January 22, 1993

GAY PEOPLE'S CHRONICLE

Page 11

Commentary

Are 'we'

'we' everywhere?

by Brynna Fish

Have you ever been at the Variety Show and wondered where in the world did all these women come from? What do they do all year long? Why don't I see them anywhere else? At Betty--or at Girls in the Nose or at Diane Davidson or at the Pride Rally or at Lea Delaria or at...

And then I started to see them. I would see them at strange places. I saw three in a shoe store. I'm sure they were. I saw one at the Red Cross. I saw a few at Stouffer's.

Some don't like to admit it. I know. Some come out only when they can blend in.

I saw a slew at Melissa Etheridge at the Nautica Stage this past summer. I went, actually, with a mission. It's not that I don't like Melissa. She's okay. But I went really to see who was there to see. And if Michael Belkin (Belkin Productions) knows something we don't know. I went early so I could see as many as I could possibly see. And I asked Michael Belkin how many he thought were there. More than k.d.? Less? More than Indigo Girls? He wasn't sure. Anyhow, we did agree--lots.

My girlfriend and I were surveying. And, actually, we were having somewhat of a hard time. There were the definites-(those whom are us--no need to ask). Then, there were the recognizables (those whom we know personally or by familiar faces). Then there were the not sures. These are those of us who are us and those of us who look like those of us who aren't us but who dress like us. The latter are sometimes referred to as "look-alike dykes." But don't tell them.

Anyhow, there was one particular group of folks standing around talking to oh, about six people. I said that the women were definites. She said they were lookalike dykes. So, I was feeling comfortable, maybe a little touch of Michigan still in me--you know how when you leave Michigan you still walk out of public restrooms pulling up your pants--so I walked up and asked. Seemed logical to me. I was curious. It's 1992. If they weren't, maybe they'd be honored to look it!

Well, I did have to repeat my question twice. They were in shock. Then they said no. I thought they were kidding--so I would lose my bet to my girlfriend. I was crushed. Not so much that I was wrong but that they really did look it. Denial can run very deep. Sometime later. (I will come back to Melissa--I promise). Ata popular woman's bar one night I was in line for the restroom, and there she was! One of the deniers! At the moment of recognition I spontaneously approached her expecting a warm welcome. Wrong again. I got an earful about how insensitive I was to pose the question about the L word in front of their straight companions--to whom, of course, they were not out. Oops, I said. Sorry. And, I really was sorry to have caused what I gathered was an awkward moment. But, who's kidding who?

But, here's a case where two wrongs made a right. And, I suspect there were a lot of these at Melissa. Those who look like look-alike dykes and really are us!

Melissa? She was there all right. The crowd loved her, sang along with her. A lot more men for Melissa than for k.d. Do you think they know? Would they still memorize all her lyrics if they did?

We.--I'm sure it was us and maybe a few of not us too--were on our feet for a standing ovation at the end of her first song. Why wait till the end of a show? She came on stage, started singing, and like k.d., she connected with the audience, with her audience, very quickly. She gave the audience a good hard look and went right into "Close your eyes..." and, well, we were

on our feet again. Just can't keep good women down.

Everyone did a lot of jamming that night. Melissa showed off her guitar skills over and over. On one song, with a 12string Ovation hooked up to a wireless pick up, she moved! She moved up and down the tiered platform stage set grooving with her back-up guitarist, then the bass player. Too bad she couldn't get close to the keyboard artist. I wondered about her all night.

Her concert was an enjoyable blend of her more familiar first release tunes and almost all the tunes on her summer release "Never Enough." It's worth picking up if you haven't. On the front is a photo of a rear end view of Melissa against a totally white background. It's a stark black and white shot with Melissa resting her electric guitar against her hind end. She's wearing jeans, boots, long hair, and well, nothing else. I imagine the studio conversations about the recording art being very funny. Her MALE audience would be seduced. Maybe that's why they made the back cover red hued photo on the CD make her look more like Olivia Newton-John than Melissa.

"Thank you Cleveland," she said strongly at the end of the show, the light went off and that was that.

Well, not exactly. For, now the second part of the journey for me would begin. Part II of my mission. The deeper insight into who is who here and are they us?

I didn't have a back stage pass but I was determined. So were dozens of others of us. Some of the other us's had official backstage passes. Others had stories. The security came pretty quickly to hustle away those of us without credentials.

A manager type came and said those with passes would be let in soon. Then he saw me and said, "Her too." Whew.

I had tracked down the road manager before the show. I gave him my card. On the back I wrote a short note to Melissa reminding her that she'd met me back when, and I was glad to see her here.

It seemed like we waited forever. The others of us and me and my girlfriend were finally let through the backstage gate.

Melissa walked out of her trailer, walked right up to me and we had an ever so brief conversation. She remembered me. Now, that's a real person, I thought. I asked her how she likes her audience. I wanted to ask more but there were others of us waiting their turn.

On the way home, I languished in Melissa's success. Good for her, I thought. And good for us. But soon I was wondering what would bring us out again. When would I see them again?

It's one of those philosophic spiritual quests. It's obsessive. I need to know when. I need to know why--what brings us out? What do we do with the rest of our lives? Sit at home and watch Amanda Donahoe? Or Cagney and Lacey reruns?

Then, hark--an announcement that Shawn Colvin would be playing at Peabody's DownUnder. She'd just released Fat City and Cleveland would be her first stop on a long tour. Tickets sold out quickly. I was there but, test or truth, I don't know if we'll ever know about her because enough of us weren't there to be her test market. Maybe more of us will come out next time, though. She did get her start, you know, in Lesbianville, USA, a.k.a. Northampton, Mass.

Well, winter is wearing on and I'm still wondering where are we? Where do we go? Are we all counting the days till we come out again in February?

Watch for the report from the third row center of the Ferron and Indigo Girls concert and the teen boy from Delaware, Ohio with the paper camera.

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