http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1695 FIONA HARVEY gets a buzz from the latest dating technology There's a beautiful episode right at the beginning of Alan Hollinghurst's Man Booker Prize-winning gay novel, The Line of Beauty, shortly to be shown on the BBC, where the hero is on his way out on his first blind date with another man. First there are the days of delicious anticipation, and Nick the hero spends hours wondering what the other boy will look like, what he'll sound like and what he'll wear. Then the anxiety kicks in - what will they talk about? Will the two of them get on? What's the best thing to wear, to look dressed up but not too effortful? Everyone knows what it's like. The date seems impossibly far away at first, then before you know what you're doing you're standing in a panic outside the pub where you're going to meet, wondering if you can pluck up the courage to go in. You've planned everything meticulously, but nothing is as you thought it would be. They're shorter or taller than you'd pictured them, they're fair and in the photo they looked dark. Suddenly your mind is blank, all those carefully worked-out quips and conversational gambits forgotten. You worry that your perfume is too over-powering, or that you didn't brush your teeth enough. You worry that your laugh sounds stupid and false. But even if it all goes horribly wrong, that initial excitement, the adrenalin and the giddiness of those first few minutes - before you realise you'll be going home alone - are hard to beat. In the book, set in the 1980s, the date is arranged by letter, through an advertisement in the newspaper. That seems hopelessly old-fashioned now. Today, our would-be suitors would almost certainly have met online. The gay community has taken to online dating like moggies to catnip. Millions of us now log onto the internet regularly in order to update our photos, our personal profiles, to check our emails and to find out who else is online for a virtual chat. Some services, such as Gaydar, are now charging for aspects of their service. But it's still easy to test out bits of the sites for free, and decide whether your woman-hunting warrants a little upfront investment. Using mobile phones, you can send flityy - or dirty - texts to the object of your desire. You can go even further on a video phone And, indeed, there are now even easier ways to meet the woman of your dreams than by going online, though they're still facilitated by the latest technology. These days, you can date over your mobile phone using mobile personals. You can send flirty - even dirty - texts to the object of your desire, and if you have a video phone you can go even further, if you know what we mean. In fact, companies like 3 and Vodafone quickly realised that sex would be one of the main selling points of video phones. The ability to download short snatches of porn has been heavily marketed to men - less so to women. But for us, the online dating aspect may be much more of a goer. Imagine not only being able to swap messages, but also to text-talk live to a person you've never met before - bingo; you can date safely in the comfort of your own home with a new person. Of course, you can already do this online with webcams, but video mobile phones allow those of us without the necessary web savvy or equipment to get on with the live video chat too. Think about it - it gives a whole new meaning to the term phone sex. Video phone sex works best through a service that'll let you hook up with people after browsing through a bunch of profiles, much in the way that most online dating services work. But what about when you're out on the scene and meeting people in the flesh? A new service that'll help you to decide whether there's an instant zing with a new face is about to appear over the technological horizon. It's a new way of meeting people through your mobile phone, because it'll immediately alert you through your phone when people who match your desired date profile are in the vicinity. It works using Bluetooth technology, a kind of wireless communication, and picks up on other phones within 10 metres which are operating the same service. It works a bit like a standard online dating services, in that you devise a profile for yourself, and tick some boxes to show the kind of attributes that would interest you in a potential date. Then the clever little computer at the back flicks through all the submitted details and sorts out whose profiles match up best with one another. In this case, the information from your profile is beamed directly to the other person's phone and if you're compatible, both phones will vibrate. (Tip: when it does this, try to act just a little bit cool rather than screaming in surprise.) You can then quickly glance around to see who else is examining their phone in a state of puzzlement, and you've probably found your date for the night. Readers with long memories might recall that a similar service was launched a few years ago, but never really took off, partly because people were expected to go round wearing a special little electronic widget, a bit like a pager. The inconvenience of having to do that put punters off, so the service never managed to reach the critical mass necessary to make it viable. Jooles, a computer expert, explains: 'A network is only as useful as the number of people on it'. In other words, if you're the only girl in town with a bleepy vibrating gadget, you're going to end up using it alone in the end. The upcoming service - because it relies purely on mobile phones which everyone has anyway - should have much more of a chance of working. That will make casual pick-ups in bars much easier, but many people will still prefer online dating to get their flings. Electronic dating allows you to get to know someone, and find out whether their interests match yours, whether you like their sense of humour, whether you're on the same wavelength, before you actually meet them. But there's another big advantage. Rejections are much easier to take in a 'virtual' environment than in real life. Having to turn someone down after you've met them is much harder for both parties than simply letting an online relationship lapse. Things have moved fast since the early 1980s, when we sent out our dating hopes by letter through personal ads. But the essence of blind dating - the anticipation, the anxiety, the delicious thrill of endless possibility just before you meet that new person - will always remain the same. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1679 The New York lesbian clubbing scene must be one of the toughest to crack, so is it any wonder, asks JOANNA WALTERS, that it's pretty much disappeared? There's a scene in the second season of The L Word when Bette walks up to the door of the famous Starlight bar in New York's East Village, and the backlit name shines out, filling the night with the promise of martini and sex. Bette glides into the cool, multi-layered womb of urban chic with clusters of super-cool lesbians draped artfully listening to great lounge music. Reality check. The shot of the bar's exterior's genuine, but the interior isn't; not only is it not Starlight, but it also doesn't exist in New York. It's widely agreed that Starlight is one of the best lesbian bars in New York, and on its allotted weekly women's night (that go-crazy night - Sunday) the long, narrow bar and glowing lounge-cave at the back are crammed with sharp-elbowed women fighting for space to watch the cuties cruise by. The crush is a mark of its long-standing success, and a sign that it's one of a limited number of sure-shot venues on the struggling NY lesbian nightlife scene. It's about the only thing that's truly alive in the East Village, formerly the city's lesbian magnet. The L Word fiction and the contrasting reality is something many lesbian visitors to New York experience when looking for what they think will be a throbbing scene in one of the most exciting cities on Earth. The truth is, New York's lesbian nightlife is limited, often lukewarm, and has had its heyday as a cohesive community of edgy artists, performers and activists. 'I call it The Incredible Shrinking Lesbian scene' 'I call it The Incredible Shrinking Lesbian... scene,' said Stephanie Perdomo, who runs her lesbian action-figures business, Dykedolls.com, from her apartment next to the legendary Tomkins Square Park. The former poetry-slam-and-politics epicentre is now more a hipster haven in the gentrified East Village. Many complain that the New York lesbian scene is dead. Even those involved admit that the nightlife has suffered from rocketing Manhattan rents, tougher licensing laws for dancing venues, a lack of influential new party promoters and the lingering buzz-kill of the terrorist attacks of September 11 2001. Some say the glamorous lesbian venues aren't there because the scene's fragmented and segregated. Ironically, the growing acceptance of lesbians in mainstream society has meant a blurring of the lines to the point where many dykes don't feel the need to seek out 'queer' environments in which to socialise, perform or work. New York's East Village and Lower East Side used to be Lesbian Central. There was Meow Mix, the grungy but popular Mad Clams at The Hole, a strong mix of lesbians at (now defunct) Wonderbar and, more recently, GirlBar. All have gone out of business within the last three years. A gal could shop in the early evening for dildos at Toys in Babeland (still going) or books and coffee at Blue Stockings (saved after almost going under), then grab something to eat before having a drink at Wonder, floating into Meow Mix, going onto The Hole and finishing off at an all-night cafe on St Mark's Place. It wasn't the most glamorous night out, but there were plenty of women out on the prowl. Now, east of The Bowery, the famous north-south artery that marks the start of the East Village, there's little for lesbians except Starlight on Sundays - it's packed on Fridays and Saturdays too, but with gay men. And legendary Doc Hollidays on Avenue A is a scary dive these days. Meanwhile, the Bowery Bar used to offer a good mix of lesbians, gay men and straights but is now almost 100% very straight straights and gay men. Bar Nowhere on 14th Street between First and Second Avenues, part-owned by Jet Clark, is trying hard to become the new dyke-bar magnet but has yet to muster a critical mass. 'Dykes come in here and ask me where they should go to find "the scene". I honestly don't know what to tell them,' Clark told DIVA. Most end up in the West Village, at long-standing Henrietta Hudson's, Rubyfruit or the Cubbyhole. Crazy Nanny's has gone, but these other three are New York's best-known seven-nights-a-week lesbian bars. As for further uptown, clubs Heaven, Escualita and Lovergirl are as well established, but all suffer from being typecast as tired and too 'bridge-and-tunnel' (ie, non-Manhattan clientele and regarded as unsophisticated). Henrietta's has recently been refurbished and expanded and packs in a mixed crowd, especially vibrant on weekends, but the prevailing attitude and fashion standards are too downmarket for some. 'Any lesbian bar is basically a pick-up scene, but Henrietta's seemed kind of sketchy and aggressive,' said Ann Solomon, 24, a housing officer from East Flatbush in Brooklyn. 'A date took me to Ruby's and we were the youngest people there by about 25 years,' she added. Legendary Rubyfruit undeniably caters for an older crowd, often in town from upstate or New Jersey, but things on the scene shift and they've recently brought in DJs upstairs on Friday and Saturday nights who attract an early-30s crowd. There's some dancing in the small space and a funky atmosphere. Solomon was hanging out in the back-lounge at Starlight when she and her friend, Ginny Browne, also 24, talked to DIVA. As well as Starlight, they love Cattyshack, the cool new gem on the NY lesbian scene. But one of its advantages is also a disadvantage for many - it's in Brooklyn. Since the old Park Slope lesbian institution The Rising Cafe closed its doors in 2003, the area had been surviving mainly on Ginger's on 5th Avenue, a homely lesbian pub. But some of the main players behind Meow Mix took over an old garage on 4th Avenue two years ago and built the multi-level Cattyshack from scratch. It's been an instant hit, and even Manhattanites will take the Subway to dance to its house, funk, dance, hip-hop, etc, scene that covers over two floors, with a lounge and outdoor deck. It's not necessarily the glamorous, lesbian-Chelsea-equivalent hotspot many NY lesbians fantasise about, but for a scene that was starving for a new spot, it's spot-on. Of course, as soon as it took off, all the Manhattan girls asked why they couldn't have a Cattyshack on the island, too. 'Duh. It's what it is because it's in Brooklyn. It's THE neighbourhood club, so everyone goes there. It has a great mix of women, which couldn't happen in Manhattan,' said Amy Melinda, editor-in-chief of lesbian what's-on magazine Go NYC. Any lesbian visiting New York will find Go NYC (www.gonycmagazine.com) essential. Many parties are occasional, and so many 'women's nights' come and go that it's vital for checking what's alive and kicking at any one time. Tuesday night's Snapshot at Bar 13 has been going for two years now, so should still be throbbing when you visit. Wednesday nights at gay bar Metropolitan in Brooklyn's Williamsburg is a regular, with attendance levels and crowds a mixed bag. Newcomers include Evolution Thursdays at Vesta and the aspirational monthly nighter Pillow Talk at Club Duvet in Chelsea. The only way to keep track of the shifting scene is to get online and check Go NYC and Time Out - then accept that the night you go could be hit or miss. On the cultural scene, the WOW Cafe theatre collective celebrates its 25th anniversary this year, while La Mama Etc experimental theatre and workshop has been around since 1961. But neither of these East Village institutions generates a huge buzz in the lesbian community any more. 'The lesbian scene's always been less creative and two steps behind. It's a very sad state of affairs. Lesbian rock music - that's the only area that's doing well. 'But lesbian creativity's also moving beyond categories. Peaches is opening for Nine Inch Nails and has a fine new album - but she's completely pan-sexual. Lisa Kron is on Broadway as playwright/ performer, and there are two out lesbian opera singers at The Met,' said Elisabeth Vincentelli, arts and entertainment editor of Time Out New York and a Park Slope-dwelling lesbian. 'The lesbian cultural scene is in parallel with the New York scene in general. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before finding anything decent. It's partly the commercialisation of Broadway and theatre,' she continued. Many commentators believe lesbian interests have blurred with mainstream interests of the moment - the anti-war movement, the environment, and gay marriage. 'The mainstream-gay community's all about gay marriage now and I'm like, "Fuck you!"; human rights, the whole rainbow thing - we shouldn't be trying to run a law firm here. It's boring. The line now isn't between gay and straight but between the creative and the boring bourgeois. I'll take a fun, straight person over a dull, earnest gay marriage campaigner any day,' said Vincentelli. Mo Pitkin's, the quirky bar and eatery on Avenue A often has lesbian bands and performances, such as Daniela Sea (Moira aspiring-to-become Max in The L Word) singing in a band with her girlfriend, Bitch (formerly of Bitch and Animal), or stalwart drag king Murray Hill. 'There's good stuff, but it's like hunting for truffles,' said TV producer Nancy Swartz. But if increasing equality had dulled the NY lesbian nightlife and cultural scene because dykes feel less need to ghettoise themselves, the same hasn't happened on the lesbian scene, so there must be other reasons. 'It's very fragmented and there's a lot of segregation within the lesbian scene,' said Jet Clark. 'There're the baby dyke/ tranny boi/ Latina/ hip-hop parties, etc - they divide the numbers up too much, and you know what to expect when you go to a particular venue or party, so you end up not bothering.' Jet and buddy Julie Tolentino ran the Clit Club in the 80s and early 90s in the Meatpacking District, which was then a very fringy, risky area of after-dark New York. That made the iconic club edgy, and a low-rent space. Now, this north-of-West-Village neighbourhood has turned into a serious yuppie paradise, with matching rents. And when Mayor Rudy Giuliani 'cleaned up' the city in a major crackdown on crime in the 90s, he closed down many red-light areas, strip clubs and clamped down on the proliferation of bars and nightclubs in general. It's very difficult to get a licence to open a new bar in Manhattan now and a nightmare to get a 'cabaret' licence that allows dancing. 'We were going to re-start the Clit Club, but we couldn't find a space. To get a decent club in a decent place on a Friday or Saturday night is hard. Big club owners need you to produce a magical sensation from day one; otherwise, they know they can make the same money from half the number of gay guys because they drink much more,' added Jet. For Amy Melinda, there's good news and bad news. Successful lesbians are more integrated into society than ever - making their films, editing their magazines, running their businesses, DJ-ing, acting and singing for everyone, not just lesbians. She rejects the notion that the scene's dead or even shrinking. 'I've been listening to lesbians whining for 25 years that there's nowhere to go. But there's a lot going on that's seasonal, one-off, or just outside your neighbourhood. So don't be lazy; check it out and turn up.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1678 Celebrity camping enthusiast Sienna Miller has lent glamour to life under canvas. But what do you do if campsite owners turn you away because they think you're gay? BRYONY WEAVER finds that those days may be over In August 2004, my partner decided to reintroduce me to the joys of camping, bless her, and we booked a week on the beautiful Gower coast in South Wales. Having spent my childhood there - and occasional holidays under canvas when my father's enthusiasm ran to a large four-berth family tent - the spectacular views of Three Cliffs Bay from the Penmaen Campsite were worth having to pitch the tent in the driving rain in the semi-dark on a soggy patch of grass that sloped to the left. But we had the view of the cliffs curving out past the riptide of the estuary wash into the bay every morning, and things dried out eventually. The site owners were friendly, and apart from a couple of thoughtful looks, so were the neighbours, but whether that was because we just assumed there'd be no trouble and carried all before or because they just didn't care, I don't know. Camping, so much a part of the family holiday scene in the 70s, has suddenly become popular again. Traditionally, us lesbians have always had a nose for the outdoors and healthy option, low-impact tourism, but the appearance of state-of-the-art, high-tech materials with high hydrostatic heads (yep, I had to ask about this one: it means the amount of water in millimetres a material can take before it starts leaking all over your dry clothes and Cheerios. The higher the HH, the dryer your PJs) and separate layer, breathable inner tents and sleeping compartments has practically turned camping into a spectator sport. And as keen and long-time camper Nicky Herriot and her partner Jude admit, on women-only sites you'll find the best pickings: 'It's a chance to catch up with people you only ever see on campsites, watch cars arriving, hug everyone, meet new women, help put up tents - and wander around looking at each other's new camping gear.' Despite websites like www.kampwomen.com/4556.html offering suggestions as to where to find a warm welcome, most of us, unless we've been brave enough to phone in advance and ask about a camp's gender policy, have to pitch up at a site and hope the neighbours aren't going to cut in on our enjoyment of each other's company. 'It's a chance to catch up with people you only ever see on campsites, help put up tents - and wander around looking at each other's new camping gear' Mandy runs a unique campsite, La Rosa, just outside Whitby, Yorkshire. This romantically bohemian site only takes a few visitors at any one time, and the accommodation is, as the website states, 'extraordinaire'. Dotted around the 20-acre, low-impact site (lighting is oil lamps or candles only), campers can choose from the gypsy caravan, a tepee, a 50s' chrome Roma caravan and other classic abodes, all full of kitsch ornaments and accoutrements that'll send you spinning out of time into a natural 'theme park' with a big difference. The showers are in a converted byre and the compost loo is in a vintage wooden shepherd's hut. They take group bookings of up to 20 people, and everyone's welcome except 'racists, bigots or puritans'. (Office: 30 Falcon Terrace, Whitby YO21 1EH, 01947 601349/ 07786 072 866, www.larosa.co.uk). Herriot spends a lot of her camping time in and around Wales: 'Llangennith on the Gower has great surf. The site we often go to (Hillend Campsite, Hillend, Llangennith, Gower, Swansea SA3, 01792 386204) has an excellent field, and a lot of lesbians camp there. There are lesbians on the staff, they sell DIVA in the shop, and it hosts the women-only surf camp every year. It's always full in the summer.' Louise Spencer has trekked down to Cornwall for a number of years, and loves the Little Trevarrack site (Laity Lane, Carbis Bay, St Ives, TR26, 01736 797580): 'It's got nice pitches, marked out with hedges, and lovely clean showers.' And a childhood dearth of canvas meant Jill, along with her partner Jo (surnames withheld) and their toddler, have been making up for lost time ever since, mostly in the Studlands area of Dorset: 'I love it; I never went as kid,' says Jill. 'It was a totally alien thing, but then as a punk teen, I hitched down to the Stonehenge Festival and had the time of my life. I loved the 'outdoor-ness', the friendliness; it was brilliant. After that, I started going camping and to festivals.' But unless you've been a veteran of camping survival ever since your parents stuffed you into a leaky anorak, told you to go play on the sanddunes in a force ten gale, and you quickly found that the camp shop was the only thing standing between you and hyperthermia, how do you spot the sites which are likely to be gay-friendly and those which aren't? 'I stay away from places that look like housing estates and caravan sites,' advises Jill. 'The more relaxed, sites are the better ones. The more organised ones that have games rooms, swimming pool, bigger facilities, the "family family" ones, want to encourage what they see as "hetero, children, families". I look out for friendly-looking types, a more relaxed vibe. As lesbians, we've found there's a problem with more 'traditional family' sites. We don't fit the mould. Basically, stay away from "straightsville". And if trouble does rear its head, for Louise the best form of defence is obliviousness: 'We've had the usual - just stares and odd looks, really, nothing said - but we just get on with it and take no notice.' It may well be best to ignore anything adverse once you're on a site, but sometimes the first step is actually getting on it. Jill and Jo had a particularly bad experience of exclusion: 'When our daughter was five months old, we were driving up to Scotland in our camper van and stopped off in The Lake District. It was 10 at night, but the owner of this site we stopped at wouldn't let us in. He said, "No same-sex couples". We were all so tired, I made out we weren't a couple. I said, "Look, I'm travelling with my sister-in-law", 'cos we were desperate by this time. But he just kept saying, "No, no, we can't do that", and it was obviously out of homophobia. It was disgraceful. I said, 'We've got a young baby', but he wasn't budging. So, we drove for another half hour and stopped at an old farm. They let us stay around the back. We told them what had happened, and they were appalled. They said that it was absolutely not the attitude they wanted tourists to the area to experience.' As the law currently stands, Section 35Y of the Equal Opportunity Act from 1984 to 2006 has long held it unlawful for a person who provides goods, services or facilities for free or for hire to discriminate against another person on the grounds of race, age, sex and disability. The implication is that it's been unlawful for them to discriminate against gay men and lesbians too, where it could be proven that someone was turned away because of their sexuality or perceived sexuality - and that's been the tricky bit. However, the Equality Act 2006 included a power that allows the Government to stop discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation in the provision of goods, facilities and services, in education and in the exercise of public functions. That enabled Stonewall to push through amendments and proposals to outlaw sexual orientation discrimination in the provision of goods and services to the Equality Bill in the House of Lords, hopefully making it unequivocally illegal to discriminate against lesbians and gay men in their provision. Alan Wardle, Stonewall's director of parliamentary and public affairs, told DIVA: 'Campsites, along with providers of other service, will be covered by the new regulations and will have to comply with them. That'll mean they can't turn away couples because of their sexual orientation or perceived sexual orientation.' Even after the new legislation comes in, in places where the news hasn't got through to hotel proprietors and campsite owners, it may all hinge on whether someone who's barred entrance is prepared to push the point or is willing to prosecute after the event. Unless that happens, site owners will remain ignorant. However, there'll be an exception to the new laws and protections. Owners will be allowed to refuse single-sex groups under certain circumstances. Alan Wardle explains: 'Campsite providers will be able to have a policy on stag and hen nights, and the admittance of large single-sex groups. If they believe a group will cause trouble, they'll have the right to control entrance policy.' Again, perhaps the solution is to push it or, as Wardle advises, 'Phone in advance to the venue or site to see what their policy is. It's unlikely that groups of more than five or six will be allowed, but always check if you can.' And you can always do what Nicky and friends did one year: 'Shell Island (North Wales) was a bit wary of lots of women camping together, but we said we weren't a hen night so they let us in. One year we came in smaller groups and camped together.' Until the new regulations on the goods services provisions kick - Wardle expects that the mooted October deadline will be pushed back towards the end of 2006, as no date has been given yet - perhaps it's safer to stick to the smaller, more informal sites for a guaranteed welcome. 'Society's really changing,' adds Jill, 'and that's reflected by the welcome you get on the farm-style sites, the fields given over to camping. They've obviously seen lesbians, gay men, travellers, all sorts, and they're not as uptight about it.' But if you decide to opt for a women-only campsite, and are off camping to meet new friends and maybe do a spot of flirting, there's one vital piece of camping equipment you must have. 'Carry a can or bottle opener when you're walking around the site, says Nicky. 'It's a great way to meet women.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1677 Lesbians in the Middle East lead a dangerous existence. BRIAN WHITAKER explores how, against all odds, they manage to survive. While it's true that gay men have a tough time in most of the Middle East - recent murders by militias in Iraq and executions in Iran are proof of that - we hear far less about lesbians. In a macho society, where men run the show and women count for little, lesbians are almost invisible. Though homosexuality - both male and female - is generally a taboo subject in the Middle East, there is plenty of evidence that all-woman action is more common than people imagine, and much of it takes place under the noses of unsuspecting husbands. For married women, lesbian activity can be a safe way of adding spice to their sex life. The typical Arab husband jealously guards his wife from the attentions of other men, but the possibility that she might be having a fling with another woman hardly ever occurs to him. The wife, in turn, has no need to account to her husband for time spent with women. He will be satisfied just to know she is not spending her time with men. This invisibility has advantages and disadvantages, according to Laila, an Egyptian lesbian in her twenties. In the big cities of Egypt, two women living together as 'flatmates' would not arouse much curiosity, Laila said - though that would depend on their choice of district. Neighbours would first wonder if they were prostitutes and would probably quiz the bawwab, the doorman who watches all comings and goings in Egyptian blocks of flats. In the big cities of Egypt, two women living together as 'flatmates' would not arouse much curiosity If satisfied on the prostitution front, neighbours might then imagine other explanations for the girls' presence, such as quarrels with parents. 'They would think of anything else but lesbianism,' Laila said. She recalled how much one lesbian couple in Cairo had been adored by their landlady. 'I wish all my tenants were like you,' the landlady told them, suspecting nothing. Invisibility also brings isolation and loneliness, though. 'We cannot find a specific way to meet and talk, not just to have sex,' said Laila. 'There are no lesbian organisations in Egypt, either for discussion or support. Heterosexuals and gay men have their pick-up points, but we don't.' One popular meeting place used to be a public bath - where women would go for hair removal by a traditional method known as halawa - though the authorities have now closed it down. As a result, younger women often use the internet to make contact but there is a lot of deception. The 'lesbians' supposedly seeking lovers often turn out to be men and Laila has learned to be careful when arranging meetings. She arrives early and stays some distance from the meeting place, keeping an eye on it to see who turns up. Work is another difficult area for lesbians in the Middle East. It goes almost without saying that any young woman who is not engaged or married will receive amorous attention from her boss. Giving him the brush-off by declaring a preference for women is a non-starter. 'We don't employ lesbians here,' Laila was informed by one boss shortly before she walked out of her job. She had left several other office jobs for similar reasons. Coming out, or being found out, is where the problems really start for many Arab lesbians. 'My mother found out when I was fairly young, around 16 or 17, that I was interested in women, and she wasn't happy about it,' said Sahar, a lesbian from the Lebanese capital, Beirut. Her mother sent her to a psychiatrist - 'a very homophobic therapist who suggested all manner of ridiculous things - shock therapy and so on'. Sahar thought it best to play along with her mother's wishes - and ten years later, she still does. 'I re-closeted myself and started going out with a guy,' she said. 'I'm 26 years old now and I shouldn't have to be doing this but it's just a matter of convenience, really. My mum doesn't mind me having gay male friends but she doesn't like me being with women. I've heard and seen much more extreme reactions. At least I wasn't kicked out of the house.' Violent family reactions are found particularly in the more traditional parts of the region where codes of family 'honour' apply and sexual 'misbehaviour' is thought to bring shame upon the entire household. This can result in brothers killing a sister if, for example, she becomes pregnant before marriage, in order to uphold the family's name. At least two Arab lesbians are currently seeking asylum in the west, fearing they will become victims of an 'honour' killing if they return home. Though lesbian sex in the Middle East is mostly illegal, there is less evidence of official persecution than in the case of gay men. The possibility is still there, though. 'Punishment for lesbianism is one hundred lashes for each party,' the Iranian penal code says. 'If the act of lesbianism is repeated three times and punishment is enforced each time, [a] death sentence will be issued the fourth time.' It adds that if two women who are not blood relations 'stand naked under one cover without necessity', they will be punished with up to 100 lashes. It is not known how many Iranian women have suffered this penalty. While the police in some countries, such as Egypt, have made determined efforts to track down gay men, lesbians seem to be prosecuted mainly if their sexual activity comes to light as a result of other investigations. In 2002 Lebanese police raided the home of a lesbian whose mother had filed a complaint accusing her of stealing the mother's jewellery - and found her with another woman. 'According to judicial sources, the women, who were caught (in the act) confessed to having relations for several years and said they wished to be united in matrimony,' a Beirut newspaper reported. 'The sources said the two also sought to have a test-tube baby together, and affirmed ... that they would join each other once released from jail.' To prevent any further sexual activity while in prison, the public prosecutor gave special instructions to keep them in separate cells. In the heavily male-orientated societies of the Middle East, gay men are viewed as a threat because they undermine popular concepts of masculinity. Passive or effeminate men are particularly despised, since 'behaving like a woman' is regarded as a betrayal of manhood. This may explain why less attention is paid to lesbians, though there are also practical reasons. When police forces are exclusively - or almost exclusively - male, lesbianism is much more difficult to investigate. These attitudes are reflected in modern Arabic novels, where gay men are almost always portrayed negatively. Very few novels feature lesbian characters, and those that do are mostly by feminist writers who portray lesbian sex as a reaction to the inadequacies of men or a temporary alternative to straight sex. In one such story - Menstruation by the Syrian writer Ammar Abdulhamid - a married woman explains her many lesbian affairs with other married women: 'It's because they need a change, you see,' she says. 'Many of their men had the chance to fool around before marriage. But these women have only had the opportunity to do so after marriage.' 'Since men usually brag about their affairs, the women decide it's much safer to fool around with other women. Because even if women talk, and that doesn't happen a lot in this sort of case, men don't usually get the opportunity to listen in on such conversations.' The trouble with this, according to Iman al-Ghafari, of Tishreen university in Syria, is that it turns lesbianism into 'a political choice, a means of escaping relationships as decided and controlled by men,' and fails to recognise that lesbians can exist in their own right. There is a difference, she says, 'between lesbian desire that stems from the body and the one that stems from feminist politics'. Brian Whitaker is Middle East editor of The Guardian. His book, Unspeakable Love: Gay and Lesbian Life in the Middle East, is published by Saqi Books, £14.99. Available from Libertas, www.libertas.co.uk http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1623 Rasperry scrub pedicures, foot rituals and Natalie Wood will work wonders at banishing your stress, says intrepid reporter JACKY FLEMING 'You're stressed. I've got just the thing for you,' says Jo. 'We're going to review a spa.' 'A spa?' I stutter. Jo is an afficionado of beauty treatments and sadistic de-fuzzing. I, on the other hand, am not. 'I can't. I'll look like a yeti.' 'You'll be fine. It's just what you need. It's got a chocolate fountain.' 'Ok, I'll do it.' I shave my yeti legs for the first time since last summer, and the improvement is already dramatic. 'How does it work? Do I take a swimsuit or what?' 'Whatever you prefer. You can swan about naked or-' 'I'll take a swimsuit.' The thought of getting wet anywhere other than a Greek beach appalls me, but I console myself with the thought of smearing myself with chocolate, and decide to have a sneak preview on Waterfall Spa's website. There are lots of images of sophisticated blonde women looking slightly hysterical in the hydrothermic pool, and dozing like a pile of puppies in their identical white bathrobes. It seems to be a Big Girls' Sleepover. Men not allowed. Things are looking up. Signs of my yeti-ness are escaping from my swimsuit but who cares? I got Uma Thurman Nicky shows us round. She's friendly, down to earth, and wears sparkly Eastern flipflops. 