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,