All I can do is say, "Yes yes! Listen to what all the other posters said!"
If I'd had more lesbian icons to look at and admire as a teen, I might never have made some nigh-life-destroying decisions (like trying to be straight) that I'm *still* recovering from.
The depiction of lesbianism I clung to almost exclusively for something like ten years: a three-panel spread in the comic book series _Camelot 3000_, where Tristan (reincarnated as a woman) and Isolde have a romp in their rose-bedecked bed (fully clothed), after Tristan has spent the entire series trying to become male again and failing.
I didn't have anything else. Sad. Except, of course, I went and fell in love with Tasha Yar, because she was cute, butch, and there was a vanishingly small possibility that she might be... oh, but then there was that tar monster. Never mind.
When things were falling apart with my last boyfriend, the woman destined to become my fabulous-sexy-marvelous Goddess of a partner started handing me books to read. _On Strike Against God_ by Joanna Russ. _Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit_ by Jeannette Winterson. _Queen of Swords_ by Judy Grahn. I devoured this "lesbian propaganda" (as the soon-to-be-ex called it in one of his loudest, longest rants of that month, while his boyfriend sat on his lap) and came out of those books a stronger person -- strong enough to really leave.
What the hell might I have accomplished seven years earlier if there had been *any* lesbians in the popular media that I consumed on a regular basis back then?
Sigh. And there's still part of me that aches to be able to watch a series, see a movie, pick up a book, whatever, where I can find women loving women in a way I can trust. In a genre I enjoy.
*kick kick KICK* Mutant Enemy.
LL
