Ever since I have openly identified as a lesbian I’ve regularly been faced with the following conversation:
A: So your lesbian?
Me: Yep
A: Have you ever been with a guy?
Me: Nope.
A: Oh you’re so lucky, you don’t have to deal with guys like the rest of us do.
While I understand the sentiment and frustration of many straight and queer women who date men, I always find this conversation frustrating. Despite my lack of attraction to or interest in ment, their interest towards me has not ceased. Like any other woman I have been objectified, faced danger, and endured a multitude of uncomfortable situations in the hands of men showcasing interest towards me. Contrary to what many people like to assume, my experiences of danger have only been enhanced since I’ve identified as a lesbian.
Same-sex attraction between women has long been fetishized – whether through porn, common sexual fantasies involving “getting in the middle” of two women, or media portrayals of lesbianism as something you “tried in college” before you found the right guy. Generations of lesbian have gone through the same experiences of objectification and bewilderment. We are often viewed as objects to gawg at by both men and women alike, frequently navigating uncomfortable spaces filled with requests for threesomes, sexual belittlement, and the romanticization of our relationships. Lesbians are either cast as someone’s deepest sexual fantasy or as “relationship goals,” characterized by stereotypes like U-hauling or over-the-top depictions of intense, passionate love affairs where we supposedly cross oceans for someone we’ve just met. These are the same tropes people feel compelled to share with their local lesbian during a night out.In addition to these uncomfortable encounters, the real threat of violence faced by lesbians when putting themselves out there is often overlooked. This is due to a mix of hetero-pessimism and the unfortunate reality that relationships between women are not taken as seriously—they don’t fit into a heteronormative mold.
Frustrated by the ongoing conversation that centers being a subject beyond the male gaze, I set out to find stories from other FLINTA* women to showcase their experiences.
“Being made to feel like my love is less than, being discarded and seen as confused, or not met the right man yet, or oversexualized”, they/them, 28.
Recent studies indicate that while the rates of homophobia experienced by lesbians and their gay male counterparts are comparable, the nature of that homophobia differs significantly. Homophobia directed at lesbians by men often takes on a highly sexualized tone, whereas homophobia from women is more likely to stem from aggression or disgust. On the other hand, gay men are more prone to face overt aggression and hostility from straight men.
Lesbian relationships, however, are often tolerated to some degree because they align with porn-fueled fantasies. They are not afforded the respect of being seen as real, meaningful relationships but are instead reduced to mere spectacle. Many lesbians note that pornography and media depictions frequently trivialize or distort their relationships. For instance, lesbianism is often portrayed as either a temporary “phase” in college or as something hypersexualized and explicit, as seen in the film Blue Is the Warmest Color.
This movie, widely criticized for its excessively long and explicit sex scenes that reportedly made the actresses uncomfortable, exemplifies the stereotype of the overly explicit lesbian love affair. Such depictions perpetuate the harmful idea that lesbianism exists solely for male consumption. This cycle removes agency from lesbians, reducing them to objects of entertainment for the straight gaze and reinforcing the erasure of their authentic experiences.
“I think not enough talk about the issue is how much straight women tokenize lesbians. I’ve sat through so many conversations with straight women who could not stop telling me if they had a chance they would go down on a lesbian artist. How those women are so hot and so sexy and they think the sex with them would be so hot and wild and they look like women who know what they are doing. Many straight women really refuse to acknowledge how objectifying that is. Women so often like to pretend we are better than men when it comes to sexualization . But really, I have heard women say some of the most jaw droppingly sexualized things about lesbians. I think that’s cause they don’t see the actual person behind there, to them lesbians or sapphics are just some entity, not a real person but like a conquest or something you tried in college and they don’t realize how hurtful that is, how itchy it makes you feel is exactly the same feeling I get when men talk about women like that. The gross men I’ve met in my life have been plenty, but I don’t think it truly has been a match for some of the gross women I’ve met”. She/her, 23.
“Weird form of sexualization I’ve faced a lot recently is the romanization of female to female relationships. So many straight women seem to think that lesbian relationships are just always better and especially when it comes to sex so many women are like omg lesbians just have it better cos you can go on for hours and hours or that lesbian women are more likely to be service oriented partners, and buy u gifts and shit and give you the princess treatment. It’s really uncomfortable to try to explain to them that women can be shit too, and these are just stereotypes. Yes I love women but they can be as shitty, mean and abusive as men and I don’t think people realize when you romanticize these relationships it’s much harder for women who have had experiences of objectification, being used or abused by women to come forward. I have experienced abusive behavior from women I’ve dated and you know it hurt as much as when I faced similar behavior from men. But for one of them i was told i’m sorry to hear that, and for the other there is always a but after the sorry about how women are better. It’s dangerous to romanticize lesbian relationships, and it’s really no different than sexualizing them cos it’s really just a different form of the same shit”. She/Her/Them, 23.
In her 2010 master’s thesis, The Eroticization of Lesbianism by Heterosexual Men, Kristin Puhl finds that men not only place erotic value on lesbians but also experience as much sexual attraction toward lesbians as lesbians do toward other women. This means that heterosexual men feel the same level of attraction toward lesbian women as lesbian women feel toward their potential romantic or sexual partners. Remarkably, this occurs despite the fundamental understanding that lesbian women are not attracted to men and are unlikely to develop romantic or sexual feelings for them.