'These are the treatment rooms,' - all low-lighting and a choice of music - Mind, Body and Soul, Waterfall, Dolphins, Rainforest, Wildlife, or for those who like to walk on the wild side, Frank Sinatra, Van Morrison, Dean Martin - the choice is yours. The decor's cool and modern, and, we're reliably informed, designed by women for women. Curvy walls are flanked by tall glass vases, each containing a single papyrus stem and a tulip, glass tables with jugs of water or fruit juice. There's nobody else around. It's quiet. The Chainmail Chillout I'd been more than curious about turns out to be a circular bed surrounded by a curtain of metal pearls, Hello! Magazine beckoning from the pile of cushions, a copy of Anna Karenina among the smattering of books to one side - as if. We've both chosen the hour-long deep tension aromatherapy massage, then Jo's opted for the raspberry scrub pedicure, and I'm having the Indian Head Massage and Foot Ritual. The changing room is spotless white-and-glass, and my electronic locker key is called Uma Thurman. Jo's got Natalie Wood. I can tell she's jealous. We put our swimsuits on under our vast white bathrobes - Jo in a turquoise-and-brown mock snakeskin bikini, me in a regulation black one-piece. Telltale signs of my yetiness are escaping from my swimsuit but who cares? I got Uma Thurman. Nicky collects us from the changing room and shows us the restaurant, where the chocolate fountain is being heaved into place behind the bar. It starts to slurp sheets of gooey chocolate and we stand and stare like five-year-olds. It's small. Somehow I'd imagined it was something I could climb into. Two young women appear and lead each of us into our respective treatment rooms. I'm with Catherine, Jo's with Helen. We meet up again in the Chainmail Chillout and crawl onto the circular bed. 'I've been touched by an angel,' Jo murmurs, clearly still off her head. I've forgotten to roll my swimsuit back up, my cynicism and dignity lost somewhere in the treatment room. Jo - well, she needs to get a grip. Lunch is salmon for me, butternut squash for Jo. I'm glad we're not paying; cheap it ain't. 'Would you like some champagne?' a charming linen-clad hostess asks. Aah. Pampering is the order of the day, but you pay for the privilege. The Foot Ritual entails placing my feet in a bowl of petals and pebbles while Helen prepares me for the head massage. I can choose my aromatherapy oils - stimulating or calming. I choose calming - a big mistake for someone who struggles to get up in the morning, but the other oils smell too pungent. I drift off until it' s over, then stagger out to find Jo being raspberry pedicured. 'Looks like you've been trying to scoop up the garden with these,' the young woman says, peering down at Jo's toes. I decide to try out the hydrothermic pool, and when I press the green button one area of the pool errupts into a volcanic geyser. Trying to sit on the appropriate bench isn't easy, and I'm glad nobody's watching. The second area sends out water jets in unexpected places. Very nice. Must tell Jo. As punishment, the third area explodes with water jets so fierce it feels like crowd control, so I wallow about in the calm water instead, wondering if anyone has actually managed to sit under them. Jo does. I can see she's having difficulty breathing. Our day of pampering is over. We struggle with hairdryers meant for people with longer arms. A fairy has left us a plate of strawberries, marshmallows, and a glass of That Chocolate. I dip all my strawberries into it but there's still a lot left. 'Drink it,' says Jo. 'Give over, I say. We leave it. Shame really, as we can't afford to go back. We can keep the slippers, though. I'll have to have my own Big Girl's Sleepover, with a garden hose, chocolate, and champers. I'll invite Nicky, Helen and Catherine, and I won't shave my legs. Oh, and Jo, obviously - if she can grow some Big Girl's body hair. Waterfall Spa 3 Brewery Wharf, Dock Street, Leeds LS10. For prices and treatments, call 0800 731 1995 or visit www.waterfallspa.co.uk. Luxurious, pre-Civil Partnership 'bridal' packages, £75, include: champagne, chocolate fountain with fruit and marshmallows, head and foot massages all day, hydrotherapy pool, aromatherapy tropicarium, dry heat sauna and rasul mud bath, Chainmail Chillout, rest areas and access to bar/ restaurant. Other services start at £35 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1622 Thinking of getting hitched? It could be more expensive than you thought. If you're planning a big do on your special day, GEORGINA TURNER asks, what will you get for your money? There was a time when you could safely navigate the Classifieds without being offered more than a dildo, removal services and cat litter (there're your first three dates sorted), but now the pink pound is being squeezed by an entirely new suitor. And an amorous one she is, too. 'Go on', the ads implore, 'get married! It's now legal to declare your undying love for one another. Let us arrange your special day'. Not that it matters now that we're such ball-breakingly high earners - £6000 over the national average, stats fans - but I'm slightly uninitiated in this whole marriage malarkey. Back when the girly-girls at my school were drawing up a full guest list and menu in time for their 15th birthdays, I was busy hoping the bottle would defy convention and stop spinning between me and Lucy Norman, not the male marriage material next to her. Most of us haven't got a clue how much letting them arrange our special day might actually set us back. 'The sky's the limit for anyone who has grand ideas. We've worked on a wedding with a £1m budget' And it turns out that the reason your dad breathed a heavy sigh of relief when you told him you were a dyke wasn't that he was anticipating a teen pregnancy. It was because weddings can be pretty flippin' expensive. Gino Meriano set up gay wedding planners Pink Weddings four years ago. 'You can get the job done - sign the paperwork and have dinner with a couple of friends - for a few hundred quid,' he says. If it's just the legalities you're worried about, you can give notice of your partnership (£30 each), sign the forms (£40) and get your all-important certificate (£3.50) for just over £100. Gino advises talking to your local authority about their charges for a ceremony, but adding one will usually nudge basic costs towards the £300 mark. 'But we have bookings for later in the year, and into 2007, which are working to a budget of £50-£80,000,' he says. 'The sky really is the limit for anyone who has grand ideas,' adds Siobhan Barron, who runs newly founded Civil Partnership planners Sarabande. 'We've worked on a wedding with a £1m budget.' Ouch! They're the elitists, mind. A more standard spend is about £15,000 - still enough to have you rueing the day you insisted you and the missus take full advantage of your brand-spanking-new legal rights. And don't think you might be able to do it on the cheap up North. 'There isn't really any regional variation in cost,' says Gino. 'Suppliers all around the UK can choose whether or not to charge a lot. You just have to find someone prepared to work to your budget - which you usually can.' For £15,000, you get the lot - even down to little bottles of bubbles for guests to blow affectionately in your and your beloved's direction. The venue is what'll cost you the most - hiring somewhere and getting a good three-course meal down your 50 guests' necks will cost about £6000. 'And if you decide you want to put a marquee in the grounds, your costs will start rising into the tens of thousands,' says Siobhan. Best stick to an inside wedding, eh? Hiring someone to take those all-important photographs isn't cheap, either. The average cost for a do like this is about £1500. Those dapper suits will set you back £1000, the rings you'll search for, panic-stricken, at least ten times in the Limo on the way to the ceremony will cost a further £500 - oh, and the Limo's £200, please. Perhaps it's worth considering whether your bride-to-be will look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle made for two. Flowers come in at a not exactly Elton John-esque £400, but to really wow today's wedding crowd, you'll probably need a chocolate fountain (£500), fireworks (£1500) and some exploding balloons (£200) for good measure. Even your bog-standard evening buffet and disco will total £1000, and that's before your Uncle John puts his hip out dancing to The Locomotion. Nor is the stationery cheap. Invites, place names and Order of the Day cards add up to £300, plus there's the £70 album for all your guests to scribble about what a fabulous couple you make. And the cake - don't forget the cake! The £350 price tag might make it taste a little bitter to whoever's footing the bill, but just try and remember that lovely honeymoon you'll soon be heading off on. Unless, of course, you're forking out for that too. According to gay travel company Sunvil, we gay girls like the Caribbean and it doesn't come cheap at £2000 each. However, having spent umpteen years bemoaning our lack of opportunity to marry, it may just be time to bite the bullet. Especially as the boys are beating us down the aisle by a ratio of 60:40 - and they're spending more money while they're at it, the flash gits. And if you do find £15,000 down the back of the sofa, it sounds like you can be sure of getting exactly the day you envisage. 'Our service is completely tailor-made,' Gino says. 'We can organise everything, right down to the last flower. You name it, you've got it.' Unicycling flame-throwers it is, then. Most popular venues Quendon Hall, Essex. 'Extremely popular'. 01799 543 800. www.quendonpark.co.uk. enquiries@quendonpark.co.uk Cannizaro House, Wimbledon. 'Really on the up' 0870 333 9124. www.cannizarohouse.com. info@cannizarohouse.com The Matara Centre, Cotswolds, Gloucs. 'Fantastic venue, all about mind, body and spirit'. 01453 861 050. www.matara.co.uk. info@matara.co.uk Guthrie Castle, Scotland. 'Lovely, very popular'. 01241 828 691. www.guthriecastle.com. mrd@guthriecastle.com Yaxley Hall, Suffolk. 'Gay-owned, absolutely fab'. 01379 788 869. www.yaxleyhall.com. enquiries@yaxleyhall.net Great Tythe Barn, Cotswolds, Gloucs. "Amazingly popular venue". 01666 502 475. www.gtb.co.uk. sales@gtb.co.uk Girls v boys Out of 3648 Civil Partnerships registered in December and January, 2510 were male couples, 1138 were female. Before Civil Partnerships came in, the ratio was 80:20 in favour of lesbians wanting more full commitment. Since the legislation, the ratio has switched to 60:40 in favour of gay men. They tend to be older couples, and spend more than lesbian couples. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1615 What makes a married woman risk everything for a Sapphic affair, or a housemistress drive miles to be with her ex-student lover? JOANNA BRISCOE uncovers the devastating power of secret passion. A secret affair: could there be more alluring words? The very idea of romantic intrigue is enough to capture the imagination before the juicy details are even touched upon. We're talking the joy of illicit sex. Sapphic history is, of course, littered with secret affairs. By consigning lesbianism to its murkier margins, society has inadvertently added its own contribution to the experience, spicing it up with the thrill of danger. We humans are such primitive creatures at heart, or groin, that anything forbidden or simply out-and-out naughty appeals to our most regressive and rebellious instincts. Secret affairs don't need to be tawdry, extra-curricular events. No-one's advocating the pain and betrayal that on-the-side entanglements almost inevitably cause to long-term committed relationships. But most of us have a secret something in our portfolio, be it an entirely unsuitable liaison with an older woman or a relationship that remained firmly and intensely in the closet. My first affair - with my mother's friend - remained secret for a long time because she was considerably older, had a daughter, an ex-husband and an on-off girlfriend, while I was an over-sensitive 18-year-old stunned into secrecy by the force of my sudden Sapphic passion. However, I wasn't quite as precocious as a couple of women I know, one of whom had an ongoing, fully sexual affair with a friend at school from the age of 15. The other, Clara (a pseudonym for a writer who now lives with a woman), fell in love with a teacher when she was 16. 'I moved to a mixed school for the sixth form, partly because I was trying to cure myself of the alarming crushes I'd had already on girls. But I was put in a girls' house for sleeping and quickly developed this enormous crush on the housemistress, who was also my history teacher. I was obsessed with her and was endlessly trying to bump into her outside the science labs near our house. Older boys had crushes on her as well - she was a connoisseurs' choice. I had this desperate crush, but she showed absolutely no interest at all. 'When I left school I had my first relationship with a girl, and I thought I was completely over Miss B. Then she wrote to me, saying she was coming to Bristol and did I want to see her? By then it didn't occur to me that anything could possibly happen with her, but we went to Pizza Express and our conversation got more and more flirty and then more and more sexual. I was completely turned on. On the one hand I really didn't want to cheat on my girlfriend, but on the other hand it was incredibly exciting that my idol was actually interested in me. We went for a drive in the country and as soon as we saw a bit of grass we were snogging in the car. And then we started on this weird thing where basically every three or four weeks she'd drive down to Bristol and would stay in a hotel and we'd have torrid, exciting weekends. We went for a drive in the country and as soon as we saw a bit of grass we were snogging in the car. 'It was secret, all about sex, and completely taboo, since a year before I'd still been her student. I found that incredibly sexy! My girlfriend chucked me, but by then I was deeply involved in this unsuitable thing and felt as though I was living a double life. My family didn't even know I was a lesbian. I tried to invent a boyfriend, but it was unconvincing. She was totally in the closet because of her job, and there were a few people who'd been at our school in Kent who were also at college in Bristol, so we were scared of being seen together. It was completely addictively exciting, but eventually I moved past the stage of finding the secrecy exciting for its own sake and started furtively going to awful lezzie nights to try to wean myself off her. I managed after much soul-searching, but I think it started up a pattern in my mind. Recently I've had my eye on someone quite high up at my agent's! I often wonder, now I'm older, what on earth she was doing, but in a way it was the most exciting time in my life.' On the other side of the school gate, Tally, a part-time university administrator with three children, used to collect her two older girls from their primary school every day. 'I really thought I was fairly happily married at the time,' she says. 'There were no fireworks, but we rubbed along pretty contentedly, I'd say. Then bang - I literally fell in love with another woman at the school gate. 'We became fast friends as soon as we met - we were childish, having a real laugh and a mess-around, ringing each other, laughing and screaming about silly things. There was just something about her. She was gorgeous. One day I woke up and began to think about her as usual, and I thought, "I love you". It was like that. I thought about her slim, gorgeous body, her little denim jackets, her naughty brown eyes and her laugh. I thought, "I want to be your friend forever". And I felt kind of protective. It sounds weird, but I felt towards her like I thought a man might. 'I started feeling all blushy and self-aware - I kind of lost my way with her. She became less friendly, and we were suddenly both awkward for a while, almost avoiding each other. It made me cry. Then one night she rang me and we arranged to go out after our kids were in bed, and when we said goodbye we suddenly wrapped our arms around each other, and I remember pressing my face into her neck - the smell of her. We started to kiss. It's not a big town, but we kissed right under this big tree. Amazing! I've never, ever forgotten any detail of it. I barely slept that night. I'd not ever in my life felt so excited, nor so worried. 'We had an affair for over three years, and I adored her. No-one knew. It was completely, completely secret. It was only after our kids left the school and it was well over that I told a few mates because I felt like I was going crazy. Neither of our husbands ever found out. We'd just meet in the day - I cut my work hours, threw sickies, met her in the lunch time. We were sneaking around, driving out of town. 'In the end, she stayed with her husband, but I left mine. I'm living on my own with the kids, but I know that if - when - I have another relationship, it'll be with a woman. I can't see her any more. Our kids are at different schools now and I try to steer clear of her, but I still think about her every single night - I adore her, or I would if she'd let me.' Dangerous liaisons in film and literature are a source of both the best comic, flirting-with-disaster moments and the most throbbing passions. From Joanna Trollope's A Village Affair to the film Kissing Jessica Stein, from Henry James' The Bostonians to Sarah Waters' The Night Watch. There are the delicious youthful desires described in Violette Leduc's La Batarde, the secret affair with an older woman in Patricia Highsmith's Carol, and the sexual initiation of a younger girl by an older in The Getting of Wisdom. In my novel Sleep with Me, both protagonists are entirely unaware of the affair the other is involved in, and subterfuge and intense obsessional love make them behave extremely, but excitingly, badly. The heroine, Lelia, is prepared to jeopardise her entire relationship for the sake of secret love. It's the need to keep certain relationships clandestine that pushes them almost to boiling point. As sociologist Margaret Russell says; 'I suspect that because lesbians and gay men have traditionally suffered a certain level of enforced secrecy, this is something that slips into the fabric of gay life more easily. More intriguingly, there's a whole history of gay love we'll never know about'. As Mary, a formerly married mother of one, says of the younger lesbian friend whose advances she was withstanding: 'I started feeling excited about her in secret and thinking about her all the time and missing her. It seemed like the greatest taboo, but then one day we came home to my house and I just knew something was going to happen - I didn't know what, and I was still resisting it, but I had this kind of nervous, excited feeling in my stomach. And it was a really hot day and I wanted a shower, and it was just so natural - she just came in and had a shower with me. And then we were kissing...' Sleep With Me by Joanna Briscoe, Bloomsbury (p/back, £7.99) on June 5th http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1614 Diversity awareness among healthcare staff in the UK is in a bad way, it would seem. Can the new Goods & amp; Services legislation give it a much-needed care transfusion? ERICA ROBERTS reports Seventeen percent of DIVA readers have experienced homophobia when receiving treatment from their GP or hospital. That's the finding of an online poll carried out throughout April of this year. These disturbing results reveal that British lesbian tax-payers aren't always receiving equal treatment in publicly funded health service provision - and this is a fact borne out by recent research conducted by campaigning organisation Stonewall. Alan Wardle, Stonewall's director of parliamentary and public affairs, explained: 'People think of discriminatory practices in the provision of goods and services as being refused service at hotels and B& Bs, and so on. But we did some research and found that discrimination also extended into publicly funded services, like healthcare.' The homophobia uncovered in the research took many forms. One of the more extreme incidents happened to Sarah, who attended an appointment at a minor hand surgery unit to have nerves reattached on her left hand. The head surgeon and an assistant were in theatre treating her, when a report came on the radio about the Civil Partnership of Elton John. The assistant wondered aloud who would be wearing the frock. The two practitioners then conducted a ten-minute conversation in which they mocked gay marriage, suggesting it was disgusting that gay people could now adopt children. Understandably, Sarah felt unable to object to the views expressed, as she was in the middle of having her hand stitched up. This incident represents the extreme end of inadequate health practice, but there's a rather more common example, and it's one that carries potentially serious consequences. The Department of Health (DH) recommends that women between the ages of 20 and 64 have routine cervical smears every three to five years as part of the NHS Screening Programme, yet some lesbians in the Stonewall and DIVA surveys reported they were questioned by their health provider about their need for a smear, actively discouraged from having one, or refused one. Mary moved to a new area and registered with her local GP. She was asked if she was having regular sex, and when she said yes, she was asked whether she'd like to take the pill as a form of contraception. But when Mary explained that she was a lesbian and didn't need the pill, the GP said that there was no need for her to have a cervical smear test. It had been over three years since Mary's last smear, and she was keen to have one done, especially as she was a smoker. Her GP insisted that it wasn't necessary and didn't book her an appointment. Annabelle had a similar experience when she presented for her smear test. 'I'd just signed up with a new doctor in Manchester. I'd never had a smear test - I was 27 - but asked if I could have one. The doctor went through all the usual questions about birth control, assuming I was heterosexual. When I came out to her, she wouldn't give me a smear test. She argued with me for ages, but eventually, because I stood my ground, she gave me one. She never asked me if I'd ever slept with men before. She presumed that I'd always been a dyke, and that I therefore wouldn't be at risk from cervical abnormalities.' The two practitioners then conducted a ten-minute conversation in which they mocked gay marriage, suggesting it was disgusting that gay people could now adopt children. Statistics show that a woman's risk of cervical cancer is cut by 84% if she has a smear test every five years, and 91% if she has a smear every three years. It's estimated that NHS cervical screening saves more than 1000 lives each year. Why aren't lesbians being treated equally in this area of health provision? The notion that it isn't necessary for lesbians to undergo cervical screening comes from two misconceptions: that women who identify as lesbians have never had sex with a man, and that women who've never had penetrative sex with a man aren't at risk of cervical cancer. And yet data collected from the Audre Lorde and Bernhard sexual health clinics for lesbians show that 10% of lesbians had smear abnormalities; 81% of lesbians had had penetrative sex with a man, and 10.9% of this group had smear abnormalities; and 5% of the lesbians who had never had penetrative straight sex had cervical abnormality. A British Medical Journal editorial published in 2003 had this to say: 'An unfortunate perception exists among healthcare providers and women who have sex with women that they don't need regular cervical smears... sexual intercourse with men is a powerful risk factor for cervical cancer. However, it's important to counter the erroneous assumption that women who have sex with women aren't at risk of catching human papillomavirus. Around one in five women who've never had heterosexual intercourse have human papillomavirus which is associated with developing high-grade cervical intraepithelial neoplasia' - in other words abnormal cervical tissue development. But this isn't just a problem confined to public healthcare provision. Following a series of uncomfortable experiences of coming out to various GPs, Sally, 48, decided to go to a BUPA clinic for a general health check, part of which included a smear test. 'My partner did the same, chose a male doctor, and was very happy with the treatment she received. But I chose a female doctor, and she questioned my need for a smear test, despite the fact that I'd paid for it, and that I'd had pre-cancerous test results in my 20s. I tried to unpack what that meant, wondering if I was just wasting her time, wondering if she just didn't want to do the smear on me because she felt uncomfortable with my sexuality. I didn't want to complain - I was worried about that going down on my medical records, and it compromising any future treatment I might receive.' DIVA asked BUPA whether it operated a policy on offering smear tests to lesbians that differs from the treatment procedure for heterosexual women in their clinics. A spokesman replied, 'BUPA treats lesbian women exactly the same as heterosexual women. It's required that staff ensure everyone having a smear test is aware of the reason for the test, the benefits of the test, and what the test might mean to them.' He assured DIVA that 'diversity training is compulsory for all employed staff, and available for all self-employed staff. It's also included in the employment contract they hold with BUPA.' When he was asked about Sally's case, he replied: 'Without the name of the doctor in this case study, it's unfortunately not possible to comment on what she experienced.' DIVA contacted the Royal College of General Practitioners and the Royal College of Physicians to find out exactly what's currently in the curriculum to educate prospective health practitioners about the specific needs of lesbians. However, nobody from either organisation was available for comment at the time of going to press. Alan Wardle said: 'In the health service, not enough training is given around diversity issues. Sensitivity to the gender of the patient's partner is only one aspect. There needs to be recognition of the specific health needs of our communities, because at the moment there seems to be a very limited understanding.' But change is afoot. Stonewall has recently campaigned successfully to amend the Equality Bill so that lesbian and gay people will have protection in the provision of goods and services - including healthcare services. The new regulations are due to come into force in October this year. The Department of Health (DH) is currently preparing for the changes. A spokesperson said that some of the recent measures taken included alerting 'all NHS and Council chief executives and directors of social services that the Department of Trade and Industry has published a consultation paper called Getting Equal: Proposals to Outlaw Sexual Orientation Discrimination in the Provision of Good and Services, and that this will have implications for the provision of health services. We are also consulting across DH policy teams on the implications.' Additionally, the DH is looking at how LGB patients are monitored, how homophobia is reported, and its reviewing literature on UK health inequalities. The DH spokesperson added: 'Evidence clearly points to sexual orientation and gender identity being significant factors contributing to health inequalities and poor experience of health services. All health services need to take concerted action to address these issues on all fronts.' Stonewall will keep a close watch on how well the new laws will work. Alan Wardle assured DIVA; 'In October, the legislative imperative will enforce behavioural change. We'll be keeping an eye on how the legislation operates in practice, and we'll be prepared to bring test cases to ensure that the law is enforced.' Some names have been changed to preserve confidentiality. For more information, visit www.stonewall.org.uk http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1613 They're back, and they're lezbelicious. MEL STEEL reports on the growing lady-loving sex party scene Hands up everyone who's been to a lesbian sex party. Keep 'em still while I count. That's a few more than I'd expected, but still not many of you, considering we're one of the few minority communities to be defined entirely by our sexual preferences. Ok, hands up everyone who's ever fantasised about going to a lesbian sex party. Aha. There you are. Right then; pay attention, dreamers. This may be of some interest. Sex parties, play parties, call them what you will - they're back, they're busy, and they're lezbelicious. For years it seemed like it was the straight swingers and the gay backroom boys who got to enjoy all the fetish fun and sauna sleaze, while we lady-lovers just got to be really good at pool and salsa dancing. Throughout the 90s, while stories about the fabulous sex-positive dyke scenes in San Francisco and New York filtered back across the Atlantic, with the exception of a very small scene of urban sex sophisticates, we Brits tried but mostly failed to live up to the expectations of our own sexual fantasies. Even when the odd enlightened lesbian entrepreneur made a stab at opening a club with a cruisy vibe and the promise of hot girl-on-girl action, it felt like more of us were up for standing around a bit awkwardly in our stiff leathers rather than actually getting on with getting it on. 'J' has been to just three parties in the UK over the last 18 years. Now 38, she's a femme with plenty of curiosity but limited experience of playing in public - largely because her first experiences were less than inspiring. The first time she went to a club, full of anticipation: 'It was horrible. It was a downstairs room in a pub, which was cold, dirty and concrete, and it smelled of wee. There was a sling, and I think there might have been a cross on the wall, but there was no-one down there. All the dykes were upstairs in the bar in their leather chaps, wandering about a bit self-consciously and not really looking at each other.' Somewhat disillusioned, even after a slightly less grim second outing, J says she'd reached a conclusion; 'Maybe we just weren't very good at this. Maybe the Americans could do it, but for some reason we couldn't. Or maybe there was lots of play happening in private or at parties I just didn't know about and wasn't invited to.' Indeed. Who knows? I wasn't invited to them either, although I certainly fantasised plenty about what might happen if (heaven forfend) I were. But fast-forward to 2006, and there are no more excuses for not finding out. Lash for Lasses in Manchester, Klub Fukk in London, Steamy in Brighton, and now Purrr - a girl might suddenly find herself quite overwhelmed with possibilities. For years it seemed like it was the straight swingers and the gay backroom boys who got to enjoy all the fetish fun and sauna sleaze, while we just got to be really good at pool and salsa dancing. So where to go? And what happens when you get there? Well, it really depends what's your cup of tea. First of all, let's get some things straight. In the eyes of the law, and certainly as far as licensed premises go, there's no such thing as a sex party or sex club. Sex in public is against the law - although you can do what you like (up to a point) in the confines of your own or someone else's home, or in a private members' club. Technically, and somewhat bizarrely, this means that although it's perfectly legal to get spanked or flogged in public while strapped to a cross, if you want sex afterwards you'll have to go home to do it. So the public clubs and parties we're talking about here aren't sex clubs per se. What they offer is fetish-play in a sexy play space - and a host of ways to indulge your imagination and creativity with like-minded women. Rosie Lugosi is the organiser of Lash for Lasses in Manchester. Advertised as a fetish SM club for adventurous women, it's been running for six years now, although it's had to change venue several times in order to survive. 'It's hard running a women's fetish night,' says Rosie. 'It's hard finding a venue. One place we were in closed down, another caught fire, and in another we were asked to leave after just one night. We don't make money - in fact we lose on it, and subsidise it from our mixed nights. We do it out of love!' Despite the fetish SM label, the club appeals to a wide range of women. 'I'd say about 50% are hardcore BDSM dykes and about 50% are Goths, performers, exhibitionists and people who just like getting dressed up,' says Rosie. 'It's a very safe, inventive and creative space. We try not to be up our own arses. We're open to all ages, sizes, body shapes, colours and abilities. We've had women come dressed up as evil rabbits and as fairies of the dawn! We get lots of newbies, and make sure they get looked after by our dungeon mistresses.' Klub Fukk in London is a more recent venture with a slightly different vibe. Organiser Ingo, who's also behind the hugely successful Club Wotever, set up the space in the London gay men's bar Central Station in October 2004 'to have a queer play space where people could cruise and flirt and weren't scared of sex, and where it wasn't just all about what you wore. There's no control here over your sex/ gender/ sexuality, and there's no dress code: you can wear whatever you feel comfortable in. I don't like leather - but I really like sports gear.' Fukk has an open mixed policy, but is run by and mainly for women and trans/ intersex people. 'It's very polysexual,' says Ingo, who identifies him/ herself (she likes to use both) as transgendered queer. 'I'd say it's important not to have any preconceptions about what to expect between someone's legs when you approach them. Basically, what happens here is very much up to the people involved: it's kind of DIY but with respect, humour, playfulness and lots of talking. People say they feel very safe and welcome. It's very friendly. It's also clean and warm, and it smells nice!' The latest addition to the scene, Purrr, is a newly-launched women-only fetish club in North London run by the splendidly-named Mistress Vamp, an experienced, welcoming party hostess and dom, who's also a mean cook (she knows how to throw a party, girls, and makes those chocolate truffles herself). She says that after years of playing on the straight and mixed scene she wanted a space where women could feel comfortable enough to play and explore without having to worry about being interrupted by men. And judging by the reaction to the launch party in March, she's succeeded. Purrr has certainly restored J's faith in her fantasies. 'It's the first time my expectations about what a party could be like have been fulfilled,' she says. 'I went on my own, and had the most amazing time. It was much nicer, dirtier, sexier and much more friendly than I expected. There were some very powerful scenes I felt privileged to watch, and there was lots of fun stuff happening too. There were leather butches, girls in fantastic lingerie, and a fetish Alice in Wonderland. There was a huge variety of body types. The chocolates were just gorgeous. I didn't really expect to play - but I did!' How to organise your own sex party Create an atmosphere: use lighting and music. Make sure the space is clean and comfortable. Have somewhere for people to get changed. Have hostesses to show people around and explain the rules and equipment. Follow a clear etiquette: don't interrupt when other people are playing, don't touch other people's toys or equipment, don't try to play with someone else if you haven't been invited to, and don't let people play under the influence of drink or drugs. You can't consent if you're not sober. Organise a sexy performance, like a striptease. Play porn flicks or have some sexy mags and pics around the place. Make sure there's plenty of lube, condoms, gloves etc. Have more experienced players there early to act as social butterflies and get the play started. Have some nibbles available for when the energy dips. Use the internet (websites & amp; message boards) to reassure nervous newcomers, get advice from more experienced players, or meet up to plan scenes or outfits in advance. After a party: check in with the person or people you've played with to make sure they're ok. Make sure everyone is over 16 years old Be creative, be safe and have fun. Lash For Lasses www.clublash.com Info: 07947 460726 Three times a year; next party May 28th The Tunnel, 6 Whitworth St, Manchester M1 Klub Fukk Email for info: klubfukk@hotmail.com Every 2nd Friday of month Central Station, 37 Wharfdale Road, King's Cross, London N1 Purrr www.purrr.co.uk Email: info@purrr.co.uk Every last Friday of month except May The Fortress, 87 Fortress Road, London NW5 Steamy! Occasional women's all-night sauna Email for info: steamybrighton@yahoo.co.uk The Amsterdam Hotel, 11-12 Marine Parade, Brighton BN2 SM Dykes Manchester (regular meets and play parties) www.smdykes.org.uk Email: smdykes@smdykes.org.uk phone/text: 07952 237526 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1593 Marriage: a mercenary exercise or madly romantic? Donna McPhail gets ready for her big day - is that a sofa-shaped prezzie? I can't believe I'm still waiting for my first wedding invite. Three months since gay marriage was made legal, and it's seems nobody I know has any intention of getting civilised. Like the minute we're allowed to do something, we're not that bothered any more. How typically gay is that? 