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Langrock Sperry & Wool offers the services of 22 lawyers with over 300 years combined experience in all areas of the law —- including two lesbian attorneys with special expertise serving the legal needs of the g/1/b/t/q community SUSAN MURRAY & BETH ROBINSON With offices in Middlebury and Burlington Middlebury (802) 388-6556 Burlington (802) 864-0217 smurray@langrock.com brobinson@langrock.com Langrock Sperry & Wool, LLP ATTORNEYS AT LAW Assimilation ometimes I hate hets. ’ Excuse me, my mother tried to teach me never to use the word “hate.” Instead she recom- mended “intensely dislike.” Whatever. I try to be this positive, loving, accepting, non-judgmental person, but heterosexuals - we can all name exceptions — and their per- vasive culture sometimes sorely try my patience. ' I realize that it’s not directly their fault that Oscar Wilde Books in New York City, the world’s first gay bookstore, may be forced into bankruptcy, just as I realize it is not entirely the fault of George Bush that the U.S. appears to be chomping at the bit to get at Iraq. Blame is easy to assign; responsibility is a much more com- plex matter. It may be true that some gay writers are putting links to Amazon.com on their websites, and that most readers, myself included, generally will take the easiest, least expensive route to reading a book, but I wonder if our inability to pri- oritize our purchasingdecisions is not deeply rooted in our heterosexist upbringing. It is so easy to participate in the culture of the majority. Turn on the TV and what do you get: 99.9 percent het programming. Go to the movies and what do you see: 99.9 percent romanticized renditions of het life. Peruse the library shelves and what can you select from: 99.9 percent‘ are books, videotapes and CDs by, for and about people who experience the world very different- ly than do most people who are reading this column. When the Oscar Wilde first opened in 1967 I was living in the closet in Connecticut, a new col- lege grad with sevenyears’ experi- ence in quietly haunting libraries, straight bookshops, comer drug- stores and newspaper stores in search of gay literature. The thought that there could be one physical space that would house what had taken me years to find was incom- prehensible. That there were people in the world brave enough to risk their lives staffing such an empori- um of variance just blew me away. It took a while to work up the courage to visit the Oscar Wilde, but my need for it overcame my fear. The store was not on Christopher Street then. Christopher Street as we now know it wasn’t even on Christopher Street. The Stonewall riots had not yet changed the face of the gay universe and no magazine bore the name of that still sleepy street. The Oscar Wilde was some blocks east, a tiny storefront that I found awe-inspiring, comfort- ing and terrifying all at once. I was very nervous, not only that I’d be seen, but that I wouldn’t be seen, wouldn’t be able to make some con- nection with other literary warriors. Here I was, surfacing from a life underground — I wanted to shout my existence and muffle myself. Life has never been the same — for any of us — since the Oscar Wilde took its stand at the portals of gay liberation. I have always associated its opening with the Stonewall Riots — having a gay commercial enterprise in the great- est city in the world legitimized us in a way nothing else could in a capitalist country. The founders of that bookstore sold notjust books, but courage and strength. And now the Oscar Wilde may be closing. It’s a matter of being careful, as they say in 12 step groups, what you pray for.Back in 1967 I was not alone in wanting acceptance, a safe place in the world. When gay lib came along, although I walked the gay pride route giddy with excitement and a feeling of empowerment, something in me was uneasy. Would normaliz- ing gayness lead to demystifying it? Would being gay be viewed as nor- mal instead of special? Because I have always felt special and, yes, I admit it, superior, to the hets with N I-5’: On The Dangers o tions which got us to this place. And it’s all true. Many of us don’t have to struggle today. For every ten les- . bian teachers who play it cool in school, there is one who teaches gay lit to her English classes. Which of them is more invisible? Which of them is most likely to buy a book at the Oscar Wilde? Ironically, neither. ' And that’s why I, at times, intensely dislike hets. Either way they’re still calling the shots. Whether I’m scared and suspicious of them (I’m both) or basking in their acceptance and approval (I want both), I am Other. It is not time to let go ofthe infrastructure that has given birth to a fearless generation no more than it is time to give up an inch of the bloodied ground we have gained. Some high- ly visible non-gay people may accept us, but that doesn’t mean they’ve let go of seeing themselves as the norm and gay people as deviant. They may invite us to their parties and give us domestic partner benefits, but that doesn’t mean they want their kids to come out. I am so tired of their arrogant chauvinism, their assumption of having the cor- rect sexuality — of their'sexual impe- rialism. l’d almost rather be reviled than tolerated and, in truth, believe There’s a lotof talk about assimilation these days. About how we've made it into the mainstream and have become so complacent that we don't support the very institutions which got us to this place. all their privileges and blood ties ‘and mini-me’s. While I, and many like me, came out early enough to have roots in the old secret society -kind of gay world, others threw them- selves whole-heartedly into the new era. Coming out to family and socie- ty now became as much a rite of passage as coming out itself. Sustenance was suddenly available and encouraged in the form of an accessible gay culture that included books and our own politicians, dances and our own church. We became a people, a sometimes romanticized and ennobled tribe. We claimed our place in the sun. And then we got swal- lowed up. The lesbi-gay businesses are shutting down one by one. What were we thinking to give non-gays control of our culture by letting them distribute, then sell, then record or film or publish us? There’s a lot of talk about assimilation these days. About how we’ve made it into the mainstream and have become so complacent that we don’t support the very institu- for all their liberal posturing, that deep down I am reviled. It’s hard for a marginal- ized people to reject the crumbs of safety and privilege tossed by those who haven’t let go of an ounce of power. It’s hard not to leave icons of struggle like the Oscar Wilde_ behind. It’s hard to resist the seduc- tiveness of the unwitting benevolent despots we call family of birth or straight friends or accepting co- workers. We probably won’t. It’ll take inevitable het betrayals before we understand that assimilation is just another closet. We can reverse our losses — and our deceptive gains — by taking back our culture before we lose it too. V © 2002 by Lee Lynch Lee Lynch is the author of eleven books including The Swashbuckler and the Morton River Valley Trilogy. She lives on the Oregon ~ Coast and comes from a New England family.