Why is this? Are two women perceived as “twice as sexy,” or is female sexuality inherently hypersexual when expressed outside heteronormative boundaries? According to Puhl, stereotypes play a significant role in shaping the perceived sexual value of lesbianism. A particularly influential stereotype is the concept of “lesbian bed death,” which suggests that sexual activity between women diminishes or ceases altogether without the presence of a male figure. This stereotype implies that female sexuality is dependent on men to exist or have meaning, perpetuating the idea that lesbians are still subject to male authority and male-centric interpretations of sexuality.
Notably, this dynamic reflects broader societal attitudes. Straight women, for example, are more likely to hold hostile and negative attitudes toward lesbian women than toward gay men. Studies show that straight women often exhibit higher levels of distrust and disgust toward lesbians, which contributes to the reduction of lesbians’ sexual identity and agency.
These findings underscore how sexist attitudes toward lesbians are pervasive and multifaceted. Lesbians face not only fetishization and objectification from heterosexual men but also hostility from straight women, reinforcing a broader cultural tendency to invalidate lesbian identity and autonomy.
Facing hostility, belittlement, disregard or even expressions of disgust, many lesbians report the lack of humanity and isolation they feel when viewed through the lens of their sexuality.
“Straight or even some queer women are not as much allies that they would like to think they are. The amount of conversations of how much they support the queer community and love pride i’ve heard, but then putting down on queer women for the violence and sexualization they face i’ve heard has made me very skeptical. I don’t think they realize that yeah life is safer in many places, but it’s not like we don’t face threat or violence, and many of them seem to also somehow feel the violence we face from men is less than what they face, and i will never understand that. Like we are women too, experiencing violence in the hands of men, why is it any different cos we are dating women? . Woman, 24.
“I think in many ways it only further complicated the way I viewed myself and my sexuality. The forces of compulsory heterosexuality / heteronormativity are hard especially on women. Part of me wanted to revolt and give a huge ‘fuck you’ to the world, part of me was inclined to conform. Partially perhaps it forced me to try and be with men, while that wasn’t always the best experience – I felt validated in society as suddenly my friends and family were way more genuinely interested in who I was dating. It took me a long time to try and understand my often fluid and complicated sexuality and I truly believe that all those societal pressures had a big role in that.” She/Her, 25.
When I was about 14, I took the famous Buzzfeed quiz, Am I Gay? If I remember correctly, my result was “bicurious.” About ten years, a few situationships, and a lot of feelings of isolation later, I stepped out of the glass closet and came to terms with the fact that I am a lesbian.
My experiences of queerness were very much shaped by the fact that I grew up in a very straight environment. Even though I studied in supposedly queer-friendly countries, and my family is very accepting, the feelings of loneliness and isolation didn’t go away for a very long time. It was only after I intentionally sought out lesbian friends that I realized how much subtle homophobia I had been facing—and how the way lesbians are talked about had made me hesitant to identify with the term.
“Ever since I came out in high school, there have been voices and echoes of belittling. They usually came in one of various forms. Amongst them were the classic: well you are just doing it for attention / this is a trend nowadays, or you are just experimenting and will end up with a man. I think partly I got such reactions because of my feminine expression, because friends that were more masculine presenting usually got quite the opposite (people disbelieving if they were actually bisexual). It seems that in a lot of people’s minds, they cannot imagine a feminine / ‘conventionally attractive’ girl to end up with anyone other than a man. Sadly most of these reactions I got from my own family, specifically from my mom. She has for years belittled lesbian sexuality, inclining how harder it is and how being with a man is the right choice for my future. Another and last form of belittlement I experienced at the hands of straight men that were interested in me. Usually they are fine with bisexuality – as long as it serves their deepest fantasies – they can’t however think of a relationship between two women as equally satisfying / or of equal footing in general to the heterosexual one (oh how they are wrong). I got reactions such as: well you haven’t been with me yet, or why don’t you want a ‘real dick’ instead of the plastic one. While over the years, it happens less so (at least in my own personal life), many of such prejudices still exist.” She/her, 25.
“Their point of view on my sexuality really affected me and especially since until then I did not have a romantic connection with a woman yet. Then when I finally did, I understood it a bit better and it has been years of me trying to shake off their prejudices and thoughts. It took me a long time and I am still unsure about my sexuality. But not instead of not being sure if I’m attracted to women it’s the other way around. I know I can feel deeply towards women and I don’t think I ever felt that way towards the men I’ve dated. Therefore why I identify as a homoromantic queer/lesbian now. Long way to respond, it made me feel invalidated and confused. Angry.” She/her, 26.
“I felt alienated from myself for a long time. I didn’t believe I could love, be affectionate, or have any type of relationship to my sexuality. It was an experience of being disconnected. And now it makes me sad, to think I had no tools in that context to see my sexuality, especially in any sort of positive light”.
I was never alone in my feelings of isolation, tokenization, or fear. Through the stories collected for this article, it became clear to me that, even when our experiences of objectification are dismissed, lesbian and FLINTA people are very much subject to the male gaze. This deeply hurtful and involuntary experience leaves many sapphic individuals navigating multitudes of backlash as they explore their sexuality in a deeply heteronormative world.
At the same time, they must cope with the heightened sense of unsafety that can come with openly expressing their sexuality, knowing that common experiences of sexualization often pose real danger. So, while I understand the frustration of those dating men or experiencing the male gaze in other ways, the stories shared here highlight an essential truth: we are all subjects of patriarchy, even if the forms of oppression we face differ.
Feautered Image: Linas Vaitonis
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