It’s easy to write off women’s lands as an artifact of the past, and the dykes are particularly sensitive on the subject. “We’re still here,” more than one lesbian has told me. “We still exist!” Despite the toll of time, women’s land communities persist, and they’re trying to adapt. The landdykes are afraid of being forgotten, and with good reason:... See more
On the other hand, if a landdyke transitioned to being a man—as several eventually did—then the dykes had to decide whether or not he could stay on the land, as he was no longer lesbian nor woman.
For many women, identifying politically as a lesbian didn’t necessarily indicate a sexual preference but rather a commitment to the ideals of a women-centric world where men (and sex) need not be part of the equation
Living on women’s land was an experiment in building paradise. The landdykes terraced mountain hillsides into gardens. They pooled unemployment and food stamps. They built yurts, cabins, and houses by hand. They shat in 5-gallon buckets and pissed wherever they liked. In the winter, they stoked fires in wood stoves to keep warm; in the summer, they... See more
Because if you don’t meet your own soul before you meet another person’s, you’ll build a home in theirs and forget you ever had your own. You’ll confuse being wanted with being known . And that, more than loneliness, is the thing that will hollow you out.
‘A canvas is never empty,’ says Cage, quoting Rauschenberg, and 4’33” bears that out, as random ambient sound – coughing, shifting, programmes rustling – becomes a kind of music. These works illustrate the impossibility of saying nothing: to represent nothing is to negate it by turning it into something – an image, a piece of music, a reflection of... See more