'What do we want? We don't know! When do we want it? Now!!' I'd go for it myself, but I'm waiting to see how it pans out divorce-wise. There's a time and place for taking a huge leap of faith, and as far as I'm concerned that time comes shortly after watching other people taking it, looking over the edge at their bloody, broken torsos, and then taking the stairs. Not that the big day won't happen at some point, but having discussed the subject at length (Memoirs of a Geisha really wasn't worth the admission fee), the missus and I came to the conclusion that we shouldn't enter into marriage just because we can. The sensible thing would be to wait until the time is right, like when we move house and need stuff that we don't want to pay for. That doesn't sound very romantic, but I did try: 'Let's get hitched so that when you die I get all your money and shit'. I got the - not ring - finger. 'What do we want? We don't know! When do we want it? Now!!' How gay is that? I'm not materialistic, but a wedding is a ridiculously expensive affair, and it's only the vain hope that friends and family will see you right in the gift department that stops people calling the whole thing off, I'm sure. Traditionally, of course, the bride's father pays for the nuptials and the mother provides the 'trousseau' - some kind of bottom drawer full of linen tablecloths and antimacassars and other totally useless crap that you have no need for in the real world. (Which is why guests first started to buy wedding gifts way back when; it's a well-known fact that you can't make toast from a set of napkin rings). Believe it or not, my mother started a wedding chest for me when I was a little girl. When eventually it dawned on her that my tomboy phase was more of a lifestyle choice, she gave up and started spending the money on gin. Seemingly this isn't an uncommon experience. According to Lifestyle Extra UK, lesbians are on average asking for a whopping 83 presents on their wedding day, so they're obviously getting bog all from the old folk apart from an ASBO. Eighty-three presents seemed a bit greedy to me until I looked into what they were asking for, and then I just felt embarrassed. Records from the John Lewis department store (never knowingly under-rated) show that high up on the lesbian wish list is the heart-shaped oven glove, the sponge mop and the toilet brush. I kid you not. Okay, there's nothing much wrong with the heart-shaped oven glove, although it does indicate the worst case of lesbian bed-death I've ever heard of - but the cleaning utensils? My God, these aren't exactly items you've always dreamed of having but have never found the excuse to buy, are they? What kind of filthy stink-hole do these mingers live in if they haven't got them already? Are they nurses? I have a mental image of this Mrs & amp; Mrs forming in my head, and they're making me gip. Next on their list is a bokhara rug, apparently - whatever that is. It's probably one big enough to cover up some smelly puke stain they've got on the seat of their sofa. Body-fat scales are in the mix as well, because sitting around on their lazy arses doing no cleaning would give them quite an appetite, I'm sure. And a Champagne cooler is popular - which sounds sophisticated, but it's probably put by the side of the bed in case they get caught short in the night. Yuk, they deserve each other. I'm not sure we'll bother with a wedding list when we get hitched, actually; there's something about all these posh department stores cashing in on the pink pound that gets my back up. Like if they saw a gay couple kissing in the Kitchen Department, they wouldn't have them thrown out quicker than you could say 'That oven glove would plug the gap in our love life'? I think instead we'll go down the more traditional road of getting guests to pin money on the brides' dress. This'll also settle the argument over who wears the dress in the first place. If we want that sofa we've set our hearts on, she'll wear it - she's taller and wider than me so there'll be more material to pin money to. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1592 DIVA checks out a hotel off the south coast of Devon where pampering meets 1930s chic in a setting straight out of an Hercule Poirot murder-mystery You could just picture Marlene Dietrich gliding down the staircase at Burgh Island Hotel. pouting, brandishing her cigarette holder and, depending on her mood, wearing a slinky gown or spruce black tuxedo. The staircase, flanked by etched black glass, ascends to the hotel ballroom. Here, with its grand piano and murals of 1930s party scenes, the stage is set for twice-weekly dinner-dances to the tunes of the time. At the microphone is singer Steve Chisholm whose act, as co-owner Deborah Clark puts it, is 'pure Noël Coward'. Chisholm croons his way through 1930s' hits, and starry-eyed couples - same-sex partners are welcome too - waltz around the dancefloor in tuxes and cocktail frocks. It's de rigueur to dress for dinner, and amid sparkling Champagne and tinkling piano ditties you want to look the part. Pre-dinner cocktails are a must, too, mixed in the glass-domed Palm Court by twinkly-eyed barman Gary 'McBar' Maguire. There's a staircase where you could just picture Marlene Dietrich, brandishing a cigarette holder and, depending on her mood, wearing a slinky gown or spruce black tuxedo The entire hotel is a feast of 1930s gorgeousness. Its ocean-liner architecture, decor and furniture are original English Modernism or period reproduction. Every fixture and fitting, down to the recumbent chrome mermaids in Gary's bar, is part of a detailed big picture. It adds up to such an eyeful of glamour that you could imagine characters from Agatha Christie acting out their murder mysteries right here. And you'd almost be right. The TV series Poirot has been filmed here, and Dame Agatha herself took up residence in the island's Beach House and penned Evil Under The Sun and And Then There Were None there. In fact, Deborah suspects it may be the Agatha Christie connection that's earned her hotel an apparent following among lesbian tourists from Japan. 'There's absolutely no evidence to this at all,' she says, 'but I've always sneakily felt that Mrs Christie was a bit of a swinger. In any event, there's a "lost week" episode when she disappeared, rumour had it, with a female friend - and frankly there must have been a bit of a spark about her. 'The Japanese have an unerring way of seeking out oblique facts in life and I suspect this may account for the interest we've had. And the majority of our oriental tourists have been feisty women - it can't just be that they were taught English by reading Agatha Christie at school, can it?' Deborah sounds keen to attract a gay clientele, and says she's had several bookings for ceremonies since the advent of same-sex Civil Partnerships. Regarding lesbian visitors, she seems excited by the prospect of Burgh Island gaining a similar reputation to that of Sissinghurst Castle in Kent, where Vita Sackville-West lived and had an affair with Virginia Woolf and a long-term relationship with Violet Trefusis. Deborah and her husband Tony Orchard bought Burgh Island Hotel in 2001. Long before that, it had plenty of its own stylish, scandalous guests in the period between the World Wars. Marlene Dietrich wasn't one of them, in case you're wondering, but Noël Coward spent three weeks here and, according to the brochure, wrote 'some of his most lovely songs over cocktails and winks at the waiters'. Edward VIII brought Wallis Simpson for a getaway, only to find his aide, Edward 'Fruity' Metcalfe, staying here. Among its other illustrious guests, the hotel counts Coward's friend and muse Gertrude Lawrence and aviator Amy Johnson, who stopped off en route to open Plymouth Airport in 1932. These names now grace the hotel suites. Every room but one is a suite, and each is different from its 22 neighbours. Although their period furniture may be lived-in and a little mismatched, their 1930s-style bathrooms are a delicious composition of bevelled edges, high-falutin' mirrors, big pipes and shiny tiles. In-keeping with the spirit of the 1930s, there's nothing so tastelessly modern as a mini-bar or TV, nor can you get a reliable mobile phone signal here - although the Bakelite telephones sitting at every bedside are fully operational. That's not to say the suites lack luxury. For all the painstaking retro detail, the aim is to 'echo the feeling of those times, not replicate it,' says Tony. The hotel's more luxurious than it was back then. It also has a sauna, and offers such treatments as aromatherapy, Japanese facial massage and pedicure. With all these selling points, the hotel could skirt over food quality. Instead, chef Conor Heneghan serves up a menu based on locally caught fish and seafood, fresh seasonal vegetables, locally sourced whenever possible, and organically reared meat. The hotel's restoration has cost Deborah and Tony £1million. Before they took over, and since it was built in 1929, it had passed from owner to owner and there were long periods between proprietors when it stood vacant and neglected - for at least 16 out of those 72 years it was derelict. Burgh Island's attractions aren't limited to just its indoor pleasures. It's in a unique location: an island connected to the mainland of South Devon by only a causeway of sand that's washed over twice a day by the tide. At low tide, you can walk across the beach to the rocky island, but after high tide the island is cut off, and the only way over is on the hotel's sea tractor, a Heath Robinson-type contraption that carries its passengers through the water on elevated wheels. The island itself is barely half a mile long, so you can walk round it in half an hour and still have time to enjoy its sea-lashed rocks, caves and windswept hillsides carpeted in wild flowers. For outdoor bathing, there's the Mermaid Pool, an inlet of seawater enclosed by the surrounding cliffs, which you reach by a cliffside path that descends from the garden. But perhaps the hotel's greatest allure is its atmosphere. Deborah has ruled out murder-mystery parties, but with its island location, dressing-up ethos and history, you can understand why certain Japanese ladies believe Burgh Island is the perfect place for some decadent naughtiness. Burgh Island Hotel Bigbury-on-Sea, South Devon, TQ7 4BG. Tel: 0044 (0)1548 810514 Email: reception@burghisland.com Web: www.burghisland.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1575 VAL LEE finds out what makes a lesbian 'hood, and discovers why our arrival may herald an urban revival 'If they must snog, why don't they snog at home? This is a bread shop not a-' 'Snoggery?' I suggest to my shopping companion. 'Exactly.' My old friend Mary and I are in a queue outside a local delicatessen. I can smell cumin and garlic, my very favourite smells. The window's crammed with organic products; pasta, wine, jars of stuffed olives and vine leaves, Green & amp; Black's chocolate. The queue's no ordinary queue, either. It's shabbily fashionable, and the snoggers are women. By the time we arrive at the counter, the focaccia bread's sold out and we settle for humus and frisée lettuce in a walnut bap. 'We could almost be in Fresh and Wild on Stoke Newington Church Street,' I say, nodding to the snoggers who've now unglued their faces. 'Well, we're not,' Mary retorts. But we could be - only there are noisy sea gulls flying overhead, virtually no traffic and suddenly on the far side of the Crazy Golf we're looking at the sea, which glitters like Lurex cloth. This is Hastings, the new lesbian hot spot and the inspiration behind my latest novel, Diary of a Provincial Lesbian. Since Hastings' major regeneration in 2003, the town, best known for day-trippers and fish and chip suppers has drawn lesbians like a Sapphic magnet to its gentle shores and undulating surroundings. Lesbians like Maggie and her partner, Lizzie. Maggie is chair of Hastings Rainbow Alliance, formed in April 2004, coinciding with much of the town's recent redevelopment. Maggie has lived in and around the town for most of her life, apart from a period when she and Lizzie were in Brighton. Maggie tells me; 'When we moved back to Hastings nine years ago there was no visible lesbian scene at all. Now there are plenty of gay-owned or gay-friendly places like Gritti Palace on the pier and Cave Moon where you can hold an event or just meet friends. The community's really expanded.' She tells me that when Civil Partnerships recently became legal, over 70 couples immediately signed up for it and that there are over 300 members in the Alliance - and the number continues to grow. There's also an HRA Newsletter with articles on a variety of topics, including diversity matters, LGBT Acoustic Night and the Supper Club. All of which might sound small beer to those living in cities but the difference is that I can walk to most of the Hastings events. From my house halfway up the West Hill, I can be in the centre of town within five minutes. In ten minutes I'll have reached the ultra-modern Hastings Railway Station, with trains running every half hour into London Bridge, Waterloo, Charing Cross or Victoria. Or I can get a train along the coast to Brighton, another of the UK's burgeoning lesbian enclaves. This is Hastings, the new lesbian hot spot Maggie Fleming left her native Belfast for Brighton in 1981 aged 29. 'As a daughter living with a very conventional family, the only way out seemed to be through marriage or going to university. I chose the latter and opted for Brighton, knowing it had a large gay community. Almost from the beginning I felt at home.' She admits that the city can be cliquish and thinks newcomers need to make an effort to fit in. At uni she joined a lesbian group, which formed the nucleus of her first friends and relationships. Maggie is a director of ISIS Financial Planners. She feels that often lesbians are forced, for financial reasons, to cluster on the outskirts of the places we think we really want to live, and so new communities spring up. She says, 'In the 80s, many women like myself moved to Brighton. At that time two people on reasonable salaries could afford a nice house, but now that prices have increased, communities are springing up in nearby Worthing and Portslade.' This phenomenon is replicated in London where neighbourhoods bordering on 'desirable districts' have been annexed; Walthamstow for those hankering after Stoke Newington, Brixton for Clapham, Finsbury Park for Crouch End. In 2001, a Mori poll commissioned by Stonewall suggested that when people from a variety of backgrounds start to live together in an area it creates more harmony, and there's less likelihood of prejudice. The downside is that as these areas become safer and friendlier, wealthy buyers are attracted to both domestic and business property, effectively pushing up prices. Twenty years ago, at the age of 33, the aforementioned Mary, (signwriter and artist responsible for painting the last two Gay's The Word fascias), moved to Stoke Newington in hot pursuit of a bio-blonde, adult education tutor she'd met at a women-only evening class. Her move in 1986 coincided with a dramatic slump in the housing market, enabling her to purchase a large garden flat. Sadly, after an incident with hot wax, which Mary insists was no more than a straightforward depilation treatment that went horribly wrong; the tutor left both her and Stokey for the bright lights of Walthamstow. Despite this Sapphic setback, Mary stayed on in Stoke Newington for a further 18 years. She explains; 'I liked the presence of a fairly bohemian lesbian community and places to meet within walking distance or a bus ride. There was the Duke of Wellington pub on the Balls Pond Road where we played pool, and the Clarence off Essex Road where we - played pool. The owners' dogs were a bit smelly at the Clarence but that added to the atmosphere... especially if you liked dogs.' Since then pubs have been replaced by clubs and bars - hey presto! Stokey is now one of London's highly des res areas for professional couples and young families, with house prices for a decent one-bed period conversion often nudging the £250,000 mark. Emma Basden, owner of Pink Management, recommends other London hotspots, Docklands and Stepney to the east and Harlesden and Willesden in the west. She says, 'Invariably when gay guys and lesbians move into an area, restaurants, bars and shops follow. Places where you can feel comfortable snogging or holding hands with your girlfriend.' She feels that lesbians now have equal buying power to gay men. 'We can afford to express our tastes in every aspect of our lives.' In recent years, Hebden Bridge has become so popular that in 2003 alone house prices rose by a massive 43%, pricing many buyers out of the housing market. According to the 2001 Census of England and Wales, the town has the highest number of lesbians per head in the UK. Sir Bernard Ingham, Baroness Thatcher's former press secretary, acidly observed in the Hebden Bridge Times that the town's supposed status as the 'Lesbian Capital of Great Britain' didn't say much for the men of Hebden Bridge. The comment backfired. 'It brought good business into the area', said estate agent Margaret Ashworth, the 'good business' being young, isolated lesbian couples alerted to a safe haven. The town's set in the wild, beautiful Yorkshire landscape. Nearby, the infamous Anne Lister of Halifax, 1791-1840, lived at Shibden Hall. Anne was a wealthy woman and great traveller. Up until her death at the early age of 49 she kept coded diaries, describing her passionate relationships with women, including an account of a failed romance in Hastings during 1832. She wrote in her journal at the time, 'I cried and sobbed bitterly for an hour last night'. Friend Mary says this is known as 'the Hastings effect'. Where was I? By the 1970s, Hebden Bridge's proud boast as being 'the world centre for the manufacture of working men's trousers' had been shattered by overseas production. As many of Hebden's inhabitants sought work elsewhere a new community, ranging from artists, writers and musicians to New Age activists and Green campaigners arrived, attracted by the stunning countryside and houses selling for as little as £50. Cheryl Stovin - small, blonde with spiky hair - and her partner Jo Turton - according to Cheryl, tiny bit plumper with multi-coloured hair - opened their own bar, The Tenth Muse, in nearby Todmorden in December 2000. When Cheryl moved to Todmorden 28 years ago to be with Jo, she recalls that you could still see women wearing clogs in the street. Initially she hated the town but within six months its generous community spirit won her over. 'Neighbours would turn up at the front door with the offer of a cabbage in those days. They wanted to be friendly. These were straight people. In the early 1980s there were very few lesbians living here - only about four or five apart from us.' During the 1980s, women arrived in increasing numbers. Cheryl asserts; 'Although Hebden Bridge is generally considered the main lesbian town, Todmorden has easily as much to offer; affordable housing, plenty of women-only venues and not least our 20-year-old monthly Women's Disco.' Back in Hastings, Pam and Sandra are two more multi-tasking lesbians. They organise several of the Hastings Rainbow Alliance events, are members of the Gay Caravan and Camping Club, and in July 2005 bought their first motor home together. They're very presentable gals with a predilection for red and black ensembles which unwittingly co-ordinate with their black leather sofa, red cushions and designer rug. 'We have the least dykey occupation you could imagine.' Sandra sways as she explains. 'We make porcelain dolls.' The majority of their dolls are very femme, although I do spot one inexplicably sporting a white beard. But fair enough. There's a long tradition of bearded women in my family. Pam's lived in Hastings for most of her life, but Sandra was born in Scotland and only moved to Hastings five years ago. Pam loves the town, while Sandra takes a more cautious but still upbeat view; 'Although it's great down here, as yet here's no real focal bar or pub like you find in London. However, because the property's so reasonable, a lot of women are moving to Hastings while maintaining their social lives elsewhere.' Which brings me back again to Mary, who moved to Hastings in 2004. She too was attracted to the active artistic community and many music venues. Mary's still undecided whether the move was right for her. She says that when she meets new people she emphasises that she's 'recently from London'. 'I'm frightened of losing that connection. Like people will make assumptions about me, that I've given up the fight.' As in 'people' will think she's become provincial, has retired and lost the will to live? 'Yes, yes and possibly,' she says. Three years ago, I wasn't tired of life but I was finding London claustrophobic. Most of my friends were in relationships, there was just me, feeling like an oddball. It was time to toss the cards up in the air and see where they'd fall. Hastings. But perhaps even Hastings is old hat. Maybe Workington's first lesbian social night at the Steam Packet Inn, which was reported in last month's News & amp; Star, heralds the birth of a lesbian enclave in Cumbria. Soon lesbians will be beating down the door at the Inn in the gay-friendliest town in the country, says 33-year-old organiser Amanda Rendall. She told the local paper, 'There's a big gay community in Cumbria but no social activities specifically for women.' With a group of friends Amanda runs the Gaycumbria website, visited over 8000 times since it was set up eight months ago. So, for all you women with itchy feet wondering where to move next, stick Workington on your list. Diary of a Provincial Lesbian by V.G. Lee is published by Onlywomen Press http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1574 Watch out for those straight girls kissing - they're doing it for the boys and they don't want to kiss you. LOTTE JEFFS finds out why Don't get me wrong; some of my best friends are straight. I'll happily spend a night out with the girls, swigging Chardonnay at All Bar One, reciting lines from Desperate Housewives and dancing round our handbags, but that's where I draw the line. Not even words like 'Fatboy Slim', 'Fabric', or 'Free before 11' can entice me to accompany my mates to a straight club. I know London's full of super-cool super-clubs, but when it comes to late-night partying I'm afraid it's gay all the way for me. But according to Becca, my old university flatmate, 'clubbing is like totally lezzed-up these days'. She claims that girls snogging girls have become as much a staple of straight clubbing culture as glow sticks and guys in novelty T-shirts. Much to my surprise, she described how she recently got so into 'grinding with some girl' that her boyfriend had to physically prise them apart. And yeah, she's had a few loved-up moments with a mutual girlfriend of ours that have ended in their locking lips: 'I mean, who hasn't snogged Sophe?' Erm, Me. And I'm supposed to be the lesbian around here. It emerged that girl-on-girl action has been part of my straight mates' Friday night fix for months. Clearly, this was a matter for further investigation. There was only one thing for it - the high heels that had been gathering dust in the closet ever since I finally came out of it were about to make a come back. I was going straight-clubbing. The venue was in London's seedy Kings Cross; a little out of my Soho comfort zone but close enough to escape to gay indie club Popstarz if the straights acting Sapphic didn't do it for me. The queue of über-trendies stretched halfway down the street. Bare flesh abounded. Do straight girls feel the cold less than lesbians? We'd happily check our entire winter wardrobe into the cloakroom if it meant staying warm in the line. But in hetero-land, it seems, contracting pneumonia is a small price to pay for a fast track to the dancefloor. 'So, when do you two get it on then?' I asked of my girly chaperones for the evening as we downed vodka-jellies at the bar. 'It's not like it's planned, or anything. We just get high and it happens,' said Sophe. 'With you here we'll be too self-conscious.' My mates weren't about to be my own private porn show and so far it was all looking decidedly conventional. Guys with designer stubble stood in packs, while girls pretended not to notice them. There was some desultory dancing. 'It takes a while for everyone to come up,' Becca explained. 'I mean, who hasn't snogged Sophe?' Erm, me. And I'm supposed to be the lesbian around here If I were going to spend the night with wide-eyed 20-somethings frantically chewing gum and telling me they loved me, I'd rather be on more familiar gay ground. Popstarz was looking increasingly appealing. Just as I was ready to don my duffle coat and get the hell out of there, Sophe and Becca came bounding up to me. 'Jen's here,' they squealed, 'and she's dancing with a girl - like, really dancing.' I was dragged to a dark corner where two busty blondes were kissing like their lives depended on it. They were surrounded by a small crowd of guys who were watching with a 'they're at it again' kind of distraction. 'Sorry to cut in,' said Sophe, thrusting a glass of Archers between them. 'I wanted to introduce you to my friend. She's writing about straight girls who kiss girls.' Sophe had evidently destroyed the moment, because the girl Jen had just been making-out with was now flirting with a bloke from her audience. And Jen, oblivious, was busy re-applying her lip-gloss. 'You two make a lovely couple,' I ventured. 'Yeah, he's sweet isn't he,' Jen replied, giving a little wave to an ungainly chap who'd been watching the action from behind a pint glass. 'Oh, I actually meant that girl. You seemed to be - well - intimate.' Jen explained that she didn't know her snogging partner. Her boyfriend just liked to watch her kissing girls and she didn't mind it either. 'But I'm not bi or anything,' she explained, 'I'm just pissed.' So, did she honestly get anything out of it? 'Look, I might be a bit fucked but I know what I'm doing. I like kissing girls. They smell nice and their lips are softer than blokes.' They know how to run their fingers through your hair with out messing it up and there's something a bit perverse about it that's pretty sexy. 'And you're sure you're not bisexual?' 'I'd never sleep with a girl. That would be weird, and I like cock too much. Plus the girls I pull are straight - they wouldn't want to, either.' I asked Jen how she'd feel if she accidentally hooked up with a lesbian at a club. 'It would freak me out a bit,' she said. 'It would be more of a big deal.' By this point the club was really hotting up, and my friends were right - pseudo-lesbian action was rife. Girls were dancing up against each other, straddling each other on the sofas and yes, a few were even deep into Sapphic snog-fests. The guys were loving it and, as a matter of fact. so was I. But seriously, once the novelty had worn off I began to wonder if these women were exploiting themselves for male attention. Sure, they claimed to enjoy it - they certainly looked like they were - but drunk, drugged-up and vulnerable had they become the page three fictions of their testosterone-charged voyeurs? Paula Hall is a sexual and relationship psychotherapist for Relate. She claims that the situation is only exploitative if the girl is non-consenting. Otherwise, says Hall, 'it can add a new layer of excitement and fantasy to a heterosexual relationship.' She explains that: 'All of us are somewhere on the gay/ straight continuum and all of us are aroused by variety. If you're not turned off by the idea of lesbian sex, then flirting around the edges of it can be sexy.' Perhaps then same-sex snogging arouses straight women in a way they find complicated to acknowledge. That could be the reason why ostensibly open-minded women harbour such contradictory prejudices as Jen, the girl who'll kiss a girl as long as she's not a lesbian. Hall explains: 'If both of girls are straight, there's an unspoken agreement it's "just for fun". If you were to discover that she was gay, you might worry she had a different agenda and had been getting much more out of the snog than you ever intended to give.' Throughout my night of straight-clubbing it was becoming clear that same-sex snogging was really just another way to indulge in mindless hedonism. Imagine if the same was true for straight guys - 'Unlikely,' says Hall. 'Women have more "erotic plasticity", which means that the kind of things that turn them on are influenced and changed by who they're with, their external circumstances and the stage of life they're at. Evolutionary psychologists argue that straight men need to be more fixed, as their biological goal is to impregnate. Women are receptive to whatever's on offer. They live in community and support one another, so being sexual is a smaller step to make than it is for the lone hunter-gatherer male.' It seemed to me, however, that in clubbing-land it was far more about E than 'evolution'. As the last song came to an end and the lights lifted to reveal the carnage of the dancefloor, I took a moment to reflect on my night out with the girls. I was slightly disappointed that my friends' foray into lesbian snogging was more about attention-seeking than genuine bi-curiosity, and I wasn't going to be bumping into them on the scene any time soon. But I'd certainly had fun. I mean, what self-respecting lesbian wouldn't be slightly turned on by two sexy straight girls in skimpy dresses giving gay a pretty good go? GAY FOR PLAY: IS SHE OR ISN'T SHE? When celebrity women make out, the mainstream media is titillated to a screaming tabloid climax. Meanwhile, we real lesbians shake our heads in mutual bemusement. Madonna, Britney and Christina in a three-way snog at the 2003 MTV awards; Paris Hilton locking lips with Eglantina Zingg, in an oh-so accidentally revealed home video. It's about as 'lesbian' as a Club 18-30s holiday. But when it's not a well-rehearsed PR stunt, how can you spot a pseudo gay-girl kiss? It's all in the eyes Straight girls will have their eyes open and spend the entirety of the kiss looking over each other's shoulder - 'What's the point if there's not a captive audience?' Look - no hands! Their lips might be locked in an apparently passionate embrace, but the rest of their bodies will be as far away from each other as physically possible. Wayward groping is a big no-no. And anyway, they need their hands free to take photos for the boyf with their picture phones. Don't call us Post-snog, straight girls are far more likely to exchange eyelash curlers than they are phone numbers. In any case, they're probably best friends who have a clubbing agreement that if neither has pulled by midnight they'll go gay until they drum up enough male interest. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=1573 The BBC is failing lesbian and gay viewers, according to a recent report by Stonewall. But are they watching the same telly as us? LOUISE CAROLIN hops channels There's no denying that television has a massive influence on social attitudes. Even in this age of increasingly diverse entertainment media and bewilderingly speedy technological advance, the good old box in the corner is still the universal arbiter of the socially acceptable. So when Stonewall published its controversial report criticising the BBC for poor representation of gay people, and lesbians in particular, it thrust an important issue into the limelight. For those who've never encountered an out lesbian, Eastenders' Naomi and her ilk may crucially influence their perceptions. If the lesbians portrayed on TV are as diverse and complex as in real life, that's dandy. But if they all tend towards a single stereotype (manipulative, predatory, marriage-wreckers, say), then we're in trouble. Lesbians deserve better than that. Equally, as TV license-payers, we can demand good value for money. According to Stonewall's analysis of government figures, lesbians and gay men pay £190 million each year in license fees, of which a whopping £90 million goes towards programming BBC One and Two. So last summer, every other night for eight weeks, Stonewall researchers monitored these two channels during peak-time. During these 168 hours, they report, lesbian and gay sexuality and lives were "positively and realistically" captured for just six minutes. A further 32 minutes showed us in "demeaning and derogatory ways", including clichéd stereotypes, the use of "gay" as an insult and implied gay sexuality as a put-down. With 82 per cent of these references specific to gay men, Stonewall declared that on the BBC lesbians hardly exist at all. With 82 per cent of references specific to gay men, Stonewall declared that on the BBC lesbians hardly exist at all In these circumstances, you might expect a babble of condemnation from lesbians and gay men, outraged by the BBC's neglect. But the response has been oddly muted and ambivalent. Do we really not care that the BBC spends our money on putting us down, or is it that we just don't watch telly the same way Stonewall does? Of course part of the issue is that ordinary people don't only watch two channels for three hours a night. If you've got the full complement to choose from, the picture improves considerably. In fact, lately it's felt like you can't switch on TV without snagging a dyke storyline. Far from feeling hard-done-by, many lesbian channel-hoppers are thinking they've never had it so good. Just think of Eastenders (BBC1), Neighbours (BBC1), Bad Girls (ITV1), Footballers' Wives (ITV1), Family Affairs (C5), Emmerdale (ITV1) and The L Word (LivingTV). Not to mention the lesbian couples on BBC3's real-life Wedding Stories, Sue Perkins on BBC1s late night Review, or the queering of Agatha Christie in the recent Marple and Poirot dramatisations on ITV1, or the BBC's own high-profile costume dramas, Tipping The Velvet and Fingersmith. "I really don't feel terribly aggrieved," admits Sue O'Sullivan, who recently appeared in the BBC4 documentary, Angry Wimmin, which dusted off the glory days of 1980s lesbian-feminism for a mainstream audience. "However, I'd like to see more lesbians on serious TV, discussion programmes and so on. Issues around lesbianism aren't treated seriously. Would most people even know, from watching TV, what those issues are?" This is a sentiment echoed by DIVA journalist and L Word fanatic, Tim Teeman: "I don't care what we look like, I care what comes out of our mouths. That's where we always fall down. The L Word wins on sheer numbers because there are always more dykes on screen and that means a variety of representation. Programme-makers should write us into formats that are scoring high ratings - we should be on Trinny and Susannah and Wife Swap. We should be in formats where issues that affect us are discussed." So, given that lesbians are so evidently flavour of the month with programmers, why aren't we appearing more frequently on reality TV? Could it possibly be our own fault...? "In my experience, reality casting is based on the strength of individual characters, regardless of their demographic," says Lisa Wellsted, a freelance senior producer for popular shows including Big Brother and Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. "In 12 years, I don't think I've ever worked on a show where the makers weren't as keen to cast gay women as members of any other demographic group, but as a lesbian myself I've observed that, across many programme types, fewer gay women volunteer for casting than straight or bisexual people and gay men. That scarcity inevitably impacts on the number of lesbians who make it through to the final round." And is it desirable, or even possible, to force programme-makers to represent us proportionally to the general population? This idea has provoked responses varying from ridicule to disdain in the mainstream press, and indeed, it is hard to see how it would work, going by Wellsted's experience. If the "normal, ordinary" lesbians we wish to see on TV don't respond to researchers' pleas, we'll get Kitten from Big Brother notoriety instead. Perhaps the reason that many of us can't get worked up about Stonewall's claim that we're under-represented is that things are so much better than they were. Thirty years of campaigning for visibility and representation has really paid off, suggests Sally Munt, senior lecturer in media studies at Sussex University. "The problem with the Stonewall report is that it really only shows one part of the overall picture. The intent behind it is laudable, and this is obviously an important area to keep monitoring, but it holds us open to criticism as the lesbian and gay community when the research carried out in our name isn't of the highest quality. "I am tremendously optimistic about the representation of lesbians on TV. Stonewall is a campaigning group and their job is to identify a problem and argue a political position. Undoubtedly there are still problems and negative representation, but I think there are many great representations of gay people on TV that are worked into mainstream programmes." Munt points to Six Feet Under and Shameless (both C4) as good examples. Surprisingly, maybe, the strongest reaction in favour of Stonewall's claim came from the BBC's own lesbian and gay employees. Kam Wan, voluntary co-ordinator of the BBC L& G Forum, told DIVA that forum members largely agreed with the report. "The BBC is a world-class broadcaster and public service is its life-blood. It is well-regarded and trusted by its viewers; it can change people's attitudes and shatter misconceptions. There remains a lot of homophobia in Britain; there is bullying, intimidation and violence. The fair portrayal of LGBT people on television is crucial." Following Stonewall's research and BBC chairman Michael Grade's recent declaration that the BBC must "deliver public value to the benefit of the nation as a whole and the individuals who pay (...) their license fee", forum members have vowed to take an active role in promoting fair representation within the BBC. "We don't want to police or dictate to the organisation, which is not a homophobic employer, but to champion fair representation because that is what the BBC has promised viewers," Wan asserts. "There now exists a unique opportunity for the BBC to identify its deficiencies and work towards serving this sizeable chunk of audience better. To that end, the BBC L& G Forum is here to open a dialogue with programme makers and commissioning editors, and to challenge the prevailing culture and thinking that denies us the fair, complex and nuanced representation we deserve." Although gay people work within the BBC at all levels (the L& G Forum has 250 active members with hundreds more remaining low-key), there is no dedicated mechanism within the organisation to monitor the representation of lesbians and gay men, as there is for other minority groups. Stonewall is right to highlight this absence. In a Guardian article on March 6th, Ben Summerskill observed that the BBC seemed loathe to agree that Stonewall might have a point. In the process of producing this article, DIVA asked the BBC to clarify its position on the representation of lesbians, gay men and other minority audiences three times before a relevant response was received. 