KISS THE GIRLS

[January 21st, 2004] As I walked down the street today, every woman looked like a lesbian to me. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that I spent four hours last night watching The L Word.

This new series, dedicated to a gorgeous-looking group of Los Angeles lesbos, premiered last Sunday night on Showtime, the same network that gave us the gay-centric Queer As Folk.

In just three words, here's my critique of the show: I loved it. And because I was able to secure a preview DVD that included upcoming episodes, I found my crush on this cable show blooming into full-blown lust.

This might sound funny coming from a gay guy but, after watching The L Word, I actually find myself in love with lesbianism--or, at the very least, the televised version of it. I know: I'm going overboard here. But my god it's refreshing to finally see a queer show that focuses on something other than dick.

I don't like to say it out loud, but I believe women are a tad better than men are. What I didn't realize is that, if left to their own devices, women would make a better television show. Now, with The L Word, which offers just one male lead (trim-cut Tim), it looks like they have.

The primary plot line of the first episodes revolves around arty museum curator Bette (former Flashdancer Jennifer Beals, who in some ways echoes Portland's own Kristy Edmunds, director of the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art) and her haphazard attempts at helping her girlfriend, Tina (Laurel Holloman), get pregnant. This storyline is semi-silly/serious, but it works. Along for the carriage ride are several complex (if somewhat cardboard) characters who are easy to love or hate--some at the same time.

Now I can see why the show might offend some lesbians, including Just Out columnist Lisa Bradshaw, who said the show featured "grossly exaggerated lesbianspeak...and the trivializing of serious queer issues." But come on, what television show doesn't end up stuffing people into cookie-cutter roles so a story resonates with an audience?

Where this show succeeds is in its effort to develop its character through living, breathing women, warts and all. Even though the actresses are incredibly attractive, the women they portray aren't just slabs of meat. Screwing, talking and crying are all allowed equal billing, and it's not just "lesbianspeak." These girls get down and dirty, just like everybody else.

But what we don't have to watch are women suffering the oppression of a male-dominated culture. In fact, except for their much-coveted sperm, men don't really factor into the story. In this community, whatever oppression is encountered comes from within, whether it's due to "self-righteous priggishness," as one character explains, or, as her friend spits back, "self-loathing homophobia." And these opinions don't seem that far from truth, at least not from the truth expressed by my lesbian friends.

Alice--who is played by Leisha Hailey, the one honest-to-goodness dyke--is the one character whose actions don't ring true. She spends her time working on a map that shows how every lesbian is connected to every other lesbian--by who slept with whom.

OK, do real-life dykes really remember every person they ever slept with? Most gay guys sure don't. If that piece of TV trivia is true, then I guess every woman I did see today was probably girl-crazy. Just like all the fans--straight and gay--who will soon be hooked on this show.