So this probably should have been my first post, but I enjoy being unexpected. Plus, as much as this chick is the literal definition of a lesbian in every possible way you could think of it, she’s also kind of antiquated at this point. It’s kind of like how The Price of Salt was the big lesbian book for decades and then 90s happened and we have all this other stuff. That’s Sappho, except for like, thousands of years or whatever.
For those of you under a rock, the word “lesbian” comes from people who inhabited the Isle of Lesbos off the coast of Greece. It has this association with lady loving because Sappho, a frequenter of this island, wrote some pretty gay shit. She wrote a lot of poetry and, despite what uptight academics want you to think about it, she has some uber personal relationships with some of these women (but you know, we all write longing poetry for our best gal pals). Take for example, this little diddy:
I have not had one word from her
Frankly I wish I were dead
When she left, she wept
a great deal; she said to me, “This parting must be
endured, Sappho. I go unwillingly.”
I said, “Go, and be happy
but remember (you know
well) whom you leave shackled by love
And that’s just the first few lines. And that’s not even the best example. A lot of her stuff is a little too adult for me to post on here with Abby somehow finding out and banning my permissions. Like it gets crazy erotic. We’re talking fanfiction level of descriptions about some of the stuff she got up to (or wanted to get up to) with the other women on this island.
The problem is, a lot of people still use the excuse of “women were just really close to each other” to try and take the queer lens of Sappho’s stuff. Well I will gladly let a chick borrow a tampon but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go out and write a poem about how much I’m going to want to kill myself because we’ve parted ways out of the bathroom. Sure, we all have best friends but fuck if I’m gonna write any of them poetry. I WILL however, craft some artistic shit for a hot girl. If I was like…artistic at all. But I try. It’s my charm that wins ‘em.
Point is, don’t let any stuffy, tweed jacket professor try and tell you we’re grossly misinterpreting Sappho’s poems and intended audience. This chick had a slew of girlfriends in her life and wasn’t afraid to be blunt about it. Things are called “sapphic” for a reason. Don’t let the man tell you otherwise.
Stay classy pals.
