The decision to write my black lesbian story within the context of being the daughter of a black lesbian is one which required a great deal of thought. Primarily because bearing one's private/family experiences and thoughts could make even the most courageous of us buckle at the thought. Secondly, my life story does not only include my life's details since they are intricately woven into my mother's life story. My disclosures ultimately become hers as well, (a fame for which I'm not convinced either of us is quite ready). However in the interest of my own growth, and the growth of my relationship with my mother and the benefits that might be gained by even one or two other "sisters in the life", I will attempt to share some of my experience.

My earliest memory of my mother and her two very good dyke girl friends involved my mother, a young 19 year old introducing me to one of her new friends. This friend, shortly after was joined by another and these two women along with my mother became an integral part of my developmental process. My mother could best be described at that time as a novice, innocent yet intrigued young budding black lesbian. I remember her being very attractive, thin in body size, having a short Afro and a huge bright smile. She was I now know saddled with the responsibility (like most teen-mothers) of trying to juggle her own issues of adolescence along with that of being a parent and embracing her life as a lesbian. My mother's two best friends "L" and "J" were colorful and had unique personalities as well. "L" was the quintessential "femme" sister. The first thought that comes to mind now is Diana Ross. "L" had big hair, as did most women in the sixties. She wore frosted lipstick, mini-dresses and matching shoes. She talked about traveling around the country and some day becoming famous by using her seamstress skills. She cooked, cleaned, and made herself the self-appointed "mother hen" of the group. "J" on the other hand, was larger in size, had a short Afro, and had the ability to smile, grimace and raise one eyebrow above her shaded glasses all at the same time.

If there was an injustice to be righted, a white person to be "snapped on" or realism to be brought to a situation, she was the individual to do it. These women I call my lesbian mothers, raised, influenced and shaped my life as I know it today. My first day of kindergarten was ushered in with my mother, "L", and "J". I had such a great time listening to the Supremes and my mothers gossip about people, that I never wanted to be out of their presence. In fact I recall being marched to school on the first day with them on either side of me with a quarter pressed to the center of my hand. The agreement was that I would have a productive day in exchange for the money. Unfortunately, by the end of the day the quarter was still pressed to the center of my hand with dirt surrounding the outer edges. All the best efforts of the teacher could not get me to separate from the bond of my family, which the quarter represented to me. This bond would be one that would exist throughout the rest of my childhood years.

As I grew older my mother become involved in her relationships. There were times that I spent more time with "L" and "J" rather than mom and because of the freedom they allowed with my growth and expression, some of my mothers earlier relationships were difficult because of me. I was not clear about the exact nature of these relationships, but I knew my mother talked and cared a great deal about these women. Sometimes that love did not always include room for me and the person she was dating, but even in her short periods of absence "L" and "J" nurtured and disciplined me. My mother began to explore and party, "L" gave me my first perm. My mother began to weave herself into more intricate relationships and "J" began to give me the harsh realities of people and their behavior. As a child of 7/8 there were occasions when my mother attempted to combine a delicate blend of "lesbian love" and  "smart lipped" precocious child, usually with little success.

The summer of my 8th birthday, I found myself on the road to Los Angeles, California in a car the size of a Volkswagen with four doors. "L" and "J", "J"'s teenage daughter and a french poodle named "Fatsy". I am sure that "L" and "J" were in search of a greater lesbian community. I on the other hand was in search of the Bradys and Partridges. Even as a child I could appreciate the mountains and panoramic views we experienced as we traveled to California from Chicago. A summer turned into a year in California for me. I went to school, met new people and was raised by 2 lesbians as a family. "J" worked in a hospital and "L" sewed and took odd jobs when and where she could. "L" made all my school clothes, kept house and made wonderful meals. It was here that I began to realize that my mothers were different than other families I knew. There were never any men involved in our day to day lives and it became apparent to me that there was something different about "L" and "J" not only sharing the same bedroom, but the same bed as well. I watched them take on enormous tasks, suffer setbacks and always during crisis situations, pull together as a group and make decisions based on the best interests of everyone. It was an exciting year, but my mother and I began to miss each other a great deal and by my 9th year my mother had come to California to bring me back to Chicago.

