“She said the sign could cause discomfort to participants with penises. ”

A few years ago, the lesbian feminists who had long organized the San Francisco Dyke March, with entertainment in Dolores Park before the March, decided they were spent. The younger women who stepped up are of a generation that sees lesbians as “queer,” and have an “expansive” definition of “dyke.” Contacts in City Hall are still willing to do things like coordinate with the Municipal Railway for temporary transit rerouting, and the Castro LGBTQ Cultural District has sponsored things like porta-potties. The new Dyke March Committee has been unable to organize pre-march entertainment. 

Not long ago, transactivists and their allies physically harassed older lesbian feminists who took part in the Dyke March with gender critical signs, one of which they admit was on the rude side. One older woman was knocked to the ground, and a bystander picked up her cane and waved it to create space for her. Someone ran to the gay media claiming the “TERFs” had attacked transactivists, and that became the narrative. Even the National Center for Lesbian Rights, shamefully, repeated it without verifying the claim.

Angered by this, I began attending the public meetings of the Dyke March Committee. I reported what had happened to the older dykes, and made positive suggestions about safety for all. For one, the Committee should concern itself with safety for all, not just for trans participants. I presented a sample safety statement about people cheering on their side rather than harassing the other side, and suggested monitors be trained to nudge gender critical feminists and transactivists away from each other. 

Nothing I said swayed the Committee from its focus on making the Dyke March safe for trans participants, nor from seeing them as the only group that might face hostility. 

So, I decided to “represent” with a sign stating “I am a LESBIAN. Respect my sexual orientation.” It had a male genitals icon under the Vienna Convention universal road sign for NO (a red circle with a red slash across it), and a vulva icon in the universal YES/GO of (a green circle, this comprised of a circle of green hearts). Out of fear, I mounted it on plywood with a metal garden stake for a handle, and lugged it while wearing a bicycle helmet and heavy hiking boots. I meant to prevent the sign’s destruction and violence against my person. 

Fortunately, I experienced no incidents, and got a number of favorable responses to the sign. 

This year, I carried a cardboard sign on a wooden stick and wore a pair of regular hiking shoes, feeling less apprehensive about physical harassment. All went well. Again, I got positive comments and smiles. All along the route, I was fairly near a small drum contingent, happy to be keeping up with the flow of the march and not slowed by a knee that’s not what it used to be. 

Ironically, the drumming would make it difficult to engage in conversation with the Dyke March Committee member who came up to me on Market Street before the turn on to Castro to tell me my sign was “inappropriate.” I was welcome, she said, but I had to remove the sign from the March. My response was that a sign affirming my lesbian sexuality was, actually, entirely appropriate for a Dyke March. She said it could cause discomfort to participants with penises. 

Focused on maintaining an accessible demeanor and communicating professionally, I passed on this opportunity for a sarcastic reply. I repeated my assertion on my sign’s appropriateness, and told her I disagreed with her assessment and would not remove it from the March. Eventually she gave up.

It was a shame that the ambient noise prevented a more substantive exchange, because I had things to say to her about what I considered an act of attempted lesbian erasure. With all due respect to my heterosexual feminist sisters, as well as to the cool men in my life, I was out to make a point about a key premise of lesbian rights: Every woman has an absolute right to say yes to lady parts and no to the almighty penis. 

A second point I would have made was a riff from an old cartoon series: “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred.” I was not hostile to trans participants in the Dyke March per se. I do, however, expect them to know what they’re getting into, which includes possible exposure to explicit statements of lesbian sexual boundaries such as mine. The San Francisco Dyke March was created by female homosexuals for female homosexuals. A certain amount of anarchism is baked in: It will always belong to female homosexuals, no matter what vision statements for it new “queer” organizers may espouse. 

Finally, the emotional needs and desires of people with penises are not lesbians’ responsibility—nor are they any woman’s responsibility (unless taken on voluntarily). It was not up to me to express myself in a way that would make trans participants feel safe. As it was, I stated a sexual boundary without hostility. If anyone took it as a shot across their bow, maybe they needed to do so. 

I will read up on the new “queer” organizers’ code of conduct to be prepared to pick it apart if need be. I may attend next year’s public organizing meetings in case my approach to making pro-lesbian statements becomes a topic of planning discussions. I reckon I need to carry that sign again next year, if only to demonstrate my pro-lesbian beliefs have not been stifled. I believe, they are, basically, pro-woman beliefs even if not applicable to all women. 

I take heart knowing that I come from long lines of feisty folks, and feisty female ancestors. I like to think I made them proud at the San Francisco Dyke March.

Letters From the Front is a series from WoLF curating stories from women about how “gender identity” ideology has impacted them. We’ll share new letters, submitted anonymously, each week. Write in to share your own story!

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