'The BBC is committed to reflecting the diversity of the UK and to making its services accessible to all. This applies to both the output - TV, radio and online - and the workforce, aiming to be inclusive of groups which are often under-represented - older people, women, disabled people, people from ethnic minorities, those of all faiths and social classes, lesbians and gay men', said its statement. That's good news. If the BBC won't acknowledge the criticism of its lesbian and gay license-payers, perhaps it'll listen to its own employees. Whatever our individual viewing habits, the members of the BBC L& G Forum speak for all of us when they say fair portrayal is crucial. Auntie Beeb, are you listening? http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=578 Nearly 50 per cent of lesbians aren't out at work for fear of abuse. Despite legal workplace protection, homophobia is still a problem, finds Chris Johnston The times really must be changing when a police force is named Britain's most gay- and lesbian-friendly employer. The Staffordshire Force was top of Stonewall's latest Workplace Equality Index earlier this year, edging out big multinational companies such as IBM and Accenture. While there are tens of thousands of employers in Britain, the stature of the organisations appearing on the list indicates that things are at last moving in the right direction for lesbians and gay men. Some of that can be attributed to the introduction in December 2003 of legislation banning discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation in employment. For the first time, the law protects LGB workers from being sacked or directly or indirectly discriminated against simply because of their sexuality. Employers can now be taken to the cleaners by workers who believe they've suffered some form of discrimination because of their sexuality, and Human Resources departments have to ensure their companies comply with the new rules. And not before time: a Cardiff University study carried out for Stonewall in 2004 found that one in four LGB people had been sacked or forced out of a job because of their sexuality. Since the new law took effect, a number of women and men have taken their cases to employment tribunals. In February 2005, Helen Brearly won more than £26,000 after a Nottingham employment tribunal agreed she'd been unfairly dismissed from a shop fitting company, Timber Tailors. The firm sacked her after claiming she'd let her standard of work slip due to sending 'excessive' numbers of explicit emails to her lesbian lover which, it said, amounted to gross misconduct. However, the tribunal concluded that the company had 'grossly overstated' the problem, and that it should have warned her instead of sacking her. Employers can now be taken to the cleaners by workers who believe they've suffered some form of discrimination because of their sexuality Stephen Frost, director of Stonewall's workplace programmes, says the employment anti-discrimination legislation is working effectively and is some of the best in the world. Under the law, the burden of proof lies on the employer, so an organisation has to demonstrate that the law hasn't been breached, rather than an employee having to prove they've been discriminated against. Apart from the expense of a tribunal, many employers realise such case can generate considerable bad publicity and now try to avert problems before they arise. 'Tribunals should be a last resort, because good employers should be taking action before things get to that stage,' Frost says. It's good business for companies to ensure their workplaces are free from sexuality-related discrimination, he adds. Not only does it make a company like IBM - which has a number of lesbians in senior positions - more attractive to queer employees, it also makes those already there less likely to defect to a competitor. Frost admits, though, that the legislation isn't perfect. There'll be situations where people will prefer to be known for their performance, not their sexual orientation, and will be reluctant to take action, particularly if they aren't out at work. One in five gay employees still feels unable to reveal their orientation to workmates, according to the Cardiff University research. Rachel - not her real name - from Brighton walked out of her job in a medical records library just before Christmas 2005, unable to take any more of the subtle, persistent homophobic abuse her supervisor dished out. She was in no doubt that her boss 'had it in for me because I'm a lesbian', and was racist and critical of anyone remotely 'different'. The last straw was being verbally abused by a co-worker; when management did almost nothing, Rachel felt she had no choice but to leave without another job to go to. She hasn't taken action - which must be launched within three months - because she can't bear the thought of reliving the abuse. 'I felt I was on the verge of a breakdown. I was so f**ked up because my supervisor had talked about my sexuality with my colleagues. I just wanted to put it all behind me,' Rachel explains. When the discrimination law came into effect, it applied to employment rather than other spheres of life, says Joanne Conaghan, professor of law at Kent University and a member of its Centre for Studies in Law, Gender and Sexuality. But lobbying by Stonewall and other groups has made the government change its stance. A Department for Trade and Industry spokeswoman told DIVA that regulations outlawing sexual orientation discrimination in the provision of goods, facilities, services and public functions will be introduced in October 2006, and they'll cover a wide range of areas where lesbians and gay men face discrimination, such as access to hotel rooms. Professor Conaghan points out that there is currently no governmental body charged with promoting the new regulations. However, the Commission on Equality and Human Rights will be set up next year to support individuals facing any form of discrimination. When workers feel confident enough to take their case to an employment tribunal, they'll consider whether staff have been trained, complaints have been taken seriously, and whether offending employees have been disciplined for breaching employers' policies, according to Jean Sapeta, employment partner at law firm Bevan Brittan. 'Once employees complain, employers have to investigate and not brush aside the concerns raised,' she says. 'The days when "it's just banter" would be accepted as an excuse are over. Silence is no longer the only option.' The next milestone will be cases launched by employees alleging they haven't been employed or promoted because of their sexual orientation. While legislation is never an instant cure for a problem, the days of homophobia in the workplace appear to be numbered. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=577 Like Le Tigre and Chicks On Speed, The Gossip are on a mission to make uniue music that challenges, provokes and makes people want to shake their booties. Interview by SARAH-JANE Formed in Arkansas, USA in the late 90s, queer trio The Gossip identify themselves as 'artists, poets, cooks, writers, feminists, designers, musicians and DJs‚ interested in art, change, the underground, dancing, punk history and movements'. An exciting band, live and on record, they fuse raw garage riffs with echoes of classic R& B, Motown and blues. DIVA had the pleasure of speaking to their extraordinary singer, Beth Ditto, on the eve of the launch of their third album, Standing In The Way of Control. The new album is one of the best garage records I've heard in years. Did you have fun recording it? 'Yeah, we had a blast. We were whisked away to this little wonderland where James Brown recorded in the 70S and 80s. It was a little hut in the middle of the woods, and there was a great energy there. I don't know if Nathan and Hannah would agree, but it was the most fun I've ever had recording an album.' What's the title track, Standing In The Way of Control, about? 'It's about gay men and lesbians waiting decades to show their commitment to each other and then having their marriages annulled. Nobody in the States was that surprised or shocked by what Bush did, but it made everyone I know feel helpless and cheated. I wrote the chorus to try and encourage people not to give up and let one man take control of our lives. It's a scary time for civil rights, but I really believe the only way to survive is to stick together and keep fighting. I wrote the lyrics after a long conversation with my best friend, Jerry. I'm always on the road and he's very much a homebody, so we don't get to hook up much in person.' And Jealous Girls? 'That's about me growing up, dating someone for four years and realising my worth. It's not easy being a fat, queer femme in a society where fat people are considered worthless, but I'm proud of who I am and what I represent. The fact I don't pass in either the straight or gay world is just something I've learnt to live with over the years.' 'It's not easy being a fat, queer femme in a society where fat people are considered worthless, but I'm proud of who I am' What kind of audiences do you usually get at your shows? 'It really depends where we're playing and who we're playing with. Some shows are full of dykes and queers, and some are a mix of nerdy indie kids and butch straight men. I prefer playing to queer audiences, but wherever I am, I like to entertain people and challenge their preconceptions.' You relocated to Portland, Oregon - home to post-riot grrls Sleater-Kinney - two years ago. What's that like? 'It's a big city with great museums and fun shops, but it's not as progressive or radical as Olympia. The queer scene in Olympia was really white, but it was full of people who would make magic happen, and the events they used to put on at the Capitol Theatre were mind-blowing. It didn't matter what body type you were, people would put on their high heels and eyeliner moustaches and know they were going to have a great time.' Your recent 12‰ had a killer remix by Le Tigre and cover art by Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon. How did you get so lucky? 'I honestly don't know. I guess it's because there aren't that many out feminist artists making imaginative music - so the ones who are tend to stock together. I've been a big Sonic Youth fan for as long as I can remember, but hearing Bikini Kill and Le Tigre for the first time was like finding a sister. I think Kathleen's a genius, and her music always speaks to me on a personal level.' Which other singers have inspired and left an impression on you? 'Mama Cass, Missy Elliott, Dusty Springfield and Dolly Parton. People criticise Dolly because she's been around forever, but to me she's the ultimate high femme.' When did you realise you possessed such a brilliantly powerful blues voice? 'When I was a little kid, I tried desperately to sing pretty songs like Tori Amos. Eventually, I realised I didn't have a quiet voice and started to listen to singers like Aretha Franklin and Janis Joplin. They made me realise I had a soulful voice, and it was ok to use it and be real with it.' Your ideal Valentine's Day presents are? A candy-pink KitchenAid mixer and a pair of electric-yellow flats in size seven. I'd also love a new bicycle because mine has just been stolen.' * Standing In The Way of Control is out now on Kill Rock Stars. The Gossip play London's Cargo on Saturday February 11th http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=572 She's garnered an armful of awards for her blockbusting TV chatshow, she's officially joined the Hollywood A-list and her circle of friends includes Bill Clinton and Sharon Stone. Where did it all go right for Ellen DeGeneres, asks JOANNA WALTERS Ellen DeGeneres is the most important lesbian in America. Not that she is heading up gay rights marches or snuggling her girlfriend in front of the President, as she did in the (good?) old days with then-partner Anne Heche. Quite the opposite for this most reluctant poster dyke. But her fledgling daytime television chat show has rocketed to such unexpected success in the US that she's being showered with awards and her face is broadcast into 1.5 million American living rooms every weekday. Aged 48, Ellen is the old-new pretender snapping at Oprah's heels and she can't get enough of mainstream magazine interviews where she talks about how much she loves her Aussie screen siren and girlfriend, Portia de Rossi, 32. DeGeneres is no longer the Lesbian Comedienne; she's the consummate TV talk show host who is, by the way, a lesbian, and a comedian who's soaring to superstardom in a massive comeback after her career stalled when she came out in 1997. A-List celebrities such as Nicole Kidman, Sharon Stone, Queen Latifah, Tom Cruise, Jude Law, Elton John and Angelina Jolie are falling over themselves to appear on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. As many of Ellen's viewers live in deeply conservative Middle America, as the newly acceptable face of lesbianism, she avoids highlighting her sexuality on the show. But everybody knows it by now. She wears a platinum band on her wedding finger and Portia is sometimes in the audience sitting next to Ellen's lifelong ally, her mother Betty. America finally fully appreciates her. Evangelicals and the staunchest Republicans notwithstanding, 'Ellen is changing the world covertly through the show. I know of several homophobes, my mother included, who've had to put their prejudices aside because Ellen is too damn funny to NOT watch,' said one Karen Belcher, in a letter to gay magazine The Advocate. DeGeneres has just won a prestigious PGA Golden Laurel Award for Television Producer of the Year and her show has been given 11 nominations for the 2006 Emmy awards, the US equivalent of the BAFTAS. Many wish she would wave placards again and plug gay rights on her show, but if you believe in equality campaigning simply by charm, visibility and honesty, DeGeneres is the queer world's reinvented champion. 'She's proving to Middle America that gays can be, ahem, normal too. That crossover, where Ellen has her gay following and her straight following, is the first that we've seen for a long time. It's the first step for many people to accept someone who's alternative,' says Stephanie Perdomo, chief executive of lesbian action-figure company Dykedolls.com. She doesn't highlight her sexuality, but she wears a platinum band on her wedding finger and Portia is sometimes in the audience Ellen's always been slammed for being too gay or not gay enough in her public life. But she talks more and more these days about being able to be the most 'herself' she's ever been. 'It's not been an easy ride for her,' said Perdomo. And on television, she glows. She's even made daytime TV cool. From quirky, closeted comedian to out comedian to outcast to comeback kid, she's achieved that rare thing in showbusiness - or public life in general - a genuine second coming. 'I never wanted to be "the lesbian actress". I never wanted to be the spokesperson for the gay community. Ever. I did it for my own truth,' she said of becoming a gay campaigner by default in the late 90s after coming out. But since her career bombed and rose again, both Ellen and the world have come a long way. In a delicious modern paradox, gossip columns mention her and Portia, often affectionately, just like any other celebrity couple being intruded upon. It's 'Love birds Ellen and her girlfriend...' not 'lesbian this and lesbian that' these days. She has caused as much sensation in her love life with Heche, Alexandra Hedison and Portia de Rossi as if Sandi Toksvig had dated Keira Knightly, then Fiona Shaw and then dumped her for Kylie Minogue. But these days Ellen is starring on the covers of mainstream, mid-market American women's magazines with her trademark choppy-blonde hair, pale suits and geekily pristine tennis sneakers, next to headlines such as 'Why We Love Ellen'. It's really quite a turn around. How so? 'Times have changed and Ellen's changed. It's a combination. And America loves to forgive people - they love an underdog comeback story,' explains Sarah Warn, editor of Seattle-based lesbian website Afterellen.com. 'Ellen disappeared for a while and people like Rosie O'Donnell and Melissa Etheridge were out there taking the heat instead about gay marriage, etc. 'Now she's back into an America where the fundamentalists have come out swinging, but for the average American the concept of gays and lesbians is far more routine,' she added. People magazine, one of America's bestselling weeklies, recently headlined an article about Ellen thus: 'Enjoying a career rebirth and the romance of her life, daytime TV's new queen has never been happier'. Ellen's show is all about fun. She gets her guests to act the goat and she does down-to-earth stuff in a unique mix. But she avoids gay politics, or any politics, although she does push a 'quietly-liberal' agenda. Lesbian fans were disappointed when she had Melissa Etheridge on the show and both women avoided the topic of gay marriage, despite the fact that Melissa had just signed a domestic partnership with Tammy Lynn Michaels. 'She's keeping her sexuality on the downlow. She'll tell a magazine about her love for a femme, but she stays away from anything that smacks of lesbian politics. But she's reaching a middle America no other lesbian can reach at the moment. Ordinary people want to have her over for dinner or coffee - they aren't thinking that she eats pussy all day,' said New York drag king and hairstylist Stacey 'Johnny Kat' Whitmire. Her trademark is starting each show with a comedy monologue then breaking into a half-humorous, half-sexy disco-meets-hip-hop dance routine. And when the show's over, she drives home to her multi-million dollar estate with Portia in her Porsche. On de Rossi, Ellen told People: 'It's the first time that I've known in every cell of my being that I'm with somebody for the rest of my life'. Sadly for Ellen's British fans, they've seen little of her these last five years or so. Her sitcom used to be on Channel 4 and in the early Ellen-and-Anne days of the late 90s, the glam couple came to London and toyed with the idea of buying a house. But she's remained on the fringe in the UK. Her new chatshow isn't on TV and her brand of stand-up comedy is too banal for the more edgy UK market, compared with homegrown Wood and Walters or French & amp; Saunders at their best. She has repeatedly turned down DIVA for an interview in the last two years. 'She does the token one or two gay interviews a year, occasionally talks to The Advocate. She does just enough so we can't accuse her of abandoning us, but she's constantly positioning herself for her majority audience. Professionally, she's doing the right thing', said one US lesbian media observer. It seems such a shame - but damn it, we're loyal, and it can only be a matter of time before she and Portia pose for a hot DIVA cover, no? Meanwhile, she continues to rewrite the definition of lesbian visibility. Her sitcom character came out in 1997 on national television, a year before the first episode of Will & amp; Grace and years before Queer As Folk, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy or The L Word. 'They said "Okay, we know you're gay. We'll let you do the coming-out episode". But then they wanted me to do stories that have nothing to do with my sexuality,' Ellen told Entertainment Weekly. Nine years later, hard lesson learned, that's exactly how Ellen now plays her career and it's working wonders for her. But those 90s were heady days. Evangelicals took out magazine ads urging boycotts. President Bill Clinton famously said, 'I admire you' as Ellen and Anne canoodled in front of him at a White House reception. Ellen, Anne and Betty would head up gay rights marches and Ellen memorably seduced Sharon Stone in the cable drama If These Walls Could Talk 2. Then, reality check. Humiliation. ABC cancelled her show, Heche was found wandering the streets of Fresno on 'E' looking for her spaceship. She abandoned a heartbroken Ellen and quickly married a mutual male colleague. DeGeneres told The Advocate: 'You know, it feels like your insides are cracking open. The sun would come up and the sun would go down, and I didn't notice because I was just staring at the wall. I'd go through days of crying. It felt like I'd never live again. But you do'. A new CBS sitcom in 2001 failed. Ellen had drifted way, way out of the fast lane. But as a good stand-up, she refused to lie down. She met photographer Alexander Hedison whom she says 'saved my life'. And she was cast for Finding Nemo as the voice of the hilariously dippy cartoon fish Dory, which was written especially for her and reminded the public in 2003 that above all else Ellen DeGeneres was talented, humble, sweet and funny. She tentatively took on a daytime chatshow for NBC in the autumn of 2003, a TV genre where most fail and she had nothing to lose. But she is a hit. She sensationally left Alexandra Hedison for Portia in November 2004, only weeks after declaring that Alex was the love of her life and she had 'never felt like this before'. Now it's Portia, and this time she has definitely, absolutely, never felt like this before. During the turmoil, when live-in lover Alex had to move out, the gossip columns were going bonkers and Portia was leaving her girlfriend Francesca Gregorini for Ellen, such is DeGeneres' professionalism that there wasn't the slightest hint of upheaval from her slick, jokey television performances. 'She likes them blonde, beautiful, younger and famous. I think she likes to play Daddy,' said Whitmire, tongue-in-cheek. She certainly wouldn't be getting the same acceptance in the mainstream if her girlfriend was a big bulldyke. Somewhere beneath the teddy bear persona is a woman of steel. She's reaping the rewards and so, incrementally, is the gay equality campaign. 'I know what it feels like to not have money and I know what it feels like to have money. But fame and fortune never fill you up - the only thing I can't live without is love', DeGeneres told the magazine Redbook. Now she's enjoying all three, in unprecedented quantities. People reported in January: 'On the Block. Ellen's Estate. Price: $9.9million. Place: Los Angeles. Ellen DeGeneres is doing the real estate dance. After buying a $22million property off Sunset Strip, where she and girlfriend Portia de Rossi will live, she's selling her two-plus-acre Hollywood Hills compound'. Even Bill Clinton's back on the scene. He recorded a surprise message to Ellen played on the show on her 48th birthday in January, thanking her for making people 'laugh and think' and for raising millions to help victims of Hurricane Katrina in her native New Orleans. He signed off to a tearful Ellen: 'You're one of a kind, you're a wonder and I'm glad you've been my friend. Happy birthday'. Can you imagine Tony Blair posing with Elton and David cuddling at Number 10, then sending Elton a public birthday message? There is a long, long way to go. But what a difference Ellen is making. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=570 Once there was Desert Hearts, Liana, Go Fish and Bound, but in recent years, there's been a bit of a dip in quality and quantity of sapphic cinema offerings. MEL STEEL wants to know: whatever happened to lesbian film? There's an episode of American sitcom Will & amp; Grace in which Will and Jack are trying to educate unfashionably late sexual developer Barry in the ways and byways of the contemporary urban gay man. Barry's puzzling over a recent gay film he's seen. What was it about, exactly? Why was it - well, so bad? 'Let me let you into a community secret', confides Will. 'Gay films suck. But we still have to go see them'. There have been moments just lately, watching turkey after lesbian DVD turkey in the name of journalistic research, when I've felt every bit as bewildered and unbewitched by our collective cinematic output as poor Barry. And I know I'm not alone in having had some of my most memorable cinematic experiences at the London L& G Film Festival over the years in the bar, after a film, weeping with hysterical laughter at the sheer awfulness of what we've just endured on screen. And yet whenever I see the Festival programme for the first time I get the same frisson of excitement and anticipation. What's on for the girls this year? What pearls might there be lurking among the, erm, Sapphic swine? Because some of the best moments have been here too, watching a film on the big screen for the first time that makes your spine tingle and the hair stand up on the back of your neck, thinking: 'Wow, this has never been done on film before. This story has never been told, or never been told in this way'. This is truly cinema heaven: sitting in the dark in breathless silence, watching vast projected images that are beautiful, imaginative, inventive, true - and, for once, not being forced to translate character or gender, but seeing reflected up there ourselves; our lives. Lesbians love the movies. More of us go to the cinema every month than gay men, according to the 2005 DIVA and Gay Times Reader Survey: 79% compared to 72%. More of us own a DVD player: a staggering 83% compared to 78% of gay men. And 60% of us respond to mail order ads for films, compared to 42% of gay men. But these figures beg a few questions. What are the 79% of us going to see? Because there certainly aren't that many lesbian movies being made in a month, let alone being distributed to our local high street cinemas, be they arthouse or Odeon. And why do so many of us own a DVD player and order dyke movies online and through mail order? It's probably because they're still simply unavailable, or at the very least hard to find. I've had some memorable cinematic experiences in the bar, weeping with laughter at the sheer awfulness of what we've just seen on screen These questions assume there's a consensus on what constitutes a lesbian film - which, as any festival programmer will tell you, simply doesn't exist. Does it have to be community-generated? Or just feature lezbelicious characters, either in the leads or in peripheral roles? Does Barbara Stanwyck count, as a high-ridin' woman with a whip in 40 Guns? Or the neurotically butch Joan Crawford (and real-life lady-lover Mercedes McCambridge) in Johnny Guitar? For the purposes of this piece, the answer is all of these, and maybe more. And the fact that we now have a choice about the kind of lesbian movies we want to see shows what a long way we've come from the days when Lianna and Desert Hearts (not forgetting Bilitis and Emmanuelle) were the must-sees - read, the only - lesbian movies of the day. Whether we prefer uncritical mainstream romantic features (Desert Hearts, Claire of the Moon) or the sometimes uncomfortable kick of the independent (By Hook or By Crook, Dandy Dust), or both on different nights of the week, the good news is that we can, in theory, indulge. But while the LLGFF celebrates its 20th birthday this year, and runaway hit gay crossover movie Brokeback Mountain is scooping up the BAFTAs - very possibly the Oscars too - the news for the lesbian and gay film industry in general isn't so good. The problem is twofold, says Millivres Prowler publishing head Kim Watson: while the figures show that lesbians are a ready-made cinema audience, not enough lesbian and gay films are being made, and not enough that are get distributed. It seems the programmers of the high street cinema chains simply won't programme independent lesbian and gay films any more. 'Whereas four or five years ago we were getting booked up by cinemas like ABC and City Screen, now the chains just won't take our work,' she says. 'I've noticed a gradual shift since 1998, when I started working in lesbian film distribution, but the booking system has changed dramatically over the last two years. Now they're only interested in blockbusters: it's the power of the multiple.' 'Theatrical distribution is kind of dead in the UK,' agrees Tricia Tuttle, LLGFF's programmer 2001-2003. 'As a gay cultural event, the LLGFF is still hugely important, but in terms of the UK film industry, mainstream distributors won't come to scout around for queer talent in the way that they did, say, with Todd Haynes in the early 90s.' Ironically, perhaps, the fact that Hollywood has moved in on the gay and lesbian movie has meant less opportunity - and less investment - in queer independent cinema and distribution, while the mainstreaming of gay culture by the big studios (Monster, Brokeback Mountain) has meant bigger budgets, higher production values, wider distribution, and A-list actors winning Oscars for playing gay - and/ or ugly. The bigger budgets afforded by bigger, straighter companies are also the reason why independent lesbian and gay distributors like Millivres in the UK and Wolfe Video in the US aren't able to get their hands on some of the films they'd love to be able to add to their catalogues: Gypo, for example, by director Jan Dunn, which is the first British Dogme film and the closing gala night choice for this year's LLGFF, was simply outbid for by Redbus distributors, to Kim's disappointment. 'We're just way out of the league of Pathé, Tartan, the BBC and other distributors,' she admits. Other titles she'd love to distribute but can't include the BBC series Portrait of a Marriage, about the life of Vita Sackville-West, and Lisa Cholodenko's independent features High Art and Laurel Canyon. (Look out for Cholodenko's next feature: an adaptation of Dorothy Allison's novel Cavedweller, with a cast including Kyra Sedgwick, Kevin Bacon and singer Jill Scott.) Some of the biggest-selling titles in Wolfe's catalogue, according to publicist Corey Eubanks, are Claire of the Moon, Chutney Popcorn, By Hook or By Crook, Everything Relative, and It's In The Water. For Millivres, it's Better Than Chocolate, Desert Hearts (bizarrely no longer available because of problems over the licensing rights), Claire of the Moon (now released with Moments, The Making Of..., the biggest-selling lesbian documentary of all time), Go Fish (probably the first confident and funny lesbian feature, and unique at the time, 1994, in being neither tragic doomed romance nor coming-out story) and Lisa Gornick's British digital feature, Do I Love You? Do I Love You?, garnered critical acclaim and a heap of Festival awards on its release, and was so oversubscribed at the 2003 LLGFF that, uniquely in the Festival's history, two extra screenings were hastily scheduled to accommodate demand. It's since been promptly taken up for UK and international theatrical licence and DVD distribution. Gornick - unsurprisingly, given the film's charmed passage - seems relatively sanguine about the future of dyke cinema, and looks to digital technology as the way forward for lesbian film-makers. 'After the prescriptive rules and tradition of film school, I found digital really liberating,' she says. 'It meant that we could write the story as we filmed it rather than having to spend three years in development working on a full script and then trying to get the funding. It allows for greater creativity and independence, I think - and it's lower cost. You don't need much crew: one camera person, one holding the boom mic, and the actors - whereas you could have up to 40 people involved in shooting the same scene in conventional film.' She acknowledges that she was lucky to have the support of the LLGFF, but advises future film-makers not to think that Festival screenings or the backing of conventional distributors are the only ways to get your film out there. 'Don't be scared,' she says. 'There's a digital revolution taking place now, in distribution as well as production, and soon there'll be broadband film streaming too. There are going to be more ways than ever before to get your work made and seen, and more need for new work to supply the demand. I still think there's room for non- mainstream, low-budget work. People relate to worry, fear, love, doubt. I really believe that if you speak the truth, it'll resonate for them.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=569 The adoption laws changed in December 2005 to allow same-sex couples to adopt but, reports ERICA ROBERTS, attitudes towards gay parenting might take longer to change On December 30th 2005, a little-publicised milestone was reached in England and Wales - the Adoption and Children Act 2002 was amended to allow same-sex couples to adopt. This legislative change - somewhat eclipsed at the time in the media by the Civil Partnerships craze - heralds an important new era for gay families. Previously, gay people wanting to adopt had to apply to do so as single people, whether or not their partners ended up co-parenting the child. We're no longer 'pretend families' - we have the right to adopt and be legally recognised as a family unit. There is, however, still a loophole: adoption agencies can still refuse to consider applications from lesbians and gay men, particularly if it's a religious agency that has a policy of only placing children with married couples. But to date there's been no refusal by any local authority. It's clear that the recent change in the law regarding Civil Partnership is likely to have a knock-on effect among lesbian couples wishing to start a family. A recent online poll of DIVA readers revealed that 14% intend to adopt. Legislation may have changed, but as we well know it takes more than a change in law to wipe away the homophobia created by discriminatory laws and practices. Section 28 has left behind a culture of homophobic bullying in the education sector. What's the legacy of the adoption laws and practices that have discriminated against same-sex couples? Sandra, 35, adopted eleven-year-old Karen six years ago - as a single woman. Sandra has been with her current partner, Anna, for nearly six years and they live in a rural community in the north of England. Since the change in law they've considered adding Anna as an adoptive parent, but are sceptical. 'Informally,' explains Sandra, 'Anna's been Karen's co-parent nearly the whole time, but we've never been open with Social Services about it. We've experienced a lot of narrow-mindedness from them. The law's changed but I doubt social workers' minds have.' 'Karen is now talking about being gay herself. We're sure that if she turns out to be a lesbian, Social Services will say we made her that way' Sandra, who trained as a social worker, outlines comments made about her daughter Karen: 'The Social Services questioned whether she might need therapy because she displays tomboy tendencies - because she's a "masculine" girl. Karen's now talking about being gay herself. We're sure that if she turns out to be a lesbian, Social Services will say we made her that way.' Sandra claims that the discrimination in Social Services culture doesn't always manifest in obvious ways. 