Last week, we looked at Title IX and the impact it has had for women on the playing field, in the classroom and in the faculty offices of colleges. While I mentioned poverty as a place from which stories are not often told, in addition to the contributions of women to causes, there are other “minority” statuses that are often excluded. One of these is the status of non-white women in sports and in college, and the other is the marginal position of lesbian women. This week, we’ll look at ODD GIRL OUT, which was a pulp novel and yet which voiced the feelings of many women in the 1960s.
Ann Bannon is the pen name of a woman author who published a series of books about young lesbian coeds in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Her books, of course, flew under the radar of serious reviewers, yet gained a steady following and readership. Like books today that baffle publishing houses and professional reviewers alike, the popularity of the “Beebo Brinker Chronicles” also surprised even the author herself. Bannon wrote from her experience, fresh out of college, with suspicions about her classmates’ sexual orientation, and a curiosity about a way of life that she did not dare consider seriously herself.
Bannon’s books captivate readers and researchers, who marvel at the early forays into the lesbian experience that her books explore. Readers find kindred, albeit dated, spirits in characters such as Laura in ODD GIRL OUT. These young women found themselves disarmingly not attracted to men, and just as disarmingly attracted to women. Their lesbian experiences were often quiet amongst women themselves, some of whom were merely experimenting with what, especially at the time, was “safe sex” where they would not earn a reputation. For others, these experiences were an awakening to the sexuality that confused them, and that they had attempted to deny. For this reason, the early inklings of lesbian leanings, as presented by Laura in ODD GIRL OUT, allowed many readers to finally feel normal about their own feelings of love for and attraction to women.
Bannon writes in the introduction to ODD GIRL OUT that she was touched by letters she’d receive from women who thanked her for making them feel normal—finally. She shares with us that the women who wrote to her expressed gratitude for her frankness, which helped them have hope for love in their own lives. The author admits that she, herself, used her characters to explore what she felt was also forbidden to her. She could be a butch lesbian through a character in a book, and she could experience lesbian love and sex this way, as well.
Reading ODD GIRL OUT, and especially Bannon’s introduction, I am reminded (again) of the stories of women being marginalized. Even as lesbianism and bisexuality is touted as “hot” in the mainstream world of young women today, it is through the lens of male beholders and for male entertainment. Lesbians, especially those who do not conform to the standards of femininity in our society, still face the discrimination and marginalization they always have endured. Books like ODD GIRL OUT give voice to lesbians coming to terms with their burgeoning sexuality, as they normalize the feelings of these women—feelings that are personal, internal, connected to the heart and not lesbianism as public display for entertainment.
The other aspect of ODD GIRL OUT I’d like to discuss is the fact that as we have more acceptance of alternative sexuality than ever before, some of this labels men and women, when in the past it did not. Bannon’s character, Laura, discovers herself as a lesbian. However, her female partner, Beth, while she enjoys her sexual exploits with Laura, is ultimately not a lesbian. In decades past, men engaging in sexual acts with men in adolescence were not labeled. Female junior high, high school and college students could engage in same-sex interactions, and actually never think of themselves as lesbian. Today, it seems, if one even “practices kissing” with a classmate or friend, sexuality comes into question right away. I think that as we move toward acceptance and understanding of varieties of sexuality, we need to resist labeling until we are more developed. It seems quaint to read about Bannon’s characters engaging in same-sex interactions, even while many of them never questioned their end-game sexuality. Certainly, women may learn that their friend with whom they practiced kissing grows up to embrace a lesbian lifestyle, while she embraces that of heterosexuality. This should also be considered normal development.
This is the last of my four-part series exploring the books required for a U.S. Women’s History course offered by the University of Maine, Farmington. I’ve invited students from the course to contribute guest posts later in the semester to inContext, so we may hear some fresh voices that further explore some of the topics we’ve covered. I hope readers of inContext have enjoyed this series, and are heartened that rather than the standard U.S. History course in college, that the University of Maine at Farmington includes this offering, which is a more inclusive and personal history, and tells the story of ordinary lives and people, especially women, who have made great strides and contributed a great deal to the status of women in our current society and culture.
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