Behind the Borderline

I am very happy to see that my fable, "The Houso on the Border land," has aroused so much awareness of one of the most painful problems in the homosexual world, the spocial plight of the married Lesbian. Jan Fraser has told the other side of the story, and I am also glad to seo that there are those who do not consider us pure freaks, outlaws, or thrill-seekers (thrill-so okers, dear God! What we find is far from thrilling, believe me me.).

I have ceased to ask myself why I am a Lesbian, but during the last few years I have tried unceasingly to understand why I am a married ono. Those who understand mo frequently ask, "Why did you marry?" How does a woman find herself in such an unholy predicament? For what it's worth, I think my case is almost painfully typical.

At the age of sixteen I was well aware that I had homosexual tendencio s more than this, having had no experience, I was not willing to admit it. I was (there can bo no hara in saying it) an intelligent and analytical girl; I could hardly fail to be aware that I was uninterested in boys and that my passionate imagination dwelt not on Frank Sinatra or Clark Gable, but on Rosa Ponsello and Antoinette Concello. The depth of my emoti on over a pretty redhead girl in one of my classes startled and shocked mo; however, for my geographical location and my age, I had had what was regarded as an excellent sex instruction; that is, I had been given adequate instruction for my age limits and I was at least aware of the major deviations from the average norms. Being, as I say, of an analytical turn of mind, I tended to regard my homosexual tendencies as duo mainly to a classically traumatic experience, rape, in my early teens, at the hands of a trusted male relative. told myself that I had simply been scared witless.

In college I rationalized my avoidance of boys my own ago by telling myself I was there to get an education, not to catch myself a husband. About that time I fell into the hands of a woman considerably older than I,

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