'Gay people are more likely to get a "difficult" child who's harder to place. They'll never get a baby, whereas I think heterosexual couples up to their late 30s would. Gay families are still judged as not the ideal scenario. Social workers wouldn't say that openly, though.' Sandra and Anna are in the process of fostering another child. They've made a decision not to come out to Social Services: 'We're going to try and foster as a couple, but we said we were best friends. It's just not worth coming out to them. My advice to other lesbian couples thinking about adopting would be to be wary of Social Services. Don't have high expectations of them. If you go in together for assessment, don't take any crap. You're doing them a service, not the other way around. Don't let their underlying assumptions and institutional homophobia stop you getting what you want. 'There's no match between the law changing and social workers and the assessment process changing, especially if you're outside a big city.' Sometimes it's the luck of the draw. Lesbians living in inner-city, gay-friendly areas are more likely to have a positive experience of Social Services, but this depends on where you go. Katie, 45, and her partner Rebecca, 50, live in inner-city London. They're in the process of trying to adopt jointly a two-year-old boy, Simon, who's been living with them for six months. 'Our experience has been mixed,' says Katie. 'We approached a voluntary adoption agency, who said we'd be the first lesbian couple they'd dealt with. We asked if they and the selection panel had had any anti-homophobia training. They hadn't. They weren't a faith-based organisation, but the level of ignorance was irritating. They kept on about the bullying the child would receive as a child of gay parents. They wanted to know about male role models. They told us, "You won't be anybody's first choice", but our later experience was that we were some people's first choice.' In the end, two of the panel members refused the application for adoption for religious reasons, despite this agency not advertising itself as a faith-based organisation. Katie and Rebecca phoned another agency, only to be told, off the record, that the senior social worker was very homophobic. 'We were told it would be a waste of our time. I was grateful for the honesty, even though it's contrary to anti-discrimination policies. But often it's so subtle, you can't prove it.' They didn't give up. They turned to a local inner-city London authority and had a completely different experience. 'They were fantastic. They really welcomed our application.' Katie supports the law change: 'Before, anyone who wanted to be homophobic had a legal string to their bow, but I'm very sceptical about what it'll achieve in practice. The law change sends out a good message - we're being recognised legally. It'll start to make a difference, but culture changes slowly. Social Services need to be much more positive about us and what lesbian families have to offer.' So what's being done to change hearts and minds, post-amendment? The Department for Education and Skills (DfES) is the statutory body now responsible for Children's Social Services, including adoption policies. DIVA asked the DfES whether training had been or would be offered to educate these services about the issues facing same-sex families, and to address any possible institutional homophobia. Nobody was available for comment. The British Association for Adoption and Fostering (BAAF) informed us that, last year, DfES issued compulsory training on the changes in the law for their members, including every local authority in England and Wales and nearly all adoption agencies. 'In preparation for the implementation of the new legislation, BAAF, in partnership with Price Waterhouse Cooper, provided training to all our members in England and Wales relating to the Adoption and Children Act. The two-day workshops were designed for trainers from each local authority area. They'll be able to cascade this training and information within their own agencies.' At the time of going to press, nobody from BAAF was available to say what was covered in those workshops - important, as the legislative changes to the Act didn't just affect same-sex couples. How could a two-day workshop cover complex legislative changes and effectively change the hearts and minds of frontline staff? Will it make any difference to the homophobia we experience when we deal with these people? BAAF also told DIVA that the DfES has developed training materials for all local authorities and voluntary adoption agencies to support the implementation of the Act. But is a trainer pack enough? The D'Arcy Lainey Foundation and Pink Parents UK, which offer training to professionals and agencies working within LGBT family settings, said that training should be more in-depth than simple education: 'We've treated this new legalisation with caution. It's not enough for it to be brought into force without compulsory training and support networks. While the legislation has changed, those assessing applications are unlikely to have changed their views on lesbian and gay parenting. Many same-sex couples, and previously single lesbians and gay men, will have experienced some form of homophobia - direct or indirect - while pursuing the adoption procedure. Because these potential adopters are so committed to fostering or adopting, the homophobia often goes unchallenged. Even with the best policies and training, individual workers are the ones responsible for creating a discrimination-free practice. They need to be able to put any prejudices away in order to demonstrate professionalism at the highest standard, especially when there are many children in need of loving, stable homes and where there are many loving, stable lesbians and gay men who are willing to provide them.' For more information on adoption, visit www.pinkparents.org.uk and www.adoptionuk.org http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=535 ERICA ROBERTS interviews the former Skunk Anansie front-woman Skin rushes into John Henry's rehearsal complex in North London, frazzled. She's late but effortlessly stylish, clad head to toe in black; an andro-rock-chick chic personified. 'I haven't eaten all day,' she pleads breathlessly in her softly girlish voice. Upstairs in the lard-scented cafe she orders a dodgy sausage sarnie, while portraits of rock royalty stare down at us from the grease-soaked walls. The former front woman for Skunk Anansie pulls off her beanie. And - she's perfectly bald again. Gone is the sharp quiff she sported for her 2003 solo debut album, Fleshwounds. Old look, new album: she's here rehearsing Fake Chemical State, her second solo venture, to be released in March. And she's just wound up a teaser three-week mini-tour, playing small clubs around the UK. 'It's nice playing little gigs,' she grins. 'It reminds me of what I love about music, and why I'm doing it. It's like filling yourself up with good feeling. Intimate gigs fill up your soul - because you can see people; they're right there.' Quite a change from Skunk Anansie days - the band that sold four million albums worldwide and clocked up eight hit singles. 'Yeah, I'm used to doing gigs where people are four metres away, with a line of security in between - festivals, my own gigs in Europe. But with smaller gigs, you can be quite moved. People can see my face, which is very animated. Things come across; I can crack jokes and pull a face, and people will get it because they can see it.' This recent mini-tour was a truckload of fun, especially for someone who has such performance hunger. 'I'm very emotive and passionate onstage. I'm a crazy bitch. I just get into it. I didn't make music to sit in my bedroom and listen back to it - I made music because I wanted to be out there. Every artist wants to be loved and worshipped,' she muses. 'And I know how to make people go crazy. That feeling, where that love comes out of you and it goes across the whole audience - and then I get them to laugh.' 'If you're not in the hip-hop scene, you're seen as a bit of a coconut' And yet the music that Skin has made could never be described as a feel-good lovefest. Blistering, yes, but loved-up? She furrows her peroxided eyebrows. 'But people identify with anger. People live in the city; just trying to get around - getting to this interview on time - it's stressful, man. And we're not in a soppy time - the 21st century. The 60s were a soppy time; after that, soppiness kinda died.' There's an intense restlessness to Skin - she sits on the edge of her seat, constantly shifting. She has a barely contained physical frenzy, as if she's ready to leap up into a stage dive at any moment. 'I don't identify with loving music,' she says, eyes burning. 'I identify with music that makes me want to get up and do something, that has passion, positive anger, energy. Silly pop songs which go, "love, love, love" - they're boring. It's unrealistic and insincere. I'm sure people have "love" moments, but it's not a very loving time, is it? Just look at the world and how we're dealing with each other.' But hers isn't all 'music to smash your bedroom up by'. Lyrically, the sweeping political jingoism of Skunk Anansie days seems to have been replaced by personal concerns, and the bruised, introspective howl of Fleshwounds has given way to joyful defiance in Fake Chemical State. 'When I was writing Fleshwounds,' she explains, 'I shut myself away. It was the fallout from the Skunk Anansie split, and there was someone I was really in love with, and that ended. Doing Fleshwounds really healed me.' 'This album couldn't be more opposite. Whereas Fleshwounds was a massive internal haemorrhage, this album's more like a naughty disco child!' Skin's been a good-time girl over the last couple of years while writing Fake Chemical State, and it shows. She spent a lot of time in her homes in Monaco and Ibiza, and there're definite sun-soaked, hedonistic parts to this album. 'When I was writing it, I was out all the time, partying, going to gigs, hanging out with friends, having a laugh and shagging. Having fun - which I hadn't done for a while. I'd recovered from all that was happening when I was making Fleshwounds. 'The album title reflects my general high when I wrote the songs - the atmosphere around me,' she grins. 'I was talking to someone and saying, "It's like a chemical state - everyone's off their tits all the time", and I thought, "That's actually a good album title".' These days, Skin seems assured and confident in her work, ready to claim what she's reaped from years of hard graft. 'This is the first album on which I've put my name down as producer. I've had a lot of control. I did so much work off my own bat,' she asserts, 'I just thought, "Great - I'm going to put my name on it". I'd never done that before because it was worth a lot to other people to get their names credited, and not that important to me. Skunk Anansie had big-time producers, so you weren't going to get a co-production credit. But I've always made sure that I had artistic control.' There have been a few industry struggles over the years, though. 'You have to train the people you work with not to just go ahead and do stuff without asking you. It's hard work - and that's a positive thing. It's important to battle for things creatively, to not let things go, especially for someone like me, who's very different from a lot of other artists out there. People don't get me, so I've had to fight a lot more.' Occupying a unique position as a black, queer female singer in an electro-metal group, Skin broke new ground, blasting down the walls between musical marketing categories. Industry and press sometimes didn't quite know what to make of her. She felt this particularly strongly when Skunk Anansie were in America. 'An executive of one record company went on for ten minutes about how the head of A& R of the R& B and Urban section was the most amazing guy, and how wonderful it would be for us to work with him. And I couldn't get a word in to say, "We don't play black urban music; we play rock - which is black music; it's just not the black music you're talking about".' Skin has an axe to grind with the British black press. 'I get a lot of coverage in the gay press, the female press - that's great - but the black press? Not so much, really. I think black people can be our own worst enemies. There's a lot of internalised racism. A lot of people are so strong about black issues, but if you're not in the hip-hop scene, you're seen as a bit of a coconut. I've had that before. But it's not my fucking problem, you know?' She shrugs and laughs. 'Get with the programme, guys. Embrace all types of blackness, not just blackness that's easy to be embraced.' And yet her credentials should mean she'd be celebrated. She was Brixton-born and raised and fed on a steady diet of reggae, but along the line she branched out and found her own musical path, combining an vast range of influences: 'My album goes from Zeppelin to White Stripes, from Whitney Houston to the fucking Stooges.' She's currently back home at her mum's in Brixton while she looks for a new house to buy in London. 'It's fantastic. Nothing's changed in my mum's house. It's like walking into a time warp. My mum's even started calling me Deborah again,' giggles Skin, aka Deborah Ann Dyer. 'She's always called me Skin, until this fucking week! I think she still thinks I'm 14. But mum's great - she's allowed to call me Deborah.' She rolls her eyes affectionately. 'I don't care what she calls me, as long as it's something nice.' Fourteen years old she ain't - it's been a fair few years since Skin first blasted her way onto our stages. I ask her age; she's cagey at first, then tells me she's 43, lets me look suitably shocked for a couple of beats, breaks into peals of laughter and says, 'Ha! Had you there. 'Course I'm not 43.' She sighs, tells me her real age, and gets me to swear it won't be published. 'You can say 30-something. Women get judged for their age so much. It'll be in the front of every article. You say it, and then everybody says it. It's like, I know how old Madonna is. I don't know how old David Bowie is, or Mick Jagger. I don't know how old any of the men artists that I really like are. But I know Kylie's age. 'Once women get to a certain age, we're not supposed to be doing music. I've heard people say about the Madonna video, Hung Up: "She's got two kids, she shouldn't be in a leotard", and I say, "Why the fuck not? She looks better than you do". Why should women's behaviour be restricted? 'So, now I have a political stance about not telling people my age. I'm actually very proud of it. I feel great, and I look good for my age - but no, I'm not telling everybody. Women should stop giving away their age. People get obsessed about it.' Ok, change tack. Does she have a sense of 'arriving', after 11 years in the business? 'It's interesting, because now,' she says, a peaceful and more co-operative look smoothing her face, 'I do feel like I'm standing on solid concrete for the first time in my career. I've been standing on a lot of quicksand until now - I never sank, though - but now I understand myself as an artist. I really understood what my role was in Skunk Anansie, but since the band split up five years ago, it wasn't until the end of 2005 that I felt I had a strong sense of who I was musically - individually. I have my own sound now, and it's this album.' The dodgy sausage sarnie has been reduced to a curling crust; Skin is replenished and ready to rehearse. Several bars of one of the album's catchy riffs ring out from the studio. 'Gotta go,' she says, springing up to greet her band. She turns to me and smiles. 'You know what? I have a really strong feeling that I've come to a point where I've made the album that I've always wanted to make.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=534 When you can order a Russian bride with your weekly Tesco shopping from the comfort of your living room, it's easy to forget that there was ever a world without the internet. By LOTTE JEFFS Before Google, if you needed a fact or figure, you made a packed-lunch and went to the library. Before Gaydar, if you needed a girlfriend you took out a personal ad or you did some serious groundwork. These days, cyberspace has transformed the way we look for love, sex and even friendship. Now, not many women who 'WOULD LIKE TO MEET F 18-80 FOR COUNTRY WALKS, MAYBE MORE' advertise it on the back page of the local newspaper. Instead, their carefully constructed one-pound-per-word sentence has become a stream of consciousness on a dating website. But as much as it's made meeting like-minded lesbians easier, internet dating is beleaguered with a whole new set of issues which make you wonder if it hasn't just complicated your love life even further. If you can bear trawling through page after page of Bridget Jones-inspired escapades, as a 'bi-curious' straight girl dates a series of guys before having a threesome and going for dinner with a Japanese bisexual, then realising that 'there comes a point when a girl needs a big cock to play with' after all, Diaries of an Internet Lover - Virgin Books, February 2006 - by Dawn Porter gives a great insight into the highs and lows of looking for love on the internet. We assume it's solely a queer phenomenon but, according to Porter, heteros are just as keen on pick-and-click relationships as the rest of us. As Diaries of an Internet Lover confirms, the anonymity of meeting people on the internet may be part of the appeal, but it's also a huge part of the problem. 'Yes, there are horror stories', writes Porter, 'but it can be very safe and legit if you're savvy and judicious about who you meet'. No matter how 'savvy' Jill, a 33-year-old from Brighton, was, however, nothing could prepare her for the date from hell: 'I'd been talking to Saz on a chat room for about a month. We were in a similar predicament about coming out at work, so we helped each other through a hard time. I'd seen her photo and I can't say I fancied her, but I had no reason to believe she wanted to be more than friends. We both lived in Brighton, so I agreed to meet her for a coffee. Saz had been messaging things like, 'Cant w8 to c u sweetie', which kind of made my skin crawl. When I saw her in person, the first thing I noticed was her size. She was enormous, something I couldn't tell from the photo, and as soon as I entered the cafe, she bounded over to me and gave me a violent hug. I tried to make harmless small talk, but she had other ideas. She handed me a huge bouquet of flowers and told me she loved me. It was so embarrassing! I'm much more careful about who I choose to talk to now, and I'll only meet someone if I'm really serious about them'. As soon as I entered the cafe, she bounded over to me and gave me a violent hug. She handed me a huge bouquet of flowers and told me she loved me. It was so embarrassing' So, how do you know anyone is really who they say they are online, and how do you steer clear of those people in cyber space that you'd go out of your way to avoid in the real world? First, you can tell a lot about a person by their choice of photo. Beware of anyone who's uploaded a symbolic representation of themselves - animal/ cartoon character/ body part. This could mean they're either hideously deformed or in possession of some bizarre notions about personality counting for more than looks - either way, they're time-wasters. Also, be wary of those who use their profile as a confessional - revealing all about themselves, and then some. Answering 'rather not say' to everything won't work in your favour, but a measured approach will mean you come across as dark, mysterious and far more desirable. Don't tell people your life story online and don't go on dates with girls who do. You meet up, and she'll either regale you with anecdotes that were only vaguely amusing the first time, or you'll realise you exhausted all conversational topics in an intense evening of online banter. Always hold something back, and save your most interesting stories for when you meet in person. And don't agree to meet up with a woman just because you feel sorry for her - it's a recipe for disaster, as Jenni, a 25-year-old from Essex, knows only too well: 'She said she needed to talk to someone in person, and, from chatting to her online, I thought I could help. She insisted I meet her in her car. As soon as I got in I could smell alcohol on her breath. She wanted to take me back to her place to talk, and I stupidly agreed. Her house was in a real state - there were bottles everywhere. When she offered me a drink I felt I couldn't say no, so I ended up getting really drunk and sleeping with her, which was the worst thing I could have done. I'd got myself tangled up in this woman's problems, and had just made them ten times worse'. But it's not all doom and gloom. You can safely assume that 90 per cent of the women you meet on the net are who they say they are, and while many may not match your specific requirements, people don't generally have any malicious intent. Anna, a 16-year-old from London, thanks sites like My Space for introducing her to other young, gay girls she'd never have met at school: 'I've found friends and girlfriends online and I've never had any problems. You can tell if someone's dodgy by little things they say that don't add up. If it wasn't for chatting online, I'd feel pretty isolated'. Amy, a 43-year-old from Birmingham, also has a heart-warming tale: 'I met my fiancée, Yvonne, online', she says. 'We had such an intense relationship, instant messaging every night for about two months. When we finally met up, the chemistry was amazing. We felt like we really knew each other. We've been together for three years now, and we plan to get married in June'. Common sense may not always save you from getting embroiled in a worldwide web of other people's issues, but there are some simple things you can do to avoid meeting cyber-creeps. For a start, as 'Bowlegs' on Gaydargirls warns: 'Never browse chatrooms when you're pissed - you can still be blinded by beer goggles online.' And, finally, to Dawn Porter, whose good, bad and bi-curious blind dates have made bestselling chick-lit: 'I strongly recommend internet dating to anyone wanting to spread their social wings, but it's a commitment and a tiring mission'. THE TEAM BEHIND GAYDARGIRLS KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT SAFE SURFING: When chatting online Don't give out your primary email address, home address, telephone number or work details. You might be able to verify a picture by asking them to send another. Photos which seem too professional may have been downloaded off the internet. Find out your employer's policy on internet use before using lesbian dating sites at work. When meeting someone Arrange to meet in a busy public place, or with friends. Don't rely on the other person for transport - then you can leave whenever you want. Let someone know who you're meeting and where. Don't feel pressurised into doing anything you don't want to. Should things get out of hand, don't hesitate to report it to the police. They'll be more understanding than you think. Where the girls are gaydargirls gingerbeer br.divamag.co.uk/ultimatebb.cgi lesbianpersonals http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=533 With pole dancers now a fixture in many lesbian bars, are dykes experiencing sexual liberation or are we, as a new book claims, the new 'female chauvinist pigs'? By LOUISE CAROLIN It reminded me first of a fairground, the blaze of coloured lights and swirling tunes that filled the tiny basement room. I felt the same familiar rush of excitement and fear, my oldest pre-sexual thrill closing its grip on my insides. The space was tightly crammed with high-backed cinema-seats in rows; on the small stage two slim, semi-naked girls were showing off their moves. We slid into some empty seats. The dancers continued their routine, swinging their lithe, sinuous bodies from the three chrome poles that framed the stage, long legs spinning scarily just above our heads, their platform shoes an alarming Lucite blur. Loose was the first UK lesbian strip club to operate regularly from an established sex industry venue, Sunset Strip on Dean Street, Soho. It had developed from a night held at the nearby Candy Bar and soon became very popular with a cross-section of London dykes that included everyone from media hipsters to jaded clubbers and wide-eyed naifs. We were all ages, and the crowd was significantly more racially diverse than most other London lesbian clubs. Each week we picked our way carefully down the steep staircase and pushed through the door at the bottom into the busy space, lining the back wall when all seats were filled, purchasing our photocopied 'Loose Dollars' from the MC, watching eagerly for our favourite girls: elegant, imperious Alexis, of the bum-skimming dark-red ponytail; bouncy, gymnastic Cheryl; Amazonian Florida with her nursey costume and endless legs. During the months between October 1999 and April 2001, the atmosphere of the club changed noticeably. The unfamiliar and initially awkward exchange between dancer and punter became a fluid interaction, relaxed regulars setting the tone for first-time visitors. We learnt to catch a dancer's eye and wait for her approach, making a little show of tucking the tip into her G-string, aware that we were momentarily part of the act. We grinned if they flashed us some pink, keeping eye contact. The rules forbade touching but when Tiger climbed into someone's lap or Serenity landed an unexpected smacker on a punter's mouth, we started to suspect that we were getting a different treatment from the men. Soon the physical boundaries between dancers and punters began to disappear. And then the authorities found out and closed it down The girls told TV documentary-makers that they liked dancing for women because we appreciated their skill and artistry, but it was more than that. The high number of regulars and the playful dynamic between dancers and audience created a unique environment. Before long the physical boundaries between dancers and punters began to disappear; we were all in the show. And then the authorities found out and closed it down. Now the Candy Bar has its own striptease licence and the show is back, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights. But the lesson's been learned - there's strictly no touching now. And in the last five years, there's been a nipple-tassle revolution. Seems like every dyke bar's sprouted a chrome pole or two - no night's complete without a topless dancer on the stage. Recently DIVA was contacted by Hot Girl Entertainment, a new women-run business that's launching the first-ever lap-dancing night with all-black erotic entertainers and a 'cool, urban' vibe. Lesbians, they tell us, will be very welcome at their place. While it's always nice to be invited, it's one thing to enjoy the spectacle of half a dozen limber lovelies in the comfort of a women-only space, but in a large, mixed club how will we know that the majority audience of heterosexual gents don't see us as part of the spectacle - unpaid participants in their lesbian fantasy? Being 'part of the act' in a room-full of other dykes is different to providing 'exxxtra' sexy colour to a basically straight club. And where has the idea come from that lesbians - of all people! - are willing to pay for access to naked lady-flesh? Not so long ago, we were considered more likely to picket outside strip joints than settle down for the show within. Obviously, the success of nights like Loose has changed not just the face of lesbian entertainment, but also the way that gay girls are perceived in the wider world. We're not only a market for lipstick these days; we're a market for the sex industry. But it's not just lesbians - 'Stripper Chic', as Allison Fenterstock calls it in her contribution to Flesh For Fantasy: Producing and Consuming Exotic Dance, is all around us, permeating mainstream culture: from Britney and Beyoncé's classic stripper moves to Hollywood films like Striptease and Showgirls, and the inexplicable popularity of the thong-stripper kit now available at M& S. American journalist Ariel Levy finds all this deeply worrying. In her book, Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, she suggests that this wide-scale acceptance of what she terms the 'raunch culture' is inherently sexist and woman-hating. We're being duped into replicating the conventions of the sex industry as if they were an authentic rendition of 'liberated' female sexuality - we're imitating an imitation instead of exploring our own sexual realities. She has a point. Listening to me describe the evolving go-go netherworld of Loose in 2001, my friend Sam commented thoughtfully that we have no idea what a lesbian public sex culture might look like. Well, we still don't. Much as I loved Loose, it was, right down to the venue, really a copycat exercise, with us girls grabbing an experience the boys already had. So how different was it? I asked Crystal, a former stripper, who has managed the Candy Bar's erotic dance revues since 1999: 'When Loose launched I was running the Sunset Strip,' she explained. 'I chose the Loose girls based on their level of skill and dancing style. Lesbian audiences don't want fake sex; women don't stare at the crotch like men do. I picked the best entertainers, the girls with great stage personas, good pole tricks and nice outfits.' She made a deliberate effort to present an on-stage ethnic mix, reflecting the Loose clientele, which in turn reflected the R& B tunes the DJ played and the diversity of London lesbian life. 'Black girls can have a harder time getting work,' she told me. 'Some clubs only want fake tits, blonde hair.' Tattoos and short or 'funky-coloured' hair are no bar to Crystal's showgirls, either. She maintains that not only is the experience of stripping for women different, lesbians experience strip shows differently. 'Women get different things from it. Some enjoy it as titillating pop entertainment: there's music, there's a buzz, there's a girl spinning round a pole. Others come with a girlfriend and it's a cheeky turn-on, like dressing up for sex or using a toy in the bedroom. Women don't really come to strip clubs to feel horny; it's more of a little buzz. They don't perve like men do. I've never see a woman have a wank in a club!' What about those who object to attending a strip show on principal? 'Some women think we're doing the wrong thing. Maybe they have preconceived ideas of what they're going to see, or how they'll feel - inadequate, uncomfortable or exploitative. Often when they see the show they don't feel so bad. There'll always be someone who objects to what we do and call it exploitation.' And is it? 'No, not here.' Crystal catalogues the abuses strippers are subject to: tiny, dirty changing rooms, stage fees paid to the house, stupid rules, petty fines. 'When Candy Bar got a striptease licence, I said, "I want it done up like a place I'd like to work". There are proper changing rooms here. The girls earn good money for two or three hours' work.' But there are elements of the trade that bother her, such as the current fashion for Spearmint-Rhino-style lap-dance venues, where dancers 'hustle' or bargain with clients to set a price for a private dance, a practice that blurs into prostitution when abused. 'I started topless dancing at 20, which was young then. These days, a hundred 18- and 19-year-olds turn up at the clubs each week, and they can sack five girls a night because there'll be another 20 on the doorstep in the morning,' Crystal claims, confirming Levy's theory that raunch culture is persuading more and more young women that it's acceptable - even liberating - to ditch their bras and spin around a pole for tips. Kelly, 28, is a former Loose patron who loves pole-dancing so much she installed a pole in her bedroom. 'You feel sexy doing it,' she tells me. 'You work out your own little routine, copy a few moves.' She'd like to learn more, but the classes are expensive. For Kelly, it's a purely private thing: 'I'd never dance at a club. I don't have the confidence for that.' A glass of Champagne, some high heels, her pole and her girlfriend - it's part of her sex life now. Pole-dancing isn't like older traditional forms of erotic dance, such as raqs sharqi (belly-dancing) or burlesque, in which a fuller figure is a bonus. Classes advertised at gyms emphasise the 'have fun and keep fit' aspect of the dance, but you can forget professional topless pole-dancing if you're much bigger than a B-cup, for obvious reasons. So, is the burgeoning lesbian love affair with the stripper a natural and empowering forward move? Or are we, as Levy would have it, just female chauvinist pigs, objectifying other women in the name of our own sexual liberation? Perhaps, when lesbians are allowed to be both sexy and political, that will be real liberation. In the meantime, it's whatever turns you on. