[In response to Bryn Kelly’s Phone Sex question “Is sex political? If so, how? In what ways could our choice of partners be considered political? Would you ever hit it with someone whose politics you despise, and if so, how far is too far? Jenna Bush? Condi Rice? Ann Coulter?”]

In a society that represses women and queers to the extent that ours does, any type of sex is a political act. And dyke sex is especially political when you consider the repression we face as women, as queers and the fact that we struggle even among ourselves about the “right” way to fuck and still question each other’s gender presentation.

The first dyke porn magazine, On Our Backs, was a direct response to the anti-porn lesbian feminism of the '70s and early '80s. The title was a spin off the serious feminist periodical Off Our Backs. At that time, your politics could easily be summed up by whether you were reading On Our Backs or Off Our Backs at the local coffee shop. And if you wanted to get busy in the horizontal way, you’d better pick up someone perusing the former.

In 1984, when On Our Backs started publishing, we were just coming out of a sexless time. We wanted to downplay our desire and gender so that it couldn’t be used against us by the patriarchy. Think about it like this: proving we didn’t actually like sex could negate the old adage “She was asking for it.” Navigating our own desire, learning to embrace it amongst ourselves while also keeping it safe from the belittling effect of male objectification was and still is a struggle. At the time, we really didn’t know what else to do other than just hide it. On Our Backs was smut, but it was also a political statement that resonated within our own community: We’re here, we’re queer, we like to fuck.

I was very fortunate when I came on as editor of On Our Backs in 2001. My editorial choices were more celebratory than reactionary. Bulldagger leatherdyke handballing scene complete with Crisco? Sure! Femme/femme knife-play in full lingerie? Yes! I wanted more bondage, more transwomen, more transmen, more big girls, more femmes, more butches, more of everything and everyone. Bring it on. I firmly believed there was no such thing as the right way to have “lesbian sex” any more. If dykes were doing it, I wanted to show it.

The fights we had amongst ourselves have mostly been settled; it’s time to turn our focus to sex in the pubic sphere. Carol Hanisch points out in her 1969 essay, “The Personal is Political,” that women gathering together to talk about what is going on in their lives is a form of consciousness-raising and a precursor to direct action. Drawing from Marxist ideology, Hanisch believed that women’s problems are less about the individual and actually about women as a group. By her standards, much of our personal problems stem not from our own failures, but from the systematic, gender oppression we face. If we include our shame around sex and desire in Hanisch’s vision of female oppression, then these Phone Sex blogs on OurChart become a political act.

Take it a few steps further and attending sex parties, baring your tits at the dyke march, wearing whatever the hell you want, participating in the masturbate-a-thon and fucking in public are all political acts. Go ahead and raise that Hitachi in your clenched fist and declare your right to get off, baby. It’s good for the cause.

Bryn also asked if your choice of partner could be considered a political act. My answer to that is a resounding yes. Because there is a special form of repression and oppression reserved for queers, queer sex has political ramifications that extend far beyond your bedroom. If the world is Footloose, then eating out your girlfriend is like dancing in a barn with Kevin Bacon and Lawrence v. Texas is like forcing John Lithgow to let you have senior prom.

Just reminding people you are queer and having sex is political. I think the most political queers are the ones that don’t assimilate well. The cute lesbian couples in matching Nicole Foster suits and the pin-stripe Hugo Boss wearing gay boys catching the Muni to the Financial District might lack the same civil rights as all of us. I’m not saying society is a safe place if you assimilate. But feminine couples could be mistaken for gal pals. And matching suit-wearing gay boys could be mistaken for business partners. The flat-topped butch with septum ring and a red hanky in her back pocket walking hand-in-hand with her high-heeled femme girlfriend in full rockabilly attire reek of sex. When you look at that couple, you know they are going home to fuck. They’re loud and hot and out for everyone to see. And that kind of in-your-face visibility is about as political as you can get.

Bryn’s third question was about getting busy with someone whose politics you despise. Well, my personal answer is yes and no. Jenna Bush is icky. Condi Rice has that cute gap between her teeth, so maybe. But Ann Coulter? Yes! I would so do her. I think behind those boring conservative politics is a super-pervy sexpot. I’m positive if I bent her over the sink she’d change teams in a hot second.

So my follow-up question goes to Michelle Wolff. As an out actress, how does it feel to be a lesbian sex symbol? We have so few hot dykes on TV to lust after that every time you play a cop, a detective or an EMT in a primetime series, lesbian hearts go pitter pat. Would you want to see more dykes in traditionally masculine roles or do you think it’s reinforcing stereotypes?

[check back next Monday for Michelle's answer]