On 'Lesbians' (1986)

Pam Walton's short documentary is a snapshot of lesbian life

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As far as I can tell, this is Dianne Rhudy (left), Diane Porath (center), and Marilyn Watkins (right).

People often speak of a disconnect between younger and older queer folks, or a loss of history in some sense. However, plenty of writing and other forms of media can help bridge this gap, providing 21st-century queers with an accessible historical archive. On social media, younger folks tend to delight in hearing stories from older lesbians on their feeds. The YouTube series “Old Lesbians” gets a lot of attention online, and queer TikTokers love watching older lesbians make content and tell their love stories.

Footage from the past can be even more enlightening. In 1986, documentarian Pam Walton released a short film simply titled Lesbians. The video captures three lesbians – Diane Porath, Dianne Rhudy, and Marilyn Watkins – discussing their lives and opinions. Or, as the cheeky synopsis reads, “Three politically incorrect lesbians talk about being lesbian.”

Without any knowledge of Walton’s work, it would be easy to assume this is some sort of confrontational TV special. The interviewer (presumably Walton herself) asks the participants purposefully rude and offensive questions like “Don’t you need a man in your life?” and “Have you ever thought about getting help?” Part of what gives the gag away is how unpreturbed the women are by these questions, refuting wrongheaded assumptions calmly and with a sense of humor.

The documentary’s opening and closing sequences also signal its playful intentions. At the beginning, we get several shots of badass lesbians who look like they hang out at biker bars while a theatrical electric guitar solo plays. The guitar cuts out, and Marylin, wearing sunglasses and sporting perfectly coiffed hair, slowly and somewhat erotically says the film’s one-word title. The ending is just the same, but with the music and dialogue reversed.

Lesbians is a delightful watch, both because of its humor and how secure the women appear in their identities. Dianne discusses how annoying it is that everyone thinks lesbians are all the same, while (the other) Diane, when asked if she plays the butch role, responds “No, I just play Diane.” Later, she jokes that lesbians don’t need men to have children “as long as there’s a turkey baster around.”

Still, despite its lighthearted tone, the film contains a clear message. While illustrating how funny, smart, and self-assured they are, the lesbians also make a point to share their normalcy. They want love, companionship, and a family like everyone else does, and they live quiet lives in the suburbs like millions of other Americans. (In fact, several years later, Walton made a longer documentary called Out In Suburbia, which also features Diane as one of its subjects.)

The documentary comes off as educational in some ways, but the conversation feels casual, and thus accessible to those within the community and outside of it. Because they’re not featured guests on the news or an inflammatory TV talk show, the lesbians can express their point of view without being on the defensive.

As contemporary viewers, we can glean a lot from the film. Unsurprisingly, many commenters on YouTube and TikTok noted how hot Diane is and how much they’re thirsting after her. (She is no doubt the most charming and magnetic of the three.) Other viewers commented on how grateful they are that women like this paved the way for them, and how much wisdom the lesbians shared in this short video.

The project of normalizing queer folks might not seem as radical today, as many queer activists have turned away from the project of assimilation. But, considering the time period, videos like this were radical. Lesbians had few legal rights in this era, and the majority of society was not accepting (or at least not understanding) of them. The content of Walton’s documentary is more than just an ideological exercise, it also reflects a desire to see lesbians live openly, obtain legal protections, and not be harassed by bigots.

The cast of characters featured in the documentary clarifies not just that lesbians are normal, but that they are individuals. At the beginning of the video, Dianne argues that every lesbian is unique, and the image most people have of lesbians doesn’t encompass the full range of the community. And when Diane claims that she “just play[s] Diane,” she’s refuting the assumption that lesbians can fit into easy boxes. They insist that they’re distinct individuals happily living in the normal world.

The documentary’s tone signifies another element of the lesbian image. Lesbians, especially during the ‘70s and ‘80s, were seen as severe, militant, and lacking a sense of humor. (Remember when Betty Friedan referred to them as the “lavender menace”?) The lesbians in Walton’s film are charming and funny, and even though they’re making some political arguments, it still feels like a few lesbian friends hanging out and engaging in a spirited discussion. Indeed, perhaps one of the film’s greatest successes is how much it makes you want to hang out with these lesbians.

This kind of archival footage is important, but also heartening and entertaining. This is true of many lesbian documentaries from this era. I’m thinking, for example, of the incredible anecdote in Choosing Children: Launching the Lesbian Baby Boom, in which a lesbian couple reveals that marinated artichoke jars are the best receptacle to store sperm deposits. If films like these were more widely seen, maybe people would have less of a negative association with, or at least a modicum of respect for, the word lesbian and its many embodiments across history.

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