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=532 For some people, feeling unable to control aspects of their lives or sexuality can turn into self-hatred. For a few, self-harming can be a way to cope. Author CAROLYN SMITH talks about her own experiences and meets others who explain why cutting seems the only way to express difficult emotions. Chances are you know someone who self-harms, but whether it's through cutting, scratching or burning the skin, chances are you won't know they do it. No-one knew I'd self-harmed - you'd be surprised how easy it is to conceal. A long-sleeved jumper soon becomes an intimate, inanimate accomplice. Best of all was cutting my legs; they were always covered up. I hid the self-harm because I didn't know what I'd say if people asked. I had no idea there were words for what I was doing. Each self-harmer cuts or wounds for their own reasons, and each time the painful incision may be triggered by a myriad of causes. During an interview about my book, Cutting it Out, I was asked why I'd cut for the first time, as if I could get all the complex feelings into one neat, quotable sentence. I started cutting when I was in a relationship I didn't know how to get out of. I didn't have the courage to say straight out that I wanted to leave. There was an accumulation of many feelings; pent-up anger from the past clashed with emotions in the present, and it all became too much. I think I'd had depression for a long time, perhaps since my early teens, way before the relationship started to turn sour, and I loathed myself for too many different reasons to list here. The main memory I have is one of shock as I watched the blood drip round my forearm to the floor beneath. I didn't know what to do; I couldn't believe what I'd just done, and how much better it had made me feel - the whoosh of release as I watched the razor slice across my arm. The sight of the blood made my knees tremble and I sat and watched the wound for a long time, touching it every now and again to keep it bleeding. I was 25 when it first happened. Should I have known better? Was I attention-seeking? Or neither? Perhaps I could have spoken to someone before I got to the stage of cutting my own flesh, but often self-harmers report feelings of loneliness, of having no-one to turn to and feeling no-one's interested in what they have to say. When I first realised what I was doing, I needed to know everything about it. I discovered an insightful book called A Bright Red Scream in which the author, Marilee Strong, talks about Annie, a 14-year-old student who started cutting after being bullied. She snapped one day at school and, with a safety pin, carved the single word 'D-I-E' into her forearm. Her self-harm was a secret that was hers alone. It gave her a sense of control over her body and her life. No-one could hurt her again as much as she hurt herself. Everyone remembers their first time. I remember that I didn't know what to do; I couldn't believe what I'd just done - and how much better it made me feel My self-harm stemmed from low self-esteem. I hated myself and the situation I was in. I'd made a mess of a relationship, hurt people I never meant to, and didn't know how to make things better. Events were out of control and I could feel myself getting increasingly anxious. No-one else seemed to notice - but I was good at hiding my emotions. The break-up was my fault and I didn't think I was worthy of anyone's attention, so, like Annie, self-harm became my secret. I've always hated people worrying about me, so emotional secrecy has always been second nature. Outwardly, I was calm and, ironically at the time, I was overlooked for promotion because I appeared 'too laid-back'. How wrong people can be. The first reason for cutting faded and became unimportant. What resulted was that once it had taken hold, I couldn't stop. Cutting became my only way of coping with the world and what it kept throwing at me - starting a new job, moving to London and living by myself, and the sudden death of my father. I fell into that strange place where I thought I was on my own, but had I looked above the clouds I'd have seen plenty of people in a similar position. The Lesbian Information Service, based in Calderdale, UK, published a history of research into lesbians that included self-harm. Back in 1992, 43 per cent of younger lesbians said they'd deliberately self-harmed. In 2000, the figure dropped to 33 per cent. This figure is still shocking, but in reality it probably doesn't scratch the surface - after all, they asked fewer than 100 people. Had I been asked when I was 18 whether I'd ever self-harmed, I would've laughed and said of course not. Seven years on however, I self-harmed for the first time. My point is that self-harm is self-harm, no matter what your age. Nonetheless, the Mental Health Foundation rightly points out that 'age is an important factor for lesbians and gay men, since young people who are in the process of coming to terms with their sexuality are particularly vulnerable to isolation and stigma'. But for me it wasn't about my sexuality; self-harm is all-pervading, as the American Psychiatrist Armando Favazza discovered when he surveyed 500 university students and found that one in eight had at least once in their lives deliberately harmed themselves. People frequently claim that self-harm and attention-seeking are synonymous. If I'd wanted attention I could have dyed my hair pink, or, God forbid, started wearing skirts. Jess, a fellow self-harmer I met through the National Self-Harm Network, says that other people interpreted her self-harm as a manipulative bid for attention: 'I still get that reaction today, and I wonder how arrogant someone has to be to imagine that I'd risk life and limb to make them notice me,' she confides. Incidentally, Jess isn't the kind of person you'd call a wallflower or 'loser'. The 29-year-old Londoner earns her pretty thick crust as a successful freelance computer programmer. As for me, sooner or later the turmoil inside was bound to boil over, but I'd never have guessed in a million years it would have erupted as self-harm. As with many self-harmers, it started off in a quiet way. I'd scratch keys down my arm, but as the eruption took hold it progressed to razor blades. This sounds quite stark, but I don't remember consciously thinking I needed to up the ante to blades - it just happened. Jess talks of a similar escalation: 'Almost immediately I was cutting daily, usually with razor blades, but I'd use whatever was handy - a drinks can ring-pull or a piece of broken glass would do.' In a strange way, cutting became a way of having my own space. Nobody knew; it was something only I did - the wounds and scars were mine alone. Yet the relief was only temporary and, as Annie tells Marilee Strong, 'ultimately hollow'. So why carry on? If the self-harm doesn't get rid of the nastiness or emptiness inside, why cut? Many, including myself, take on an identity of 'cutter'. In Favazza's survey, 71 per cent considered their self-mutilating behaviour to be an addiction. In my book, Cutting it Out, I describe self-harm as a lot like smoking. When you take the first drag of a cigarette in the morning, it's wonderful. It calms you down. If you try to stop, all you can think about is lighting up just once, and when you do, you know you'll light up another after that. Self-harm's like that. It's a tumbling spiral out of which many self-harmers can't see a way, and in which for five years I've been travelling - sometimes way down at the bottom, sometimes climbing my way out. On good days, I've been standing on the edge looking down, but often falling back in. It was my way of screaming, silently, so no-one would know. Self-harm is the product of what's happening behind the scenes. People never self-harm for the hell of it; it's the problems and issues behind it that need addressing, and admitting I needed attention was the first step to recovery. I felt very lucky that my partner was supportive when I first told her and strong enough to be there for me when I needed her, yet gave me the space when it was obvious I needed to cut. Because I didn't stop overnight. Repetitive self-harmers develop a fixed identity around their cutting. Cutting's what I did and I got anxious when I couldn't. Marilee describes the feeling well when she says: 'They come to believe that if they were prevented from cutting they would fall apart, go crazy, disappear, cease to exist'. However, the relationship with my partner was shifting; she was becoming more and more like my counsellor. Something had to change, so I took a deep breath and went to see a therapist who'd been recommended to me. For someone who was used to keeping her emotions under wraps the idea of a talking therapy filled me with dread, but now I wonder how I ever lived without it. It gave me my life back, it gave us our relationship back, and I bow down in an 'I'm not worthy' way to my therapist. It was hard work trusting a stranger, but it was worth the struggle, and the journey therapy has taken me on was exhilarating and fascinating, if not a bit scary. It gave me another way of venting my anger. I hated it at times, but that was part of the process. In the end, it gave me a voice and made me realise it's ok to be heard. Jess describes a comparable feeling after finding a therapist who didn't judge her self-harming; 'She's able to deal with my self-harm. She's never demanded that I stop or made any kind of ultimatum. It took me a couple of years to begin to learn to express my feelings in words; I'd numbed myself by cutting for so long that I had no vocabulary for my emotions.' Another source of support for self-harmers is NSHN, the National Self-Harm Network. This is an online forum where people can get support, vent their anger, and talk to others in times of crisis. I've met people of all ages through the forum who have all sorts of reasons for self-harming. I'm amazed by some of those I talk to, and feel quite humbled at some of the stories I hear. NSHN is survivor-led, which means it's the members who support each other. Many members proudly display how long it is since they last self-harmed, whether four days or four years. It's a way of showing others in crisis that it can be overcome. So where do I fit in the four days to four years? All I'm saying is, somewhere in between. I'm tentatively beginning to wonder whether I can upgrade myself from 'recovering self-harmer' to 'ex-self-harmer', but I don't want to tempt fate. A Bright Red Scream is highly readable, although written with specialists in mind, and was a great source of comfort when I first discovered it. Among the jargon are powerful stories in which self-harmers describe their ritualistic methods; at some level, it was a window into my own story. And what became of Annie? She went on to start a PhD and for the last three years she's been free of cutting. I'll leave the last word to Jess: 'Cutting is always about surviving and maintaining life, not ending it.' Some names have been changed. If you're worried about someone self-harming and need to know how to help, or are a self-harmer and need information on how to get a therapist, there are further sources of help at the back of my book. You could also check out the NSHN website which has a forum for those who're worried about a loved one who's self-harming: www.nshn.co.uk References: A Bright Red Scream: self-mutilation and the language of pain by Marilee Strong, Virago (2000) Bodies under Seige by Armando Favazza, John Hopkins University Press (1997) Lesbians, Gays and Suicide; research findings by Jan Bridget. www.lesbianinformationservice.org (available online) Mental Health Foundation: www.mentalhealth.org.uk (available online) * Cutting it Out: A Journey through Psychotherapy and Self-Harm by Carolyn Smith is published by Jessica Kingsley, £12.99. Available at all good bookshops, or order online via www.jkp.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=531 Sarah Waters talks sex, love and jealouysy, and disges on her four year struggle to bring 1940s London to life. Interview by HELEN SANDLER The top floor of a 1790s house seems a suitable residence for a historical novelist, and Sarah Waters' South London flat is satisfyingly garret-like. Its small rooms are crammed with books and quirky old decoration: a glittery picture of the Madonna and Child above the fireplace; a fringed lampshade that might have come out of a séance scene from her spooky second novel, Affinity. The writer herself sits with a cup of tea on the sofa. Although articulate and chatty, her speech is diluted by the words 'like' and 'you know', as if she may not be entitled to hold a strong opinion. When she relaxes, she tucks up her feet and releases the sense of humour familiar from the books, from Tipping the Velvet onwards. And she has earned the right to relax. Her fourth novel, The Night Watch - reviewed on page 56 - is about to come out when we meet, and it is one of her best. Set in London during and after World War II, it moves backwards from 1947 to 1944 and finally to 1941. 'That structure has always struck me as a way to capture the tremendous poignancy of relationships - that they start out so hopefully and often end up so dismally,' says Waters. She came to this novel with three characters, Helen, Julia and Kay, two of whom were a couple having difficulties with jealousy. 'But I couldn't see what would happen. And then I suddenly thought, "What if I made this into a backwards story?"' Within 30 seconds she had jotted down the plot, but trying to write the whole book around these characters proved claustrophobic. Fortunately there were others waiting in the wings - Helen's colleague Viv and Viv's brother Duncan - and the story expanded to include their pasts and their crises. The backwards chronology made perfect sense. 'When you meet people in life,' Waters points out, 'you don't want to know about their future, you want to know about their past and what's brought them to where they are.' 'That backwards structure has always struck me as a way to capture the poignancy of relationships - that they start out so hopefully and often end up so dismally' She was alarmed by how much there was to learn about the period, and spent several months on research. Her parents were children during the war - mother in Pembrokeshire, Wales, where Sarah grew up; father in Leytonstone, East London - and were able to fill in some of the gaps. Her dad described his working-class family's kitchen, with a bath in the corner for which his father had made a cover to use as a work surface. 'It sounds Dickensian now,' says Waters, 'but it's only 60 years ago.' This wasn't just a historical exercise. The 39-year-old author needed a setting that would allow her to explore her own emotions more closely than she could in her Victorian novels. 'Because it's that bit closer to us, I could identify with the women and the lesbian subculture,' she says. 'So I feel there's more of me and my friends in there. I wanted to explore jealousy because I'd had phases of jealousy and had a horrified fascination with it. But that ended up being a relatively small bit of the book and the characters just became themselves.' Still, she expected to identify most with Helen, the jealous one, but became irritated with her. Instead, it was ambulance-driving Kay who ended up closest to her creator. 'She's like my inner-butch,' she laughs. 'My idealism went into her, just as my teenage sulkiness went into Duncan.' Asked if she understands jealousy any better now, she sighs. 'No, I'm just sick to death of thinking about it.' She had to live with the sadness of the book over the four years it took to write, but there is also a lot of excitement in there. 'I've become more interested, from Fingersmith onwards, in the different ways you can tell a story,' she explains. 'As a reader, or watching films, I can still get very excited about narratives that surprise you. That's what keeps me wanting to write.' The thrills in The Night Watch arise partly from illicit relationships, and there's a heightened eroticism as a result. Waters' girlfriend of four years, magazine sub-editor Lucy Vaughan, was the first to point this out. 'Lucy feels the book is ruder than the others because there's an intensity to it,' says the author. 'It did feel different from the sex I've written before, about younger women coming to it for the first time. That's always been fun to do, but this was about desire in people who know what they want.' Her only worry was whether the heterosexual sex was believable. She has experience in that department but, she laughs, 'so long ago it hardly counts.' But her agent and editor are both straight and haven't raised any objections. 'I always enjoy writing about sex,' says Waters. 'It's so easy to make it clichéd or corny; it's a challenge to talk about it in a way that feels authentic, but fresh.' There's less sex in the published version of The Night Watch than in previous drafts. The author has cut scenes where Kay picked up young women, because they slowed down the story. She has even cut a chapter at the end - from which she read in York at 2004's Libertas Festival - where all the lesbian characters were at the same party. She lowers her voice dramatically: 'The Lost Chapter! It's all gone!' But why does she keep choosing periods when lesbian lives were hidden? 'It's historical difference that's always attracted me,' she explains. 'I know people will say: "It's easy to write about lesbians in corsets; it's all nostalgia". I think they're absolutely right. That's why they've made it into mainstream TV -' Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith have both had the full BBC costume treatment '- but it's never been an agenda of mine to make lesbianism acceptable by dressing it up in a petticoat. I want to explore a world that's fascinating because it's different.' There's a moment in The Night Watch where the author seems to be joking with her readers about the leap forward in time from the previous books. Helen doesn't want to be seen embracing another woman in public and is chastised with the words, 'It's not the bloody 19th century'. Was Waters laughing when she wrote that? 'I was a bit, yes,' she answers, chuckling naughtily. 'But there was a serious side to it. In the 1940s, the Victorians and Edwardians were the old-fashioned people that nobody wanted to be like.' There's another moment that may be an in-joke: when Helen's looking at her girlfriend Julia's photo in the Radio Times and thinking of all the grubby fingers of the public pawing over it, never knowing the real woman behind the famous crime writer. This reads like a reference to Waters' own media profile. The adjustment to her increasing fame began when her third novel, Fingersmith, came out. The shy, modest author realised that, from then on, a large part of her work would have little to do with writing. She'd be giving interviews, fielding inquiries, going on tour. 'It freaked me out.' The Night Watch took longer to write because there were more demands on her, and now things have stepped up again. 'Virago are planning a bigger publicity campaign, and I'm getting more requests. Just finding a path through those requests takes time and energy. If I'm feeling fragile or tired, that can be overwhelming.' Asked if there's anything she enjoys about the hubbub, she answers, 'It's nice to feel in demand. But I'm always imagining the time when it'll stop and I'll be saying to Lucy [comedy wistful voice], "Do you remember when I used to get 32 requests an hour?"' She's about to embark on a mammoth world tour, despite severe reservations. 'It's amazing how much pressure publishers can exert on you. The nicest kind of pressure - or maybe I'm just too willing to please. I'm too obedient.' She laughs before remembering what it's like. 'I've been in tears in all the major cities of Europe, wandering along going, "Why am I doing this? This is horrible".' I suggest she needs a clone to carry out her engagements. 'Yes, like Monty -' General Montgomery had a double during World War II '- or several.' As an article in The Independent has recently made her out to be rolling in dough and accumulating property, we discuss her financial affairs. The books and the foreign rights bring in a steady income, and she's been able to buy a second flat nearby, where Vaughan lives. 'It solved an awful lot of problems. Lucy wasn't especially happy where she was living; she was miles away, and we weren't at a point where we wanted to move in together. And I certainly didn't want to leave my flat, which I love living in on my own, part of the time. It's been a really good solution, although it won't be forever.' She anticipates that they'll live together one day, but has no interest in a Civil Partnership. In the meantime, she spends weekends at Lucy's and often a night during the week, and the flat is also home to their trio of cats. Sarah's two are Tink and Trilby, while Lucy's is called Atkins. 'That's after Yvonne Atkins in Bad Girls, I'm ashamed to say. A thoroughly lesbian household.' Despite her newfound financial security and a string of awards, Waters is still nervous about money and career. 'I worried when I didn't have enough money and now I worry that I've got too much - that I'll get used to it and then when it dries up, I'll be out in the street with a tin can.' But then, she's quite an anxious person, especially when the writing is going badly, as it frequently did with The Night Watch. 'It was awful, and it spilled over into my relationship with Lucy and cast a cloud over everything. And then the next day it would start to go well again and I'd think, "Oh, everything's fine".' Once she's deeply into writing a novel, that vision takes over. 'The anxieties, excitement and pleasures all come from that.' With The Night Watch, the process was harder than ever before, but there's now something reassuring about having come through it. 'I wrenched it from chaos,' says Waters, 'and if I can do that once, then hopefully I can do it again.' If only we can all leave her in peace for long enough to get on with the next one, up in that room of her own. Sarah Waters' all-time media lows * The San Francisco newspaper that thought the character of the Fingersmith baddy, 'Gentleman', fed into gay stereotypes. 'That was quite upsetting. Your own community is much harder on you than anyone else - they have more invested in it.' * The Independent on 'Power Lesbians', depicting Waters as part of a rich coterie of property-tycoon Sapphists, makes her shudder. 'It was a ridiculous article: "Lesbians are so fab these days that they are even Tory MPs". Oohh, no.' * Little Britain: 'I don't want to get into slagging things off, but I don't think it's very funny. It panders to conservative images of all sorts of people, including gay people.' * A piece in The Independent on celebs' fave gadgets, which pictured a doe-eyed Sarah with her Sky+ machine, fuelling remarks from friends about her support for the Murdoch empire. 'But I do love my Sky+.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=470 We are often told that straight older women aren't desirable unless they have the decency to make themselves look younger. But what about us gay girls? MEL STEEL explores the issue 'A man is as old as he's feeling, a woman as old as she looks', wrote the poet and novelist Mortimer Collins over a century ago. The couplet ought to read as quaint Victorian misogyny: in fact, the sentiment's depressingly current. Just stop at any magazine stand and count the 'How to look fab at 40!' features and 'My husband traded me in for a younger model!' confessionals in the glossies. Flick on the TV and count the programmes telling you that you need to look 'Ten Years Younger', possibly by submitting to an Extreme Makeover. Watch almost any movie with a male romantic lead in his 50s, 60s or - if it's Sean Connery - 70s, and estimate the age of his female love interest. She'll be in her 20s, or at most a risqué early 30s. The message is clear: older women aren't fit to be seen, and certainly not as desirable, unless they have the decency to make themselves look younger than they are. 'A woman has the age she deserves', remarked Coco Chanel, somewhat acidly. But Chanel lied about her own age all her life. We like to think that, as lesbians, we've somehow escaped the acid scrutiny of youth-obsessed mainstream culture. We're the Peter Pans of our peers: somehow we 'read' as younger for longer, as if we believe we've been given a collective note from our mums to be excused from the messy, inelegant scrum of female bodies growing old around us. But is it really the same for all of us? Or is the Peter Pan-ish perception of lesbians one that belies a butch's-eye view of the world, of ever-youthful masculinity that has nothing to fear from ageing but a slightly bigger jacket size and distinguished greying at the temples? 'A woman passing as a man looks like a younger man; a man passing as a woman looks like an older woman', remarked queer butch performer Peggy Shaw in her last solo show, A Menopausal Gentleman. 'That's just the way it goes. I keep young by passing, you see. I sacrifice being a woman for youth'. Shaw's portrait of masculinity is a complex and deconstructive one: the flipside of the menopausal gentleman is the butch grandmother, not afraid to reveal herself in all her naked, profoundly vulnerable femininity. Elsewhere, however, the butch's-eye view of the world is less questioning; certainly less chivalrous. Dyke dating websites, message boards and chatrooms routinely betray sentiments indistinguishable those of Mortimer Collins or, for that matter, Viz. 'Fat old butch seeks gorgeous young femme!' advertised one internet hopeful recently - unsuccessfully, we can only hope. Where does this leave the older femme, the woman who chooses not to sacrifice being a woman for youth, whose lesbian gender is expressed through her continual resistance to and reinvention of the idea of femininity? Joan Nestle, now 65, has written perhaps more than anyone of the joys, pains and surprises of growing older as a femme and as a sexual woman over a certain age, and many of us look to her for confirmation and inspiration. But what knowledge can we offer each other? 'A woman passing as a man looks like a younger man' - Peggy Shaw 'I went through a massive crisis as I was going into my early 40s,' says Karen Parker, now 46. 'I just wanted to hide away, to become invisible. I wouldn't wear skirts or dresses for a few years. I think I just realised that I was getting older and didn't know what I had to do to be this older woman I was becoming. I'd always been very flirty and flamboyant, and that just didn't fit with where I was any more. I had to go into a cocoon to figure it all out and be able to come out the other side. During that time, I didn't feel femme because I wasn't engaged in high-maintenance femininity, the performance - that meant "femme" for me. I felt like a woman and a lesbian, but I didn't feel like a femme, and it made me feel like only half a person for a while.' For other women, realising that maybe nobody's looking anyway precipitates or compounds a crisis. The issue of visibility has always been problematic for femmes; but combine 'lesbian femme' with 'older woman' and you're in danger of hosting a party of ghosts. Is it, as Mae West said, better to be looked over than overlooked? Val Johnson, 57, reflects on how she used to take being looked at for granted: 'Until my late 40s, people might turn and look when I walked into a bar, and I wished they wouldn't, even though there was something about the looking that I quite liked. While I was in a relationship, I didn't much notice that anything had changed, but going out single post-53, it feels really different. I'm more self-conscious, too. Now I think, "If I flirt will I look like a fool?"' 'Frankly I don't give a fuck about whether or not my tits look pert in a club full of 20-somethings,' says Jean T, 50. 'What worries me more is the prospect of the deterioration of my body and my physical abilities. I don't feel my age: when I look at someone else who's 50, I still think they're a generation above me. When my hot flushes start, I'll probably choose to think it's my inner child playing with matches. But then, I also have to face the fact that there are some activities I now just can't do, and that's a bit depressing. For example, on my 50th birthday I went snowboarding and ended up being stretchered off with torn ligaments. I couldn't walk for weeks.' 'It is odd,' says Ali Russell, 54. 'In some ways you feel more confident and you know what you'll put up with and what you won't. But subtle things start happening to undermine you - like the rest of the world beginning to dismiss you because of your age. I'm lucky enough to be part of a generation that was militantly feminist in a way previous generations hadn't been. And in some ways that makes me less vulnerable to other people's judgements and classifications. But it also means that it's a surprise when they do get to you. You wonder what's gone wrong - why you feel upset or disturbed by someone's assumptions about you because of your age.' Learning to love our bodies was one of the first lessons taught in the militant feminism school of the 70s, and you can still spot a lesbian feminist of a certain age in a women's spa by the fact that she's naked as a matter of principle. Nonetheless, many women describe a new self-consciousness about their bodies as they change, grow older, and thicken. 'Physically it's hard,' says Val. 'I don't have a flat tummy any more, and no amount of exercise is going to bring that back. The muscle tone has gone. Suddenly, I have lumpy legs, and that makes me embarrassed. Sometimes during sex I worry about being on my hands and knees and my breasts hanging down, and what that looks like. But you just have to deal with that, really - or insist on just having sex on your back!' Even Lois Weaver, 56, queer femme performer and pioneer of the ground-breaking reverse striptease - in which she begins naked on stage and slowly and sexily gets dressed - admits briefly wondering if it was time to cover up. 'I did get reticent a few years ago,' she says. 'But then I met Dixie Evans, an 80-year-old ex-stripper and curator of the Exotic World Burlesque Museum in California, and asked her, "Am I too old to strip?" And she said, "You're never too old to strip! Get your clothes off!" So I've been inspired to go back to it.' Many women I spoke to for this piece described the fear and sorrow of facing a future of old, rather than merely older, age. But far more tangible is a sense of grace and gravitas: a confidence in the world, and a mature sexual power worth celebrating. 'I definitely feel more confidant, more worldly,' says Karen. 'I think an older femme is like a beautiful log-burning fire that has a history - the history of your sexuality. Before, sexuality was much more about your body. Now it's about experience, attitude and wisdom.' Ali is currently enjoying her sexuality not with anyone else, but on her own, through masturbation. 'I have better orgasms now than I've ever had in my life,' she says. 'They last longer, they're more profound, and I can have multiple orgasms, which I never had before. I don't know why: maybe it's the first time I've taken the trouble to find out what I really like and want and need, and to be my own lover. I don't think I saw that as a proper relationship before. I do now, and it feels good.' And renewed curiosity and playfulness is a recurring theme. 'Age has given me the confidence to be more playful,' says Imogen, 58. 'Recently I've found myself flirting with other femmes and with straight women, as well as butches. It's fun: I like taking risks and doing things I wouldn't have done before. I had a period, after coming out of an 11-year relationship, where my libido disappeared. I just didn't feel sexual. But now I feel confident in my sexuality, in my body, in what I look like and how I dress - and I'm delighted at how many younger women seem to be attracted to older women. I love being an older femme. It's just the most wonderful thing. What a gift.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=469 SARAH-JANE talks to the best-selling poet, novelist and playwright We first encountered Jackie Kay in the early 90s when she published her first collection of poems, The Adoption Papers. Based on her experience of being adopted and brought up by a white Scottish couple, it was a tough and tender collection that announced the arrival of a remarkable new voice. Since then, Kay has written extensively for theatre and television, won countless literary awards, and performed her poetry with The Spontaniacs at the Edinburgh Jazz Festival. In 2004, she was invited to sit for Scottish artist Joyce Cairns, and sculptor Michael Snowden fashioned a bronze cast of her head for one of 12 others exhibited in Edinburgh Business Park. She has published several life-affirming poetry collections, including Other Lovers, Off Colour and Two's Company. A regular contributor on Woman's Hour and Radio 4, she's frequently invited to travel round the world to read her challenging and arresting work. In October, she gave a lecture on creating Joss Moody, the extraordinary gay character at the heart of her novel Trumpet at Slovenia's first gay and lesbian conference, and at this year's York Lesbian Arts Festival, her moving reading reduced several women to tears. Sarah-Jane met up with her in her hometown of Manchester to discuss her latest poetry collection, Life Mask and found her as compelling and charismatic as her well-crafted, bittersweet verses. When did you first start writing? Jackie Kay: I've always written. When I was a kid I used to write short stories and poems about war and Apartheid. Now, I tend to write about characters and the things that happen to them. Of course I'm still interested in politics and current affairs, but I don't feel the need to try and tell people what to think or feel anymore. I'd much rather write something that might touch someone on a personal level. There always seems to be a glimmer of hope and humour in your poems, no matter how much pain or complexity your characters are feeling. How long do you usually spend on each one? JK: It varies. Some come to me quite quickly and some are very, very slow. You probably can't tell from reading them, but some poems are rewritten 12 or 13 times before they make it to the publisher. I probably spent a year and a half writing Life Mask, but everything seemed to come together really quickly. Half the time I didn't even know I was writing them; I just kept discovering lines in little black notebooks lying around. In fact, quite a large percentage of that collection was written while I was away with my friend Julia Darling (who's since died). We rented a cottage in the middle of nowhere and we had a wonderful time, writing in the day and reading to each other at night. Is there an autobiographical element to everything you write? JK: I've always been interested in the border country that exists between reality and imagination, and as I've grown older I've become more interested in the idea of ploughing the land that exists between the two. I probably use my own life as a springboard quite a lot, because it's really important to me that my writing has an authentic voice, but I also spend a lot of time and energy creating characters and monologues. There's a story in my next collection, for example, that chronicles a train journey from one end of Russia to the other in the snow. I've never been to Siberia, but I'd like to think the story sounds believable and that someone somewhere will read it and think, 'That happened to me, too'. Life Masks feels like your most personal collection to date, chronicling the break-up of a long-term relationship and the discovery of your birth father in Nigeria. JK: It probably is my most personal book to date; both those things happened at the same time and it was like a mini earthquake. I suppose everyone has at least one or two over the course of their lives, and that was mine. I was initially a little concerned that some of the poems were too revealing, but the people who have read and embraced them have exposed themselves too. A woman at YLAF told me her relationship of 13 years had just broken up in an unexpected way, and she felt like I'd been in her life and written Life Mask especially for her. The book charts the transition from heartbreak and loss to grief and acceptance and, finally, freedom and new love. I like books which take you on a journey and, to me, Life Mask is a journey from darkness to light. People have told me it's very upsetting in parts, but without love, life isn't worth living. When you lose someone you really love, it's like a loss of faith; you lose belief in yourself and in other people. Personally, I'd rather be loved than have money. I'd rather be loved than have two cars. I'd rather be loved... than just about anything. Love shows on peoples' faces. 'There's something extremely sexy about a woman playing butch, of being brave enough to say, "I won't let anyone tell me how to dress or to be"' When did you first become aware you were attracted to girls? JK: When I was very small, probably about nine or ten. I didn't act on my feelings, though, until I was about 17 and started a relationship with the girl next door to me at university. I've written poems about people whose parents have rejected or ignored their sexuality, but my own parents have always been very supportive of my relationships, and I've always felt comfortable with my sexuality. There're still situations where people assume I'm heterosexual because I have a teenage son, but they're few and far between. You released your incredible debut novel Trumpet at the end of the 90s. Was that something you'd wanted to write for a long time? JK: Yes. I first got the idea in 1989 and started writing it around 1994. A lot of people have perceived it as a book about transformation and transgression, but it's really about love and redemption. It doesn't matter to Millie that Joss was born with a woman's body - she sees him as a man because she loves him and that's what he felt he was. You could interpret the book in many different ways. I was really drawn to the idea of someone living as one thing and dying as another. The characters are fictional, but I was definitely inspired by the story of Billy Tipton. Is gender ambiguity something you've experienced? JK: No, I've never felt I wanted to be a man. I've always been quite happy as a woman. I find the whole history of women dressing as men quite fascinating, though. Obviously the idea of a woman playing butch and dressed in a shirt and tie with cufflinks and boxers was considered more radical 100 years ago, but I still think there's something extremely liberating and sexy about it. It's not just the outfit I find exciting either, it's the idea of a woman being brave enough to say, 'I won't let anyone tell me how to dress or how to be'. It takes guts to put yourself out there as an individual and I've always admired people who refuse to toe the line. Have you started work on another adult novel yet? JK: I haven't. I don't like the idea of repeating myself or shooting myself in the foot, and I don't think I'm very good at writing novels, either. I don't think it's my form. Trumpet having been translated into 15 languages and adapted into a successful stage play suggests otherwise. JK: I know. I enjoyed writing it, but also found it quite exhausting. Being a poet, I tend to get a bit precious about every sentence that gets in the way. Ideally, I'd like to be able just to relax and tell the story, like Sarah Waters does. I've had an idea for another novel that I think is quite interesting, so I'll probably write it at some stage, but right now I hate the idea of spending another five years tied to the desk. What can you tell us about your forthcoming book of short stories? JK: It's called Wish I Was Here, and it's about love, loss, jealousy, infidelity and the break down of various relationships. There's a story about a married couple who've stopped speaking to each other, a story about a man who leaves his wife and commits suicide, and another about two women who are in the middle of a break-up. It's a funny, light-hearted book because in my mind tragedy and comedy coexist. When you're crying, you're never too far from laughing, and vice versa. Anything else up your sleeve? JK: At the moment, I'm writing the screenplay of Trumpet for Gurinder Chadha who directed Bend It Like Beckham. I've no idea where it'll be shot, or how they plan to pitch it, but we've talked about things like the music, and apparently Halle Berry has been approached to play one of the lead roles. I'm taking everything I'm told with a pinch of salt because there's still a long way to go and lots of things could go wrong, but I find the whole prospect of seeing my characters brought to life quite exciting. Life Mask is published by Bloodaxe Books http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=468 LOTTE JEFFS went to a hotel in Heathrow for the first UK L Word convention, and spent the night fending off rampant fans Stars of The L Word at a three-day fan convention in a budget Heathrow hotel? Well, it all seemed highly unlikely. As I was driving in circles round Terminal 4, deep in a dark winter blizzard, desperately looking out for the neon glow of the Longford Thistle, the thought that five Hollywood actors would be braving the weather and fag-burned carpets of an airport B& B to spend their weekend with a handful of British dykes seemed like fan fiction gone mad. Starfury Conventions had only advertised the event on L Word websites, so I couldn't help but wonder how many people would go to the trouble and expense of buying a ticket - especially when the small print suggested the pre-arranged celebrity guests might drop out. Expecting a desultory crowd of disappointed lesbians, the first indication that I may have made a huge misjudgement was the hoard of women already spilling out into the hotel's car park, pints in hand and digital cameras at the ready. And I hadn't just underestimated the crowd - it turned out that five of the show's big stars had made the journey especially from LA, and Laurel Holloman, Eric Maibus, Rachel Shelly, Meredith McGeachie and Anne Ramsay - Tina, Tim, Helena, Tanya and Robyn respectively - were now sitting in the makeshift Green Room, eating bags of crisps and waiting to be called on stage for the opening ceremony. I thought I liked The L Word, but I had no idea how vehemently passionate others were about it - the hysteria was indeed overwhelming. As each of the actors made their introductions to the crowd, screams of 'We love you!' drowned out their bemused 'Hellos'. They could have brought out an extra from the pilot episode and fans would still have gone crazy. Although the format of the opening ceremony - staged in a slightly shabby hall that looked like it had seen many a drunken wedding reception - smacked a little of Christmas panto, I had to hand it to the actors for their genuine humility and good grace. The event was run like clockwork by a team of volunteers who were more used to giving up their weekends for sci-fi conventions - the sound engineer's Obi-Wan Kenobi cape and other teamsters' ubiquitous 'fantasy' T-shirts were a give-away. But a large lesbian contingent among them meant they embraced the 'L Event' with gusto, and their relentless enthusiasm made it hard to believe they were all working for free. 