http://www.oregonlive.com/commentary/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/editorial/1070888266191170.xmlA word to my mothers
12/08/03
by Melissa Hart
Lesbian. Three loaded syllables, if you attended my high school in the mid-'80s. Students shot the word carelessly as a curse, and with as much malice. I cringed every time I heard it.
"That teacher looks like a lesbian."
"You're such a lesbian."
Twenty years later, the word still sounds to me like an insult. If I absolutely must, I choke it out when I'm at home for the holidays, blushing furiously in front of my two mothers and wishing I'd simply said gay.
Gay is a much happier word. It brings to mind Victorian sleigh rides, rosy-cheeked girls, bouquets of cheerful daisies. "Keep It Gay" is my husband's favorite song from the Mel Brooks musical "The Producers." On road trips, we belt out the lyrics in sonorous vibratos -- windows rolled down so fellow drivers can enjoy our exuberant performance. The word gay is pleasing to the ear. It trips along the tongue, the stuff of poetry.