This post was submitted by Jean

Growing up, I was one of two girls in a neighborhood teeming with boys. Survival was my only goal in this hostile environment of fierce games of pick-up softball, dangerous downhill Hot Wheel racing and a fair amount of name calling and pushing. In my ‘hood, there were only two options for girls: setup a chalkboard in the basement of your house and play school like the girl up the block, or get your hair cut short, obtain the nickname Bob and pick up a baseball bat, like me.

I liked being one of the boys because Girl Scouts and Barbies were boring and my single mom had taught me to build, fix, and be independent. Running around dirty faced with the neighborhood boys was ideal – until high school when my short, blunt-cut hair and faded flannel shirts suddenly made me self-conscious.

It took me a long time to appreciate makeup and skirts, but even longer to find role models. Boys had Michael Jordan, Batman and GI Joe. I had Barbie and Barbie had Ken.  Ken and Barbie had a dream home and in most girls’ daydreams they had a million babies, a mansion and more than one pink corvette. Even then, I knew I didn’t want the dream home, and I didn’t want Ken. I wanted something more, but I didn’t know what.

The pieces started coming together during my freshman year at a Midwestern liberal arts college.  I dumped my high school football player boyfriend, cut all my hair off, pierced my eyebrow and started making out with my roommate. I knew that what I wanted was different from my friends, but I didn’t know what shape my future would take. I was afraid to tell my family and friends about dating girls, and when I finally did, I was dating girls who still hadn’t told their families. Could I be gay at work? Will I have trouble renting a one-bedroom apartment with a girlfriend? Should I put a pride sticker on my car?

As the years passed from that initial phrase of self-discovery, my hair grew long again. I graduated from college and I started to like who I was. In my world, Barbie was best friends with Ken, had kissed Midge and Tori and was dating one of the Bratz dolls. I came out to my coworkers and I put a rainbow sticker on my car. I was living far from the suburbia I grew up in, but I was still sad that I had to figure out all this on my own. I wondered where the role models were for young women – especially those that were gay.

Movies and TV still weren’t embracing gay characters at all – much less gay women. There were a few gay women out there in the media, like Rosie O’Donnell or Melissa Etheridge, but no one that was within reach of young women in search of identity.  In fact, no one particularly “cool.” Sports figures didn’t work for me, and the stereotypical lesbian image hung heavily over the aspirations of every young, hip same-sex dating woman – I couldn’t possibly do more to avoid those crop haired, Wrangler-jeans wearin’ lesbians with their U-Hauls and their veganism. Who was I supposed to look up to?

It’s a little different for me now, as a woman in my 20′s I feel excited about Rachel Maddow, Ellen Degeneres, Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, and Billie Jean King. I see role models in Harvey Milk, Barney Frank and even Neil Patrick Harris and Lance Bass.  The numbers are small, but at least there are some. Who does the LGBTQ 12-18 age group look up too? Where are their role models?

I look forward to one day putting my writing and English background to a different use – to teach. As the teacher of middle or high school age students who will I point out as great gay role models? Members of society who engage young people, who are hip and cool, who can help LGBTQ teenagers feel proud and understood?

Are any of these role models out there now right under my nose?

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