'I went nuts when I saw Laurel. The woman is my screensaver, for Christ's sake, and suddenly she's right there' - Ash After the opening ceremony, the lucky first 200 to buy tickets were allowed upstairs for an exclusive meet-and-greet with the stars. It was surreal, watching these figures of airbrushed perfection, radiating celebrity in their designer outfits, circulate a room which wasn't unlike a suburban working men's club, and where not even the double glazing or excited chatter could drown out the 747s as they took to the sky just outside. The enforced mingling felt a little awkward, but the actors worked the room, moving from one gaggle of gob-smacked girls to another. Bev had just had a tête-à-tête with Rachel Shelly: 'I'm still shaking,' she said. Über-fan Ash was following Laurel Holloman around, too scared to talk to her: 'I went nuts when I saw Laurel. I can only put that feeling up there with seeing my godson being born. The woman is my screensaver, for Christ's sake, and suddenly she's right there.' An hour of small talk with the stars was followed by the event's first 'disco' - in my mind, only acceptable when preceded by the word 'school' or '80s''. Thankfully, the actors made a swift exit, not wanting to stick around for what turned out to be a beer-fuelled, bad-dancing extravaganza and ended with a group of girls running round the room in their underwear. After a night kept awake by rampant L Word-ers knocking on every door in the hotel -- no doubt looking to sneak into bed with their favourite character - Saturday was a marathon of fandom. From 8am, there were queues for photos with individual actors, group shots, autograph sessions and Q& As. It was my mission to corner the cast and find out whether their perma-smiles were well-rehearsed poses or if they were seriously enjoying themselves. Anne Ramsay hadn't slept, either. When I found her back stage, she was disposing of a plate of scrambled eggs, declaring, 'They're funky-tasting.' I'd met Anne before in a bar in LA, and was impressed that she remembered our conversation: 'You asked me if I was gay, and I told you I couldn't possibly comment, right?' She wasn't about to reveal anything this time, either, but seeing as Anne played a cameo - featuring in four episodes as Jenny's girlfriend - she was more willing to talk candidly about the show: 'People complain that the cast are so beautiful and they don't see themselves in them. Although it's just a fantasy, I think The L Word should feature a more widespread representation of lesbians, particularly butch women.' But when it came to her opinion about the convention, Anne was gushing in her appreciation, claiming: 'You should always embrace your fans and be gracious and grateful to them.' There was just as much love in the room when I spoke to Rachel Shelly, who got a pantomime 'boo, hiss' at the opening ceremony for her character, Helena, but still claimed to 'love the female attention I get from the show'. So what about home-wrecking Helena, then? 'I don't see her as a bitch at all. She knows what she wants and she goes after it. She doesn't suffer fools gladly.' Helena's now-infamous swimming pool sex scene with the heavily-pregnant Tina was the stuff of much debate throughout the convention: 'The sex is all very well choreographed,' Rachel explained, 'but when we were standing beside the pool and I had undressed Tina for the first time, I couldn't help but gawp - I was like 'huge, pregnant breasts in front of me' - the director had to tell me to look less shocked!' Meanwhile, back at Convention Central, crowds spent the time between the guest Q& As - where they got to ask such probing questions as 'If you were a fruit, what would you be and why?' - queuing for stuff. And considering that by Saturday over 500 fans had arrived, they were in for a long wait. But it was all part of the fun, apparently: 'I don't care how long I have to queue,' said Becky from Leeds, 'I just want to have my photo taken with Meredith McGeachie - I love her.' Throughout the photo sessions, where over 200 non-stop shots were taken of each actor with a grinning fan, the cast looked close to breaking point. But aware that these girls had paid £35 for the privilege, they put on a brave face, even when one picked Laurel Holloman up, to her cries of 'My, aren't you strong!' Melanie from Woking said: 'The best thing about the weekend so far has been having my photo taken with Laurel and getting to put my hand on her arse.' It's one thing playing a super-sophisticated, sexy LA lesbian, but coming out for real is another matter entirely I'd asked the actors about why certain cast members on The L Word were so ambiguous about their sexuality, but I was met with a nebulous response every time. While Anne Ramsay told me; 'I'd have to ask them', Meredith McGeachie, who plays the hilarious Tanya in the show, explained: 'The sad fact is, I think sexuality does matter in Hollywood'. While other actors have tried to keep their private lives out of their performances, life and art coincided for Laurel Holloman: 'Incorporating my pregnancy into the story line was a hugely intense experience,' she told me. 'I'll be honoured to show my daughter the series and tell her that she was a part of something great. I hope that, as she grows up, she'll be able to see all kinds of characters on TV, and The L Word will just be one of many shows about lesbians.' So, she's married, has a kid and all, but Laurel still keeps us guessing. To a crescendo of wolf whistles during the Q& A, she revealed 'I love Beyoncé - she's hot!' Speaking to fans and cast alike, it was clear The L Word had touched the lives of all of us in some way. I admit, before I arrived at the convention I was cynical. If any of the cast actually turned up, I thought, it'll be a flying visit and they'll want as little to do with their craven British viewers as possible. But even as I was leaving come Sunday evening, the fans were still smiling as they queued for more autographs, and the actors were still vociferous with respect for their dedicated audience: 'This whole weekend has been thrilling,' said Meredith. 'If I can make an impact on someone's life for the better, then I'm going to honour and appreciate that.' And you know what? I believed her. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=467 Lesbians are now officially part of the pink pound and we're spending up large. ERICA ROBERTS reports on new findings in the UK's largest survey on lesbian lifestyles DIVA readers earn £6000 more annually than the national average income for women - and we spend most of our discretionary income on leisure, travel, home furnishings, clothes and mobile phone bills. Not only this, but we're aspirational consumers - we know which haute couture fashion labels which we admire, and we sometimes buy expensive cosmetic brands to treat ourselves. These findings come courtesy of two brand-new surveys - one, the UK's most comprehensive independent survey of lesbian and gay lifestyles, experiences and social attitudes; the other, DIVA's December issue Fashion Survey. The surveys have debunked many myths about us - that we have no money, that we don't figure as consumers, that we don't partake in the online commercial world, that we travel no further than our local dyke bar, and that we don't own any significant assets. In fact, nearly one in ten DIVA readers earns £40,000-£75,000, and 13 per cent earn £30,000-£39,000. The average national full-time salary for DIVA readers is £24,783 per annum - well above the national average for women of £18,531. Across both full and part-time salaries, DIVA readers earn an average of £21,593 - and the national corresponding average is £15,100. Lesbians want it all - a family, house, car, travel, leisure, cultural products and experiences, technology, clothes, cosmetics and fitness - and we're prepared to spend on them all We spend most of our money on leisure and travel, averaging out at more than £500 over a six-month period. Those of us who travel do so frequently. A whopping 84 per cent have averaged 3.5 trips by air, domestically and internationally, for leisure purposes in the last year. This includes 52 per cent who travelled internationally 3.5 times in the last year, preferring to holiday in Spain, France, Ireland, USA and Greece. Over half of our readers own a house and a new car, and we match exactly the national household average of 62 per cent ownership of a mobile phone. And it's not just gay men who will be providing injections of cash into the developing Civil Partnership spin-off industry. Seventy per cent of DIVA readers are currently in a relationship, including 46 per cent who live with their partners. Fifty-four per cent of all readers intend to register their partnership from December 2005 onwards, and 71 per cent will take a honeymoon after the ceremony. Projected figures from the survey indicate that the gay honeymoon industry could yield up to £600 million as a new-market opportunity. One in five of our readers is a parent, with a further 18 per cent saying they intend to have or adopt children within the next five years. The myth that lesbians are techno-muppets who've never heard of the cyber hyper-store has also been blown out of the water. Seventy-four per cent of us own home computers, compared with the national UK per household average of 69 per cent, and 90 per cent of our readers spend time online each week, averaging out at 8.3 hours per week. And we're not just site-surfing, either. In the last three months, 79 per cent of our readers had bought something online - considerably more than the UK national average for women of 52 per cent. DIVA readers spent an average of £394 over this three-month period; and 17 per cent had spent more than £500. Thirty-eight per cent of readers are regular internet banking users, and a further 17 per cent use it occasionally. We love our credit cards, too, spending an average of £400 per month on our little plastic pals. Our preferred brand is Visa, followed by MasterCard. As well as this, it seems that we're avid film buffs. Eighty-three per cent of us own a DVD; four out of five of us go to the cinema at least once a month, and one in five of us goes at least once a week. Sixty per cent of readers had responded to DIVA advertisements for film, or had made a purchasing decision as a result of seeing the ad. It seems we like to keep abreast of new developments in the world of film, too - 55 per cent of readers would like to see more film ads in DIVA. Restaurants and cafes enjoy much lesbian custom. Over half of us dine out at least once a week, and another 38 per cent do so once a month. At least once a month, more than four in ten respondents go to the theatre, and equal numbers of us go to a gallery or a museum. Far from leading sedentary lives, we appear to be relatively health conscious. Just under half of us go to a gym or take some other form of exercise at least once a week, and another 16 per cent do so once a month. More than half of DIVA's readers spend over £40 each month on clothes, and nearly a third spend between £50 and £100 per month on footwear. The top sportswear brands favoured by lesbians are Adidas, at 41 per cent, and Nike, at 38 per cent. Half of us own between three and ten pairs of jeans; and 55 per cent of us own between one and five pairs of trainers. A quarter of our readers owns between one and five pairs of high heels, and only 22 per cent of us don't own a skirt. Seventy-six per cent of readers spend £10 and more per month on underwear - and Marks & amp; Spencer is the preferred outlet from which to buy, with nearly half of all readers buying their smalls there. Ninety-five per cent of us wear a bra. Forty-seven per cent of readers prefer to wear hipster shorts, 37 per cent wear briefs, only 17 per cent wear boxers, and a valiant one per cent of us goes commando. This survey was conducted in winter, however. Fifty-four per cent of us spend over £10 a month on accessories, with nearly one in four of us buying these from Topshop. Three out of four readers wear make-up, and half of us tend to buy our slap at Boots. We do, however, occasionally splash out and buy Clinique, Benefit, Chanel and Clarins cosmetics for ourselves - because we're worth it. Fifty-nine per cent of readers described their personal style as casual, 35 per cent as relaxed, 33 per cent as feminine, 32 per cent as smart - and only 23 per cent as boyish. And yet the haute couture fashion labels which we aspire to wearing bear a distinctively smart, tailored, androgynous and classical stamp - Calvin Klein, DKNY, Armani, Dolce & amp; Gabbana and Gucci. Not for us the frills and excesses of Christian Lacroix or the conservative feminine tailoring of Chanel, it seems. The overall picture that these surveys present is that we want it all - a family, house, car, travel, leisure, cultural products and experiences, a well-furnished home, access to information technology, clothes, cosmetics and fitness. And we're prepared to spend on all of these things. So, why do advertisers continue to ignore the lesbian market? Why don't we see images of ourselves, our families, lifestyles, culture, etc, reflected in commercial media? Why do we simply not exist within the minds of advertising moguls and brand engineers? Sit up and take note, ad exec folk - we have more money than the average heterosexual women you target, we spend it, and we're a very loyal market, especially to lesbian-friendly brands. It's high time you educated yourselves about us, isn't it? Top five high street clothing outlets at which DIVA readers shop: 1.H& M for clothes 2.Next 3.GAP 4.Marks & amp; Spencer 5.Topshop If money were no object, we'd shop at: 1.Calvin Klein/ DKNY 2.Armani 3.Dolce & amp; Gabbana 4.Gucci Source: DIVA Fashion Survey, November 2005 The lesbian income, expenditure and lifestyle figures in this report are from Out Now Consulting 2005 DIVA & amp; Gay Times Readers' Survey, published November 2005 http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=466 Chocolates and flowers for your sweetheart on Valentine's Day? Never, unless it's armfuls of fragrant blooms and Godiva morsels, hand-delivered on horseback with a Puccini-playing cavalcade of lesbian knaves... DIANA SOUHAMI mourns the lost lesbian art of seduction Love, my dears, in Paris at the time of the Belle Époque, was all so 'other' than in London, then or now: our dresses by Paul Poiret and Worth, our ermine stoles, our hats like nesting birds, our jewels from Lalique. The long looks and half-smiles we'd exchange as our carriages passed in the Bois de Boulogne. Where, where has it all gone? The savoir vivre, the savoir faire, the élan, imagination, excitement and style. I've been to so many legal ratifications of same-sex partnerships these last few months, I can't look another vol au vent in the eye. The darlings invite their mothers and leave their gift lists at John Lewis. They want saucepan-sets and spoons, and get heated about shared pension entitlements. It wasn't ever thus. Back then, the only spoon we knew was when we were so exhausted with every other position, we had to pause. Today, our Sapphic seductresses talk of partners as if they were solicitors; they mind about their right to join the Army and the priesthood. Don't get me wrong. I've nothing against the Military. One of my favourite fantasies is me as a cavalry officer and my maid, Angel, as my batman. But spitting on your boot caps first thing in the morning and shooting when you see the whites of the enemy's eyes? Please. The same goes for the Church - I love Angel's naughty confession and my meting out penance, but don't bring God into it. Really. Why, Oh why have my sisters heeded so little from my mentor Natalie Barney, the Amazon, Sappho's handmaiden, the Queen of Paris lesbians? In my mind's eye I see Natalie now, galloping bareback in the Bois, with her jodhpurs and crop, her mane of blonde hair, her blue, blue eyes. I think of her aphorisms of love, which sounded so seductive when she uttered them in French in her high, nasal voice: 'One is unfaithful to those one loves so that their charm will not become mere habit'. 'In love there is no status quo'. 'People call it unnatural. All I can say is, it's always come naturally to me'. 'To be a poet at all hours and, above all, a poet of life'. The long looks and half-smiles we'd exchange as our carriages passed in the Bois de Boulogne, the imagination and style - where has it gone? Natalie aspired to make Paris the Sapphic centre of the Western World. Every Friday afternoon we gathered in The Temple to Friendship in her garden at 20 rue Jacob. We were followers of Sappho, steeped in Grecian ideals of free love, art, truth and beauty. Trysts were made. Natalie taught us much. I think of her with Liane de Pougy, Paris's most famous courtesan, Natalie wooing her in the hired costume of a prince. Liane's white gown, studded with pearls, her hat wreathed with roses - how heads turned as they kissed and caressed in a box at the theatre. They boasted of afternoons in Liane's blue boudoir, of rolling about on the polar bear rug, of kissing, nipping and delirium, of Natalie's 'vicious white teeth' and hair 'like a moonbeam'. I think of Natalie with the poet Renée Vivien, who metamorphosed from Pauline Tarn from Paddington - born again in Paris. 'You are the suffering that makes happiness contemptible', Renée wrote to her. 'In you I find the incarnation of my deepest desire. I love you and I am certain you will never love me'. Together, they travelled to Lesbos in the steps of Sappho. In Bayreuth, they sat through 15 hours of Wagner's Ring Cycle their arms entwined. When Natalie was rebuffed by Renée, she persuaded the soprano Emma Calvé, the greatest Carmen of her day, to dress as a busker and sing beneath her window: 'I have lost Euridice; there is no pain like mine'. A crowd gathered and tossed coins. Renée appeared on her balcony. Natalie threw flowers and poems, and sank to her knees. Natalie's life, she said, was a work of art of her own making. In her garden, Mata Hari appeared in a tableau vivant on an elephant, naked except for a tinsel crown. Colette and Ida Rubinstein and Renée, in togas of thin gauze, danced round an incense-burning brazier in homage to Sappho. The neighbours complained, so Natalie moved. What equivalence did you have in London? Publication and censorship of The Well of Loneliness, the most depressing thing I've ever read. The Sink of Solitude, we dubbed it. Poor Radclyffe Hall - 'John', as she called herself - with her ingrowing eyelashes and unrequited passion for her Russian maid, Chinkie Pig, who wasn't a lesbian at all. And manacled for a Catholic eternity to Lady Troubridge, the wife from hell. And then to have her book, her baby, burned to ashes by the Government and the Judiciary, jowly old fools in frock coats and high hats, inflamed at the idea of sex between girls. Oh, but in Paris, what sex. Such sex! Natalie could coax a moan from the Mona Lisa. She talked us all through it. She divided her amours into liaisons, demi-liaisons and adventures. Romaine was her main liaison - they were together, in a way, for 50 years. Romaine with her muted paintings, her studios in Capri and Fiesole and her beautiful legs. Her portraits of us all adorned her Paris studio. Truman Capote called it 'the all-time ultimate gallery of famous dykes'. Only Romaine could bend Natalie to her will. 'All my life remains Romaine', Natalie said. It sounded better in French. Her adventures were pick-ups from anywhere and everywhere: the toilets of the Louvre department store, over a glass of lemonade at Pavillon Chinois, on a park bench in Nice. There was Nadine Hwang, who'd been a colonel in the Chinese Army, a blonde who spoke not a word of English or French. I, too, was an adventure, I fear. Am I the only ancient dyke in town who yearns for those far-off treacherous shores of love? I look with sorrow at the audience at the k.d. lang concert and pine for the Belle Époque. It's not that I mind my sisters looking like men: far from it. It's the sort of men they emulate. Boring ones who wash their cars on Saturdays, get a number four from the barber on the corner, and buy their wives Valentine gifts from the Argos catalogue. To dress as a man must be done with panache. I think of Colette's lover, Denise de Morny, the half-sister of Napoleon the Third. 'Uncle Max', she called herself. The way she strode in her riding breeches and morning suits and polished her hair. The size of her cigars, the glint of her monocle. I think of Colette, languishing naked on a lion skin draped in a panther skin, of Dolly Wilde, Oscar's niece, 'half androgyne, half goddess', the opium-enhanced sparkle of her eyes, the incoherent genius of the wit that tumbled from her lips. I remember the night when she flung dollar bills from a window in the Paris Ritz, inflamed and inebriated with jealousy at Natalie's infidelities. The hotels from which she was evicted for not paying the bills! The rehab centres where she failed to find a cure. I suppose there was a down side. Most of them died young - of alcoholism, drug addiction, anorexia - but they put sexual adventure above security and style above comfort. They avoided the cliché, the convention, the status quo. Natalie survived into old age. And Romaine. Both were nonagenarians. Asked at the end of her long life what she had loved best, Natalie answered: 'Loving'. 'I make you the splendid gift of the love you have for me', she wrote for all her lovers, with sublime egomania. Those were the days, my dears. I long for them to come again. Is that a knocking I hear at the door? Is there a nag neighing in the boulevard? Angel, put on that aria from Anna Bolena, turn back the silken sheets, light the spliffs and the scented candles, bring me my robes and prosthesis, my wig and my crown, and pop the cork, my dear, like a good maid should. Have you the wit to woo? DO give her a ring inscribed with a message of undying love. But make sure it's a white sapphire. And don't say 'Forever' - it's such a long time. DO take her to Lesbos, but not on a Thompson five-day package. Charter a yacht through the Gulf of Corinth. Woo her with tales of art and love, jealousy and desire. DO write her poems about 'moaning hearts' and 'breasts like lotus flowers'. But do so in French, or you'll sound ridiculous. DON'T take her for a king-size veggie burger then a game of snooker in The Sailor's Arms. Take her by surprise and with imagination. DON'T buy her a bleeding heart card that serenades her with a wolf whistle every time she opens it. The battery will never run out. DO have a passionate night with her, your eyes and lips meeting in the shadows, your breath coming in short pants. But not in the Cottage Inn at the back of Euston Station after the Glass Bar. There's no fire escape. DO gallop to her apartment bareback in riding breeches, thwacking your whip, then serenade her from the street with the terzettino aria Soave sia il vento from Cosi Fan Tutte. But make sure you've paid the congestion charge, and that you don't get done for stalking under the 2003 Harassment Act. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=361 Tricia Tuttle meets the hot new film director Cath Le Couteur has a throaty Aussie accent, an infectious laugh and boundless creative energy that makes her one of the most hotly tipped young film-makers working in the UK. Her rakishly tousled hair recalls several of her heroes - like Pedro Almodóvar and Jim Jarmusch, whose famous quiffs also dominate in photographs. Le Couteur moved to London in 1995 from Sydney. Following a stint at the National Film and Television School, where she directed a few celebrated short films, she currently has two features in the works. One of these, Courier Cuts, follows a feisty, irresponsible 19-year-old and her long-lost teenage brother as they bail out of London for Spain in a freewheeling road trip. 'I wrote the first draft in three months. Then I realised how much I had to learn about making it really good,' says Le Couteur. That first draft and her impressive track record were enough to score an invitation to Cannes Film Festival's prestigious Cinefondation programme, which develops the talents of promising young international film-makers, and opens many doors in an industry that's notoriously hard on newcomers. Each of Le Couteur's films has a distinct, individual look, but they're all clearly the work of a woman in love with vivid, unusual characters and arresting imagery. The idea for Courier Cuts came from a single photograph: 'I saw an image of La Tomatina in the paper - a festival in Spain where they pelt tomatoes at each other - which is totally nuts and visually insane. The film ends there now and certainly helped get me started.' 'The media can only package people and phenomena up into crass "McNuggets" of identity, but I don't see how it helps an audience' This sticky image also hints at one of Le Couteur's other trademarks: a fascination with the physical expressions of desire - most often a desire that isn't wholly conscious. Her short film Starched turned a session of ironing in a hotel into an intense, erotic, often funny sexual power struggle between a chambermaid and an austere female guest. Le Couteur's fascination with desire seems as natural and spontaneous as its occurrence in her films. 'I don't start out wanting to explore these themes upfront. I tend to start with an image, character or setting, and the stories and themes just evolve from those. But I find myself totally drawn, however obliquely, to revealing all the badness, weirdness and ambiguity of a character in relation to their desires. I must stop at some point, but so far it's proven irresistible.' This interest in sexuality doesn't mean that Le Couteur is happy to be described as a 'gay film-maker'. She has a point when she derides the laziness of journalists using such terms as short hand: 'The media can only package people and phenomena up into crass 'McNuggets' of identity, but I don't see how it helps an audience. It assumes that you're speaking for a single community. If I were described as "an evil woman film-maker" or "a tanned gay film-maker", I guess I'd be a lot happier.' Despite these projects, Le Couteur finds time to run Shooting People, the UK's most influential community of film-makers. She and friend/ producer Jess Search set up Shooting People in 1998 as an online message board where film-makers could share information and expertise. Seven years on, it's exploded beyond recognition, boasting patrons like Sally Potter and Danny Boyle, more than 26,000 members, monthly event screenings, and an online digest that connects directors with cast and crew for new film projects. In December, it's also launching a distribution arm to release good films which might not otherwise break into traditional distribution channels in the UK. Best vs Best, an initial DVD release of award-winning shorts - from a BAFTA winner to several Oscar nominees - will be out this month. With this and a documentary coming out in early 2006, it looks set to be another mad but productive year for the film-maker. 'I'm aiming to get one or both of these films into production next year.' Don't bet on Cath not finishing both by the end of it. BEST VS BEST IS OUT ON DECEMBER 5TH. GO TO WWW.BESTVBEST.COM. FOR MORE INFORMATION ON SHOOTING PEOPLE, VISIT WWW.SHOOTINGPEOPLE.ORG http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=360 He thought he was the consumate outsider until he came face to face with Boy George in 1982. Sarah-Jane discovers why everyone wants a piece of Antony and The Johnsons It's been one helluva year for Antony Hegarty. Within 12 months, the British born, New York-based songwriter has literally gone from being an underground secret to the next big thing. Earlier this year, the readers of Mojo nominated him for Best Newcomer Award and in September he scooped the Mercury Music Prize with his sublime second album, I Am A Bird Now. Patti Smith personally invited him to perform at her recent Meltdown festival at the Royal Festival Hall and his increasing fan base includes legends like Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson, Nick Cave and Tori Amos. Endearingly, none of this seems to have gone to his head; he refers to himself as 'the cleaning lady' and makes self-depreciating remarks about his 'dodgy voice'. A friendly, six-foot-four angel dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, he's more handsome than his press shots suggest and extremely easy company. Sarah-Jane met up with him on a recent trip to London and grilled him about his life-transforming music. DIVA: Your album sales are going from strength to strength and your forthcoming tour sold out within days. Have you been pleasantly surprised by your success? Antony Hegarty: I have, yeah. I'd hoped there'd be an audience for my work, but I didn't expect there to be such positive interest from such a wide variety of people. As you can probably tell, I still find it quite shocking and exciting. DIVA: Why do you think people have embraced your music so passionately? AH: I think it's a matter of timing. I think we're at this particular window of time where people want something that feels authentic and heartfelt. We live in such an accelerated, consumer-based world, that a lot of the time those things seem absent. I'm not saying everyone that buys my record or sees me live will think my work is heartfelt and truthful, but I think that's one of the reasons people relate to it. The only other reason I can think of is it's quite slow, sad music and a lot of people might find that quite comforting. It doesn't matter what mood I'm in, I always gravitate towards music that speaks to me and makes me feel better. DIVA: Diamanda Galas once said emotion and intensity is more important than hitting the right notes - would you agree? AH: She says that, but she's probably never hit the wrong note. She's at least the greatest singer in America, if not the world. I'm an enormous fan of her work and her voice. Compared to Diamanda, I'm as wobbly as a pair of old knees. I definitely agree with where she's coming from, though. If you look at Nina Simone or Billie Holiday, they only sang two or three notes. The thing that made them special was the emotion and intensity in their voices and the fact they were telling the truth. DIVA: There are a lot of interesting reference points in your work, from your record sleeves to the artists you cover live. Is it important people decipher these? AH: I can't underestimate the importance that people like Candy Darling and Velvet Underground have had on me, but it doesn't bother me if other people don't like them or know who they are. If anything, I like the idea of the references being there for certain people to discover or acknowledge, the same way I discovered and acknowledged people like Leigh Bowery and Klaus Nomi through Marc Almond and Boy George. DIVA: Singing with Marc at the Royal Festival Hall last year must have been a special moment for you. AH: It was like watching a movie. I look back and still don't know how it happened or how I managed to get through it. He was my idol for so many years, I honestly don't know how I didn't fall to pieces. I remember sitting in my bedroom night after night, playing his records and studying his photo, and somehow he always managed to draw me towards the light. He was my entire focus throughout my teens and I feel honoured to have met him and shared a stage with him. DIVA: Have you become friends with him and Boy George since you've collaborated? AH: Yeah. We've kept in touch on and off since our initial meetings, and to my shock and horror they've been very gracious about me and my music. They might decide to disown me if they hate the next record, but I feel very lucky I've got to meet and hang out with them both. It's been a long circle to get to this point and there's still part of me that looks at them through the eyes of a 12-year-old. I remember reading a quote from Marc Almond that said: 'Never meet your heroes', but I've found the opposite to be true. I've met most of mine now and it's been nothing short of brilliant. DIVA: Devendra Banhart and Rufus Wainwright both sing backing vocals on I Am A Bird Now and you've just collaborated with Cocorosie on Beautiful Boyz. How did you hook up with them all? AH: A mutual friend introduced me to Rufus and I met Devendra and Cocorosie a few years ago. Some people might say their view of the world is a bit innocent and naïve, but I think it's incredibly wise and beautiful. I really believe in them and their visions; they're complete originals and they've been a tremendous influence on me. DIVA: The chorus to Beautiful Boyz‚ with its kings and queens and queer criminals, sounds like a hymn to Jean Genet. AH: Yeah, I love those girls so much. They're only in their 20s, but their reference points are really interesting subcultural writers and film-makers. The 90s was such a rotten time for self-expression and queer culture that it felt like all the interesting people had been run over and left rotting in the hospital. The one good thing that came out of 9/11 is it seemed to make people in New York wake up and start creating again. Suddenly, all these ghosts of queens and queers from Christmas past started resurfacing, and people started joining the dots and expressing themselves again. I've spoken to curators all over the world and a lot of them say they've witnessed a similar thing. DIVA: When did you first start experimenting with your identity? AH: I had a brief flirtation with make-up and different haircuts as a teenager, but it wasn't until I moved to New York and started performing at the Pyramid Club that I really started to experiment with clothes and 'drag'. I was in my early 20s at the time and pushing to find my identity and my limits. I have a deeper understand of who I am and how I define myself now, but I still feel quite grey when it comes to certain areas. I definitely have more questions than answers, and I think I Am A Bird Now expresses that quite well. DIVA: One of the things that makes your records so compelling is the way you write about transgression, transformation and gender ambiguity. AH: For me, it's about self-expression and creating a dialogue of creativity. I was talking to a friend about this the other day, and I think it's fascinating and horrifying that from such an early age we're taught to identify ourselves and everyone around us in terms of gender. One of the first things we learn at school isn't how to treat everyone the same, but to act and behave in a masculine or feminine way. I've been thinking about this a lot and I'm really looking forward to the day when all children are encouraged to grow up and not think of themselves as male or female. Wouldn't that be refreshing? DIVA: It's amazing to think we're living in 2005 and there's still a long list of things which are considered inappropriate for boys or girls. AH: It's unbelievable. In Native America they used to have this ceremony where the boys' tools were put together in a circle and the girls' tools were put together in a circle, and each of the children would be encouraged to choose which tools they liked the most. If a boy chose the girls' tools, he would do a dance around them and that would be seen as a declaration of who he was. I'm not sure if it still happens, but I love the fact that the whole community would gather round and the kids were encouraged to celebrate their duality. DIVA: What's interesting in our society is that when we become older, the division about gender becomes transferred to sexual identity and whether people are gay or straight. AH: Absolutely. I think the fact we're led to believe we're different because of our sexuality is a hoax that's been pulled on us. When you think about how much time you actually spend having sex compared to how much time you spend eating or talking or listening to music, it's really not that significant or important. I might be an active homosexual for an hour here and there, but I'm myself 24 hours a day. Obviously I have quite a big gay and lesbian fan base, but I'm hopeful that the thing that binds us together isn't our sexual orientation - it's the fact that we're all special in our individual ways. DIVA: Do you think we'll ever reach a time when sexual orientation becomes a non-issue? AH: I'd like to think so. I think it would be much more interesting to look at people in terms of their character and personality, and ask; what else is there about them that makes them different, and what else is there about them that could be celebrated and treasured? I think the whole message behind my story isn't 'this child is gay', it's 'this child is different'. DIVA: Would you say your songs are partly autobiographical and partly fictional? AH: I'd say there's an element of truth and experience in all of them. Some of them are my stories, some of them stories about people I care about and am inspired by. Basically, it takes me so long to write and craft each song that I try to write about things which are important and meaningful to me. I would probably sell more records if I sang about other things, but I don't see the point. DIVA: Both Fistful of Love and Cripple and The Starfish could be interpreted as an homage to sadomasochism. AH:That's not really my thing, but I haven't got a problem with people interpreting them as that. When I wrote those particular songs, I was at an age when I was questioning the kinds of relationships I'd had and the kind of relationships I wanted to have. I was also looking at how far one person would go for another in terms of emotion and commitment rather than violence. DIVA: So really they're songs about personal transgression and the dark side of love? AH: Exactly. To me, both those songs are part of a long lineage of dark, playful love songs, from Velvet Underground's Venus In Furs and Millie Jackson's Hurts So Good to Hole's Live Through This and The Crystals' He Hit Me and It Felt Like A Kiss. It's funny people love them so much because they're like Rubik's cubes to me now. Some nights I turn them over and over, and still can't imagine where they came from. DIVA: Different aspects of love seems to be a recurring theme in your work - do you fall in love a lot? AH: I'm not sure how to answer that. I guess I fall in love quite easily and seem to have lots of feelings for people, but I don't always act on them. There's a boy I'm meeting tonight who I'm quite keen on. He's coming to London especially to see me; I'm quite excited about that. DIVA: What qualities and characteristics do you look for in a man? AH: Two legs - but one will do one if he's got a pretty face. I'm not an expert at relationships or picking up men. As for my records, most of the songs on there are about love between friends and families rather than romantic love. I Am A Bird Now is available on Rough Trade and Cocorosie's Noah's Ark is available on Touch & amp; Go. Antony and the Johnsons play York Opera House on November 23rd, Glasgow Academy on November 30th and Shepherds Bush Empire, London, on December 5th. For full tour dates, visit www.antonyandthejohnsons.com http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=357 Since the murder in 2004 of J-FLAG's Brian Williamson, Jamaica's gay men and lesbians have lived under the ever-increasing threat of homophobia and hate-crime violence. But some are taking a quiet stand. JANE CZYZSELSKA reports Little Britain's Daffyd doesn't know how lucky he is. The only gay in the village he may be, but at least he can rely on a welcome from cheery barmaid Myfanwy while he dreams of being whisked down the aisle by the next gay tourist who walks into his local pub. When Beverly and her partner, Gina, exchanged wedding vows earlier this year in New Kingston, they did so in the shadow of virulent homophobia that's forced almost all of Jamaica's lesbians and gay men into hiding. In front of a select gathering of close family and friends, Beverly, 44, defiantly decided to go public - partially, at least - about her love for 32-year-old Gina. It was a bright spring day in April when the two women walked down the candlelit aisle of their church in New Kingston. Behind the locked church doors, a congregation of 80 friends and family, many of whom had flown in from Canada and America, came to witness the extraordinary and courageous event. 