This began my revelations about who my mother was. At 12 years of age my mother announced that we would be moving from my extended family's apartment into that of her new lover's apartment. This new relationship coupled with my normal adolescent issues around identify and sexuality, marked the beginning of a very difficult period for both my mother and I. During this period I began to develop feelings of anger towards my mother and her new partner. They spent most of their free time together either going to parties or having them. At times they were demonstrative towards each other, which sometimes I found difficult to observe - especially as I was struggling to develop my own identity. The openness and comfort that I had previously felt about my mother as well as "L" and "J" began to move towards discomfort rather than unconditional acceptance. As most adolescents, I began to experience attractions to other teens. Initially the attraction was with boys and later girls became a factor. However at 14 years old, I decided that I wanted to be in the space of other girls. And my lesbian mother, fully understanding, sacrificed and enrolled me in a Catholic girls high school. Here I began what would be a long period of self-acknowledgement and coming out. I began to experience infatuations with other girls and even women, which I never discussed with my mother. We experienced what I consider normal (if it can be called that) teen-parent difficulties in communicating. Oftentimes however I did find it easier to discuss my feelings with "L" or "J" who had returned from California by this time. I attempted to develop my own sexuality and identify, while my mother and I resided with her lover. Our relationship was almost like friends. As I grew and matured I watched my mother grow as well. Her relationship grew more chaotic and dysfunctional, but still we continued to live with her partner for almost 5 years.

By the time I was 15 years old, my mother told me that we would be doing something that we had never done - live on our own. This was wonderful, however I only had a couple of years left before I was to leave for college. "L" and "J" spent an enormous amount of time at our new place, and my mother being the genuine-hearted person that she is, would open our home occasionally to other young lesbians that had been thrown out of their parents' homes. In essence there was always someone coming or going, friends and family members, but this was part of the charm of my life and the community in which I had been raised. As I continued on my search to determine if I was truly lesbian or merely "lesbian friendly", "L" and "J" would jokingly provide me with the "ins and outs" of "Butch" and "Femme" roles.  I was never pressured to do or be any one thing, except the best person that I could be. I was always given sound advice, and I am sure that "L" always kept my mother informed. My mother never crossed the boundaries of my relationship with them and they in turn.  I'm sure at times she felt relieved that her good friends were there to act as buffers. All three women were present throughout most of my life milestones. "J" taught me how to drive. She exclaimed firmly as she got into my mother's car, "don't hit anybody or anybody's car, let's move." "L" made my prom dress - and was still sewing 2-3 hours before the event. My mother provided love and nurturance in many ways across the board. She attempted to provide me all the benefits that her income could afford and some of what "J"'s and "L"''s would accommodate. They were all present for elementary, high school, and undergraduate graduations. They all packed my personal belongings and caravanned me to Ohio for my first semester at Wilberforce University. They were all supportive throughout my 4 years away. They provided everything from long-distance listening ears to care packages and occasional visits to Ohio for family weekends. Although my relationship with "L" and "J" has changed over the past 10 years, they are still and will always be my special lesbian mothers.

My mother and I have become exceptionally close. We have survived my graduate school experience, her re-integration back into school to complete her degree, where she has become this incredibly vibrant, emotionally and physically healthy person. We have been able to develop a greater closeness and appreciation for the uniqueness of our relationship and occasionally attend social gatherings together (the truth is she gets out more than me). We have become each other's biggest fans and are truly best friends. I began to realize what it means to be a black woman in this country and especially a lesbian. It has become clear to me that people do the best they can with the resources and family experiences they have been given. We must always rally to the support of each other and mirror to another sister the beauty, richness and royal lineage from which we all descend. In short this is my story, but I am sure that there are many others that need to be told.