Hollywood Glamorization of Lipstick Lesbians Leaves Proud Butch Dykes Out of Television

I used to think I was born in the wrong age. Perhaps I should have been alive during the early 1900’s to fight for women’s rights. Then I realized: I would have been killed. I am an opinionated, outspoken, Wiccan, lesbian, with a set of brass balls the size of Texas. I repeat. I would have been killed. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I would have died a hero. Because I would have died fighting injustice. There are still many injustices going on in the world today. And I could die fighting anyone of them. Not my intention by any means, but reality none the less.

Reality. I’ll wager I was born in exactly the right age. Between Hollywood’s glamorized portrayals of “on screen lipstick lesbians” (straight actresses who go home to their husbands/boyfriends, etc) and once unabashedly lesbian comediennes lining up for the “straight” and narrow networks, well, I see an avenue opening up. Media as an unwitting accomplice to slowly infiltrate television with mullet and flannel wearing bull dykes of the “Cops” variety. Or perhaps we can take it a step further and introduce the cropped haired, tattooed, wife-beater wearing lesbians. Oh, what fun we could have in this Hollywood sponsored revolution of lesbianism.

First and foremost, the glamorization of lesbianism is built on marketing directed at straight males, not lesbians. Of course, little in Hollywood accurately portrays reality. This being the case our first order of business is to inundate Reality TV with butch contestants. I’m talking greasy mechanic dykes, rugby dykes, dykes on bikes, baby dykes in training, police and fire dykes, military dykes…Hell, I’m calling all dykes. Come on ladies, I mean “dykemen” (to borrow a friend’s term), let’s stomp our collective dyke feet. We deserve accurate Hollywood representation.

I’m tired of hyper-thin lipsticks acting like stereotypical horror flick women in the truly romanticized portrayal of women who are intimate with women. I want to see the big bad brave dyke jump because she saw a little bitty spider. Then go out and kick Jason’s ass because brave dyke happened to be wearing shit kickers, not high heeled shoes-unlike horror flick chick. (There really are women on this planet who go camping wearing boots, not heels). And while horror flicks misrepresent women in general, big bad brave dyke represents all those powerful woman qualities generally squashed by Hollywood.

In fact, to stop Hollywood from squashing true dykedom, I think we should also send the dykes into newsrooms every where. Can you imagine the 6 o’clock news being brought to you by GQ dyke in her three piece suit and close cropped hair-do? Perhaps, I’m still a little a head of my time. I doubt the Katie Couric’s of this world will move over for GQ dykes.

Regardless of whether Hollywood and local newsrooms open their lenses to include dykes or continue to hide behind the façade of lipsticks, one day there will be a revolution. Proud dykes from sea to sea will band together to support others of the lesbian stereotype most ignored and misrepresented by television. And on that particular day I’ll salute my distressed American flag, strap on my flight boots, jump in my truck and join the cause. Simply because I’m an All-American Dyke.