'All my friends and anyone I've talked with for a while knows about my sexuality; I refuse to pretend. I'm a proud lesbian. And it was a real thrill for me to have one of my sons walk me down the aisle', she said. 'We had a cake-cutting, union candle, toast and the works: I wore a traditional white dress made by Christian Dior. We sealed our union with a kiss and signed a Power of Attorney to each other'. 'Verbal abuse takes place on a daily basis, and I regularly see and hear about lesbians who've been raped and beaten. We can't hold hands safely.' Beverly's decision is all the more poignant, considering the catalogue of abuse she's experienced since she came out a few years ago. The last time, she was threatened by a mob who saw her with a young, gay man at a Burger King outlet. The assault was preceded by an angry exchange and verbal taunts of 'sodomite' and 'lesbian'. 'It's all part of what we've grown to expect,' Beverly explains. 'Verbal abuse takes place on a daily basis, and I regularly see and hear about lesbians who've been raped and beaten. We can't hold hands safely, regardless of whether you're middle- or working-class, and we're routinely run out of regular dancehalls. Gina fears losing her job if her boss finds out she's gay. We both live in fear of officially sanctioned persecution'. Most of the media coverage of Jamaica's homophobia has focused on the violently anti-gay lyrics of the country's dancehall and reggae music, and brought to the world's attention the murder in 2004 of Jamaican gay rights campaigner Brian Williamson, founder of J-FLAG, Jamaica Forum for Lesbians, All Sexuals and Gays, the country's first and only LGBT lobbying, advocacy and support group. But little has been written specifically about the experiences of Jamaican lesbians. Although lesbianism isn't a criminal offence under Jamaican law, lesbians are significantly affected by Jamaica's climate of homophobic violence. Karlene is co-chair of J-FLAG, and uses only her first name because of fears for her safety. Against inconceivable odds, J-FLAG runs a women's group. Says Karlene: 'We have socials where we'll lyme - hang out at someone's house - and some of us host little events at our homes, but they must be in a safe area. Everything must be done in secret - we don't want unexpected visitors'. While in Britain we've been celebrating the right to join in Civil Partnership, lesbians in Jamaica struggle for the right to exist. Terry, a 22-year-old waitress, is fortunate to have a gay older brother and is out to her father, but she and her brother are regular targets for homophobes. This year alone she's been trailed and taunted by homophobic men, who've threatened to beat her up at work and showered her with a torrent of verbal abuse. 'I hope one day I'll be able to walk down the street with my lover, hand in hand, without worrying that I might be killed,' she tells DIVA. In recent years, Jamaica has become notorious for its shocking gay rights record. In 2004, Human Rights Watch produced an alarming report called Hated to Death. It focused on homophobia within the country, detailing commonplace acts of extreme violence against gay men, and widespread incidents of lesbians and gay men being driven from their homes under threat of death. The report also found that police in Jamaica routinely and actively support homophobic violence, and concluded that Jamaica is in violation of its obligations as a state party to regional and international human rights treaties. It may seem odd, given the country's heinous record on gay rights, that people like Beverly and Gina should risk having a fairly elaborate 'wedding' but, as Amnesty International spokesperson Sarah Green explains: 'There's no legal recognition for any act of union whatsoever, but in places where police are brutal and there's serious vigilante violence, it doesn't necessarily mean that all gay people are going to be forced into hiding.' Amnesty, too, has received a litany of grim reports ranging from anti-gay vigilante action by members of the community to ill treatment or abuse by the police, medical authorities and employers. Lesbians and gay men have been beaten, burned, raped and murdered because of their sexuality - but Amnesty believes that the number of reports it hears is the tip of the iceberg. 'We're only a voluntary organisation, and have built up a picture via limited investigation, but we believe our finding holds true for the national picture. The very nature of these crimes is likely to make people mistrust figures of authority, so reporting levels are going to be lower because of the fear of being identified. There's shame about sexuality, so people might not want to talk about themselves,' says Green. Amnesty has received reports of specific acts of violence against lesbians, namely rape and other forms of sexual violence. There are reports of lesbians being attacked on the grounds of 'mannish' physical appearance or other visible 'signs' of sexuality. Some reports of abduction and rape emanate from inner-city communities, where local NGOs have already expressed concerns about high incidences of violence against women. One of the reasons for the widespread disdain for lesbians, reckons Karlene, is that the public thinks lesbianism is illegal. That's true of male homosexuality, but there are no specific legal penalties against lesbians. Anecdotal evidence suggests that Jamaicans are largely unaware of this, a perception reinforced by comments made by politicians, the media, religious leaders and dancehall musicians. 'It's a popular subject that's often used to stir up support,' confirms Green. 'If you're a politician and are criticised for not being firm on crime, at least you can give yourself a platform on this subject.' 'Our prime minister, PJ Patterson, has said he won't allow two women or men to get married, and he's richly supported by religious leaders', says Beverly, 'but I hope things will change. If I wasn't a lesbian, I know my life would be easier. I can't say what I'll do if things don't change, but I do know I'll never leave this country. I'll stand up for what I believe in'. www.jflag.com. Send messages of solidarity to J-FLAG, who need to know support is there from all around the world, via www.amnesty.org.uk/lgbt http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=356 Her memorable roles in Showgirls and Bound won her an army of lesbian fans. TIM TEEMAN caught up with Gina Gershon and heard how the sexy Hollywood star is carving out a new career for herself Think Gina Gershon, think sexy. Think strong. Think, frankly, gay. Gershon has made her name playing foxy dykes and bisexuals. In Showgirls, she was dancing grande dame Cristal, in a porned-up, insane reworking of All About Eve set in Las Vegas, which the critics hated but homos love. In Bound, she played Corky, arguably the hottest butch ever on film. Most recently, she turned in a guitar-thrashing, throat-scorching turn as rock chick Jacki, the bi lead singer and guitarist of an all-girl punk band in Prey For Rock & amp; Roll, with a nice line in screeching vocals and duffing up scumbag rapists. There's a great story about Gershon laying out Bob Dylan with one punch in a boxing bout at a New York gym. Dylan told her: 'That's just what I need; a good woman to kick my butt every now and then'. On the phone, speaking from New York, her voice is clear, not slurred or guttural as her screen personas often demand. As a result of Prey, based on Cheri Lovedog's autobiographical rock musical, Gershon has jettisoned acting for singing. As part of a distribution deal to show the film in the States, she played a three-month tour with a band, and is releasing a CD. She's become best mates with dyke singer-songwriter Linda Perry, who 'has the best voice of any woman I know, but she hates performing. I'm like, "Give me your voice".' Joan Jett taught Gershon to thrash the guitar. The guitar legend was 'very specific about the technique', apparently, but Gershon won't say more, giggling, 'It's too naaaaasty'. The question that faces Jacki, she says, is: 'What do you do when you haven't made it?' It's one that could apply to Gershon herself, as she herself admits. 'I can't do another lesbian part because I'd get typecast. It's a shame; a lot of the time they're great!' Growing up in LA ('I'm the original Valley Girl'), Gershon appeared in musicals and joined a band when she was 15. She adored David Bowie and Elvis Costello. When she was a young girl, she told people she wanted to be a 'hit-lady'. She says: 'Maybe it was the Bond movies. My image was of a cat burglar, elegant and secretive. I didn't realise it meant killing people.' She moved to New York to study acting, philosophy and psychology - the latter two because 'I like to at least pretend to be smart. Psychology feeds into acting. Philosophy has helped me get through the business side of things. I was an existentialist for a while'. She appeared, though not in much else, in some key films of the 80 - Pretty in Pink, Cocktail (Tom Cruise was 'very sweet') - but her career didn't really take off. 'I didn't quite go the commercial route. My agent told me I was gonna ruin my career doing Showgirls, then Bound, but I can't help what I like. Maybe I was young and naive and didn't think about the repercussions. Maybe they closed doors, but they opened others. At least I can say I do work I'm proud of.' What, even Showgirls? Paul Verhoeven's film was critically panned but Gershon is proud of her performance. The experience wasn't pretty, she admits. The filming was 'insane'. Camp classic it might be, but, says Gershon, 'It was so not fun to work on. I was dancing ten hours a day, three months straight, before filming started. I anticipated the equivalent of appearing in a classical jazz concert, or something by Wagner, something dark, intricate and psychologically intense. When I got to the set, it was a Britney Spears concert.' But Gershon trouped on. 'I thought I'd have fun - and the drag queens would dress like me on Hallowe'en. I was like, "Why are you guys taking it so seriously?"' Then, the script for Bound landed, the tale of a gangster's moll and a handy-dyke getting it on. 'It had two things against it. Lesbianism and little-known directors - the Wachowski brothers. Those were big taboos back then. But I loved the script and I wanted to do Corky. She was the typical male hero - get the money, get the girl. It was 180 degrees away from Cristal. All I wanted to do after Showgirls was cut off my hair, take off the nails.' After Bound, Gershon's career stalled. 'If I sat around waiting for another acting part, I'd probably go crazy at this point,' she admits, though she's had a cameo in the hit Larry David comedy Curb Your Enthusiasm. 'Music has allowed me the luxury of not totally relying on acting as a means of income. Actually, if I listened to the universe, I probably should have pursued music all along.' She is working on a children's book with Dan, her brother - The Adventures of Einstein P Fleet - centred on the adventures of an awkward, smart 12-year-old boy, based on Dan, which the big studios are sniffing around. There's a possible film about a 'famous female figure' she might make, but she doesn't want to jinx it by talking about it. Gershon finds it odd that she's remembered for her lesbian and bi characters - 'I've done over 30 movies' - especially as she sees the sexuality of those women as 'incidental. I look at the character and what they're doing and what they're going through. At this point, I can't do another lesbian part because I'd get typecast. It's a shame; a lot of the time they're great!' Bound opened up the way for Boys Don't Cry and other lesbian-themed movies which followed, she believes. Her gay fans are 'fantastic, really loyal. It's nice that I seem to have represented something in those movies that they connect to. They send letters and presents. Sometimes it gets too much. I say, "You gotta relax. Don't throw yourself around like that".' Does she guard her privacy? 'Sure. Why the hell would anyone want to talk about their private life?' She laughs. 'I'm open, to a certain degree. I don't want to talk about who I'm going out with. One, I'm superstitious. Also, it's not my job to say what I'm doing.' Oh come on, your lesbian fans want to know. 'All my lesbian fans don't want to hear the answer or they'll just be disappointed, so I'd rather not disappoint them,' she says. 'It's nice to let people fantasise and dream. So if I said, "I'm not gay", it's like-' she makes the sound of a groan '-so it's better to say nothing, and they'll think, "Maybe she is; she doesn't say anything about it".' Gershon's single at the moment, she tells me, though seeing someone. 'It's not serious, though I'd like to find someone. I'm ready to be in a serious relationship. I want to focus on my work, and it would be nice to have an anchor.' She'd like children - 'But I don't want to do it on my own'. She would like to live with someone 'as long as I have my wing of the house, and they have theirs.' And just to be absolutely clear: the gender of this person would be male? 'Well yeah,' she says very quietly, 'but I don't want to make anyone sad.' Then she brightens. 'Hey, I wish I were gay, I wish I could be gay; I really just don't think I am. I just don't think it's my thing. I'm really not.' Do women approach her? 'Yeah, all the time. It's nice, flattering. If anyone likes you, that's nice.' Has she ever slept with a woman, fancied a woman? 'Questions like that are no-one's business,' she says, icily. 'I just find them really inappropriate.' The same goes for her age. According to websites, she is 43. 'Let's say early 40s,' she says, then continues angrily. 'Why is everyone so fuckin' obsessed with age? That's the worst thing in this business. If you say anything, say I'm 65. Seriously, I find it really disgusting. 'It's hurt a lot of people's careers. That's why I'm cagey. Actresses are told they're too old - what do they mean "too old"? Fuck you. I've lied about my age every which way since I started. Why, if you're 50 and look like 32, should you not be right for the part? 'I feel like my private life is no-one's business; knowing about it doesn't enhance my acting. In fact, once you know too much about the person, you stop looking at their acting or their music. I hate gossip magazines. What they write most of the time is bullshit, anyway. I'd rather people knew me by my work. It would be miserable just to want to get my picture in the paper. She's taken a brave route, not playing the game. 'My mother says, "It doesn't matter what I tell you to do, you do what you want to do". She's right. I connect to something or I don't. But that's not brave. I feel weirdly selfish - "I like this, so I'm gonna do it".' But this bull-headedness, while eliciting some 'Go, girl' cheers, hasn't led Gershon, so far, to big-role territory. She's known to lesbians for Bound, and for Showgirls by connoisseurs of trash. She hasn't made it - yet. And she knows it. 'I feel completely frustrated,' she confesses. 'I don't feel I've got anywhere near fulfilling my ambitions. There have been many times when a director has wanted me, but the studio says they have to go with the better-known actress. After Prey, I considered giving acting up. But I have other avenues of creativity. I don't want to become a bitter actress staring at the phone. 'I don't think I crave public attention. Maybe that's the problem - I don't have that blind, crazy ambition. I'm probably a reluctant celebrity. If there's a line of photographers, I'll sneak around the back of it. That's not a good celebrity quality. I don't think I have gotten to the level I should be. I'm that one step away. But there's still time.' She laughs. 'I'm not dying tomorrow.' As for her sexy image, she groans. 'That is so not what I am. I don't walk into a room and think - she purrs slinkily - "Who am I gonna kill?"' Maybe she should play a dowdy heterosexual librarian in her next film. She roars. 'Actually, I just played an English frog biologist in a movie with Matthew Modine called Kettle of Fish. My character's super-goofy. She wears a lab coat, mismatched clothes and bad shoes. I loved it.' It all sounds most unlike the Gina Gershon we know but, hey, at 65 she's earned the right to do it her way. Prey For Rock & amp; Roll is out now on DVD http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=355 Long hair, killer heels, a bulging make-up bag: ERICA ROBERTS flaunts her femininity with her fellow femmes. Barbara Bourne is not a femme to be messed with. The lady who is proud of her 'big fucking mouth' flicks a stray strand of bottle blonde hair from her defiant eyes before telling me her story. 'When I came out, I really had to earn my lesbian card because of my feminine look. Then I came out as femme. I got no recognition, no attention, and no validation from the dykes around me. They said, "You're actually a lesbian-identified bisexual, and you're a dime a dozen". They put me down for the "oppressive" clothes I wore.' Ten years down the track, Barbara, a 36-year-old Canadian animal care technician now living in Oxford, laughs about it wryly. 'So I used to wind them up. I'd enter the room when they were in the middle of their political discussions, and I'd be wearing a mini dress, and I'd ask in my most girly voice, "Which nail polish do you think is less oppressive, the red or the pink?"' Ah, the heady days of dogmatic feminism, when femininity within lezza circles was about as hip as a shell suit. Those of us who played with our femininity - sprinkling ourselves with glitter and fluttering our false eyelashes - were challenged about our sexuality when we tried to go into dyke clubs: we were told we weren't real lesbians; that we were in cahoots with hetero-patriarchy, of all things. A lot of us were rejected by the very communities we needed the most. Ah, the heady days of dogmatic feminism, when femininity within lezza circles was about as hip as a shell suit Lois Weaver, 56-year-old matriarch of queer performance art and one half of the Split Britches theatrical duo, remembers those days: 'When feminism first became a movement, we all rejected femininity, make-up, restrictive clothing - and for good reason.' She pauses. 'Feminism couldn't afford to be ironic at that time. Now, I can be an ironic feminist - I can take the tricky path of being a resistant femme.' Barbara, too, acknowledges that the impact of feminism on femme identity has ultimately been positive: 'Sex-positive feminism has been great for femmes. Without it, femme identity wouldn't be where it is.' Marvellous - now we can return to the cosmetics counter with our tongues planted firmly in our girly cheeks, and without fear of reprimand from within our own dyke communities. Femmes can be slappers in slap and remain completely in control of how we make use of our feminine sexuality. We've sifted through the process by which women are coaxed into maintaining a feminine appearance - we've chucked out the bits we don't want, played ironically with other bits, and now, when we choose to be girly for ourselves, we queer up our femininity. We maintain our own agency. We choose who gets the femme sexual goodies - and it sure as hell ain't men. But hang on. We may play with our glam femininity, and it's queer to us, but we still largely get read as "straight". We're still, to some extent, invisible - because it doesn't occur to a lot of people who look at us that femininity might signify queerness. Kath Moonan can hardly be described as invisible as a person, in her sprayed-on, tight, 1950s' red-gingham diner-girl dress. The web designer, 34, calls herself "a bird", her playful working-class speak for femme. 'I'm a show off, so I'm not invisible, but I'm probably mistaken for heterosexual all the time - by straight people and queer people.' She adjusts her red fishnets lovingly. 'But I'm not. I go for "geezers" - masculine dykes. I've stopped worrying about whether people read me as queer. It's their problem, not mine. I don't let the concern of whether or not I look obviously queer inform how I look.' Kath sighs: 'But what really bothers me is if I'm walking down the street and I see a couple of cute butches, and they look straight through me because they presume I'm straight. I think that invisibility depends on where you live. I'm lucky; now that I live in London, anything goes in terms of looks - and there are a lot of butches here who can spot femmes. If I was in an isolated village, I wouldn't be getting a poke the way I can in London.' Quite. This, surely, is the worst thing about being not being read as queer. In some ways, though, there are obvious advantages to passing as straight. Femmes don't cop the homophobic aggression that more masculine dykes do - we're protected from this harshness by our maquillage. 'I recognise that this is a privilege I have over very butch women,' says Seema, a 38-year-old Indian femme who works in the public sector. Seema has identified as femme for the last 16 years. She's always worn girly clothes, favouring tight tops, fitting skirts and gorgeous boots. 'I've been chased down the street a few times, but usually when I'm with a butch. Cabbies, builders and people on the street perceive me as straight.' Seema, too, says that she's sometimes assumed to be straight by other dykes. 'Since I came back to London from San Francisco seven years ago, I definitely feel a lot more invisible at dyke clubs - even more so if I don't have a butch on my arm. Dykes look at me for a second, then glance over me.' However, it's never stopped her glamming it up or being out and proud - but she does experience ambivalence about her identity: 'Being an Indian dyke makes me feel more torn - wanting to be visible as an Indian dyke who's femme, kinky, bold and brash without getting cut off from all of my communities.' Femme invisibility in the straight world is odd, given the media niche that's been carved out for feminine lesbians in the last 15 years or so. Broadsheet trend pieces on 'Lipstick Lesbians' in the late 80s paved the way for current programmes like The L Word, and many a soap and film has since featured a 'long-haired lezza' snog. Debate rages about whether those images are authentic or if they're just a watered-down, mainstream media-friendly version of the images we see in made-for-men lesbian porn. What's undeniable, however, is that feminine lesbians do occupy exclusively the acceptable end of dyke visibility in the media. We're seen a hell of a lot more than masculine dykes. But somehow that media feminine queer visibility hasn't translated to the real world. We're still perceived as available to men when we get read as straight. Barbara remembers walking home from a gay pub in Hackney by herself just after she arrived in the UK: 'I wasn't prepared for what happened. I was followed, harassed - one man even grabbed me by the arm and tried to drag me into a doorway. I got away, but he followed me, smashing bottles and calling me names.' Lois expands on this: 'Femmes don't experience homophobia as much as butches do, but we're the victims of sexism, rather. We're more likely to be eroticised, sexually harassed, diminished, belittled - not queer-bashed. We're easier to dismiss because we don't challenge the status quo like butches do - we don't challenge what it means to be a man, or men's prerogative, which is the root of homophobia.' Kath argues that, because of this, female masculinity and boyishness has sometimes been more highly prized among dykes than femininity: 'It's because of visibility - and because female masculinity is commonly understood to signify lesbianism. It's more challenging to the straight world because it's not the default setting for how women should be and look. If you were deliberately going to select an identity [with which] to be transgressive, you wouldn't pick being a bird as a first choice!' Does this produce hostility towards us from other lesbians - because it's easy for us? Seema thinks back to the 80s: 'There was a mistrust of long hair, of femme-looking girls. I don't know if they thought I was bisexual, or if it was a disdain because I could pass in the straight world.' Beyond the 80s, the drag king phenomenon has continued dykes' ongoing love affair with female masculinity - and some would argue that this was at the expense of queer femininity. Says Kath: 'At one point, it seemed that the whole drag king thing was completely eclipsing the girls. Everyone was seduced by the moustaches and packages!' Lois agrees - controversially: 'The upsurge in masculinity in lesbian communities has calmed down. That shot of testosterone - it got to me. Butches all over the place were transitioning - I, as a femme, felt sidelined; I felt a rise in sexism in our communities. It was a denial of the feminine, a celebration of the masculine. I have no problem with people doing that on an individual level, but on a community level, there are things to be said about the denial of the feminine, the introduction of sexist dynamics.' But it's changing: 'Femme visibility is starting to compete with drag king and transgender masculinity - it's expressing itself through burlesque, in the queer environments. Young femmes are coming out of the woodwork - it's not just about drag kings now - there's room for us,' Lois adds. We're donning our basques, fishnets and feather boas - watch out, world. And, as Kath says, no matter how much we adore a handsome butch, 'What a boring world it would be without us drag queens.' http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=347 Gay weddings aren't just an opportunity to sample bridesmaids, babes in dog-collars, and other tasy morsels at the reception buffet. KYRA ALEXIS gets out the Argos catalogue It seems that my legions of fans have formed the impression that yours truly is a hard-hearted monster, in sole pursuit of designer underwear, sexy ladies and exquisitely prepared cuts of dead animal. Let me assure you, hand on heart, I do have a softer side. I like puppies, provided they're quiet and housetrained and belong to someone else. The same goes for babies. I like musicals, as long as there's plenty of nudity and/ or it's Hedwig and the Angry Inch. And I love - I mean, really love - a good wedding. Ah yes, weddings. What could be more congenial to a Predatory Homosexual? The proud parents, the bickering bridesmaids, middle-aged women desperate for reassurance that they're not too old, young women in slinky new outfits feeling irrepressibly grown-up, the occasional beatific babe in a dog collar - woof! Don't knock sex with a lady vicar - and the blushing bride, suddenly realising that she's just condemned herself to a lifetime of howlingly dull sex with just one person. And that person is usually doing himself no favours by yacking up his fried-egg-'n'-Alka-Seltzer breakfast round the back of the chapel. And, did I mention the whole thing is awash with enough booze to float a cruise liner? Honestly, it's a wonder I still get invited. I've spent hours at receptions patiently explaining 'The Situation' to old biddies. I thought I'd got rid of all that when I started wearing an 'I Heart Pussy' badge You can tell it's the New Millennium, mind, and not just from the sudden proliferation of clergy who actually look good in a dress. In years past, I've spent hours at various receptions, patiently explaining 'The Situation' to old biddies in hats who wanted to know when it was going to be my turn. I thought I'd got rid of all that when I started fixing my buttonhole with an 'I Heart Pussy' badge. Nowadays, they just shake their blue rinses sagely and say, 'Well dear, in this day and age, you don't have to miss out just because you're a raging rug-muncher; I saw this thing about it on Channel 4'. Depending on how much free Champagne I've quaffed, I either smile sweetly or agree that, no, it doesn't, but the fact that I have the sexual morals of an alley cat on a stag weekend in Faliraki might preclude that possibility at present. So that's me: absolutely not the marrying kind. Until now. This summer, you see, I had the great privilege of attending two gay weddings. One couple - let's call them Gertrude and Alice - had a very moving multi-faith vegan potluck and sit-in to honour their commitment, affirm their partnership, and celebrate the fact that they last had sex in 1997. And the other couple - let's call them Wayne and Kevin - hired Berkshire for the afternoon, and exchanged vows and Life Insurance policies on a floating island in a 40-acre heart-shaped lake of pink Perrier Jouet 1977. I'm not sentimental as a rule, but when the pool boy arrived with the matching 48-carat, diamond-encrusted cock rings I started filling up, I really did. I didn't actually burst into unquenchable floods of tears, though, until I got home and opened my credit card statement. I mean, Ye Gods and Little Fishies! What was happening to it all?! There were the hats, obviously - I'd never begrudge a chance to splash out on some new designer millinery. Ditto shoes. Ditto just-in-case pulling lingerie. No, what really blew an unwelcome hole in my vintage Armagnac and jellybean fund was the endless stream of more or less utterly useless household items I'd been shelling out for all summer long. You know the stuff; smoothie-makers, fondue sets, rechargable electric toothbrushes - so at least one poor abandoned footie widow won't be totally stuck for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. No, screw the inheritance rights, the Family Access laws and the dignity: what our breeding brethren are really up to is a brilliant scam that justifies them sitting down with an Argos catalogue and going, 'I want that and that, and that and one of those, and a complete set of those', in the manner of a small child at Christmas. And then - this is the brilliant part - they actually get the stuff, unlike the small child at Christmas, who's guaranteed another bloody Spirograph. And the hetero-patriarchal hegemony has been keeping us away from the gimmies for too long, damn it! It's time to make a stand! So, in order to get married, you need three things. You need a list of stuff you want, you need a like-minded and qualified celebrant, and you need a spouse-to-be, preferably one of sound mind and not already married to somebody else. The last part's the easiest, provided you have a decently stocked address book or, at the very least, access to eBay. The second part can be tricky, but fortunately my next-door-neighbour's niece's girlfriend is an ordained priest, so that was ok. Well, she has a GCSE in Religious Studies, but she did a very nice job and was extremely resourceful in handling the difficult part, after 'if anybody knows of any reason why these women should not be joined in holy matrimony'. Without even calling the police. But it all made no difference because I got cold feet, cad that I am. I just couldn't go through with it. Not for all the household items in the universe. So I'll be sparing you 'The Predatory Homosexual's Guide to Alimony Proceedings'. My spouse-to-be and I came to an arrangement, and we all went to Pizza Express instead. But I did get that multi-function blender I've been coveting for so long, and somebody else did pay for me to get pyrotechnically drunk, and I did get to watch all my maiden aunts get weasled on half a Babycham and fall over their handbags in approximate time to The Macarena. And I did get a really big cake and five of the bridesmaids to take home with me afterwards - which is, after all, the main thing. http://www.divamag.co.uk/diva/features.asp?AID=346 'Look at this.' Susanne Oberbeck rummages among a pile of magazines by her bed and produces a tattered tabloid bearing the image of a reclining popstrel, her chest bizarrely obscured by a large, empty rectangle. Beside it screams the headline: RACHEL STEVENS WITH NO BRA! By Louise Carolin 'It's not even good English,' remarks Oberbeck, pedantically. 'It should say, "Rachel Stevens without a bra" They must have thought it looked cool.' (Softly spoken, she enunciates italics more plainly than anyone you've ever heard.) Her disdain is clear, but if it weren't for the conventions of the red-tops, she wouldn't have a name for her band. No Bra's first single was released in August to acclaim. Munchausen is a dark satire on contemporary social mores, spoken over a thumping electronic beat, in which Oberbeck and band mate Dale Cornish exchange increasingly crazy and exaggerated boasts, culminating in the ridiculous: 'I was cremated once'. 'Really?' counters the other, 'I think I fancy you'. 'We wanted to "absurdify" the idea of achievement,' explains Oberbeck. 'Typical male competitiveness taken to the limit. It's a parody of a certain kind of British culture.' Hailing from Germany, Oberbeck has lived in Britain for 13 years, but still observes this country's ways with an outsider's eye. It's something she seems comfortable with, an 'un-belonging' that allows her to see more clearly. Tall and lanky, with a high forehead and androgynous features, her waist-length, reddish hair serves to emphasise her lack of other con