Blackboxing

Blackboxing: The lesbian equivalent of blackballing.
(because lesbians don't deal with balls, they deal with boxes...get it?)

Historically, blackballing refers to a voting process concerning the exclusion of prospective members to a secretive gentleman's club. Under the cover of darkness, if an existing member of the secretive club placed a white ball in the "ballot box" it meant that they voted in favor of a prospective applicant joining and if they placed a black ball in the "ballot box" it meant that they voted against the applicant; thus grew the term blackballing, which means "to vote against". Blackballing was also used to vote out established members who had been accused of rule violations or other conduct considered detrimental to the integrity of the organization. In the modern colloquial use of the word, it refers to the intentional and deliberative action of excluding or rejecting someone. (The term is most often used in reference to the workplace.)

Let's face it. The lesbians...not the community most known for a welcoming immigration policy and, therefore, we should not be exempt from adding my made-up term to our canon of vocabulary. If we change the words "cover of darkness" to "cover of drunkenness" and change "ballot box" to "acute text message", the lezzies totally have blackboxing in the bag...or box...or...sorry. Every fresh piece of lesbian literature/media/entertainment is analyzed TO DEATH and every celesbian is put through a ringer that resembles more of a hard limits checklist than a welcoming introduction package. And more than the admission into the lesbian community, is the actuality that everyone is scrutinizing and discussing your every move, all the time.

Do you think that lesbians are so hard on one another because we, subconsciously, feel like we have to make up for the fact that we can't get an actual hard-on? ... I was just kidding when I translated that thought onto my keyboard, but I wonder if we, as a community, really do feel inadequate? As if we have something to prove because we don't have something dangling between our legs? I, personally, choose to think that it's because we put a lot of hard work into accepting/embracing/loving our sexuality, and it's a really intimate and vulnerable part of who we are as human beings, and we don't want someone exploiting that or taking advantage of it. As real and honest as that might be, it does, in turn, sometimes (I'm a glass half-full kind of girl), translate into the image of a cold-hearted bitch with a penis complex.

Well... I will admit that I have been a little blackboxed in the Portland lesbian community lately, and it's not what you're thinking; I didn't sleep with my ex-girlfriends ex-girlfriend or fuck a group of incestuous lesbian friends...I got blackboxed because I'm a happy lesbian. I have found that lesbians find my happiness not only unattractive and unappealing, they find it kind of offensive, as if I'm not taking my lesbianism seriously enough. I guess when you spend your days social-working and eating lentils and tofu and you spend your nights tied to tree (and not in the fun way), there isn't much time to value happiness. I'm joking, but at the same time, finding a happy lesbian is like finding a kid that likes eating mushy vegetables, you have to really look for them. I am somebody that likes getting up in the morning, I am somebody that likes the goofy moments when no one's trying to save the world, I like my life, I like who I am, and I like being happy, and I'm not going to apologize for it. If that means that I get a little blackboxed, then that is okay; and going home to yourself, for a while, isn't so bad if you like who you're going home to.

Sidenote: I'm an old-soul, so I attract older women and older women attract me; maybe this is more problematic than I give it credit, maybe I just need a younger pussy. Or maybe I need to move.

P.S. In honor of this here February, the month of love, I've changed up the colors in order to boost my Valentine's Day karma.