Third Girl from the Left

by Christine Barker

That he was ignorant and arrogant enough to use a term meant to shame Laughlin, Martin, Tom, and all my friends was despicable, convenient, and typical, because the late seventies dynamic for every female I knew was this: Straight men stood at the top of the pyramid and employed whatever tactics they needed to keep it that way, which likely was harder in the theater business because gay men were among the most talented and successful. Gay men were also the only ones willing to mentor girls. Girls wanted to be taught, to learn, rise in the ranks. Mentoring, for most straight men, meant sex, which girls—even if they choose to put up with it—didn’t prioritize. Girls wanted careers.

Getting pregnant was bad luck. I did not feel guilty; I felt stupid and angry that sex was between two people, even though only one suffered the consequences. Men already controlled my appearance, my weight, and my livelihood, but I’d fight to my dying day before I’d let any man decide when I was going to be a mother, especially because having a baby would likely end my career.

Most all women who invite others into their lives are acrobats flying from one platform to another. It’s just the gooey power of being female that makes it look natural when it’s NOT natural at all. It is not natural for us to be asked to live in the world as halfpeople, often having to put the many authentic aspects of our selves aside.

When the crisis arose, I did not blink; I faced it straight on and did what needed to be done. I loved Laughlin. And I also love you, Daddy, but these new, fresh tears are for you, because you are stuck. When you had a choice, you chose what would make you small.