No, I Don’t Have A Crush On You: A Tribute to the LBF

By Savannah Brooks ‘26

Managing Editor

“So, am I your type?” A phrase that every lesbian has heard at least once. Ah, the life of a lesbian. We watch as our gay male counterparts (the GBFs) hang on the arms of their “homo honey” girlfriends like a knockoff Versace bag, waving to us as they pass but never stopping their straight girlfriends from calling us gross, or predatory, or mean, or any other derogatory remarks they insert in favor of “dyke-ish,” which has now gone out of style. Never will they refer to us as their LBF; we are not, nor will we ever be, in fashion.

When we come out to our straight female friends early on in life, we usually receive the panicked look; “Wait, she saw me changing in the locker room,” they think, shuddering in horror when they imagine our eyes locking on their sports bra and panties (no less than they expose with their bikinis in the summertime). We are met with uncomfortable eyes when we suggest sleepovers, we are turned away from girly gossip and us lesbians who show any sign of masculinity (I wear a blazer in professional settings… that doesn’t make me butch, Emily) are forced to find solace with the male athletes who may or may not see us as “one of the guys.” Never will they ask us, when we reveal our sexuality: “So, am I your type?” 

“Do you have sleepovers with your girlfriend?” Anyone under 18… get your parent’s permission to read this paragraph (wink). Lesbians (breaking news) are, in many ways, just like everyone else! We have sex (and no, I’m not describing to you how), we have relationships, we kiss, we fight, all of the above. When we disclose to others, however, our relationship status (yes, I have a girlfriend, why is it so hard for you to see me as a sexual being) they feel that they must ask questions. Their new LBF is an all-knowing Lesbian God, able to bestow all of the knowledge of scissoring and fingering and all they, as the Straight Worshipper have to do, is ask (in a very public place to a lesbian they have never taken notice of before surrounded by five other straight girls aptly listening once they tune in to the lesbian sex part). So, they ask, brazenly and without thought to whether or not the Lesbian God in front of them is a real human being: “Do you have sleepovers with your girlfriend?”

“Are you into femmes or dykes?” Here we come to the strict categorizations of lesbians. So often, non-lesbians speak of these categories in a way that indicates they have not once met a lesbian before. My dear reader, a “dyke” is not a type of lesbian. That word is a slur, and a lesbian legally has the right to slap you across the face if you use that word in front of them (according to the Lesbian Testament). Please stop calling women mascs on the internet because they are not in a dress. And, when you find out a friend is a lesbian, do not express your understandable excitement by asking: “Are you into femmes or dykes?”

“She is always talking about being a lesbian.” Well… I actually don’t have a rebuttal for this. Maybe I am. So what? To the person who told my very gay male friend this about me in high school — why does that make you uncomfortable? Does my fierce love for women and my undying passion for my lesbian sisters unnerve you? I have to say, I am confident that I am much more unnerved by the continued subjugation, persecution and downright hatred directed toward lesbians by worldwide governments, the American media and the people around me. This upcoming Pride Month, listen to your local lesbian (we come first in the acronym for a reason). And don’t ask them any of these questions.

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