Lesbian tourism has long been a thing — women who once kissed a girl trying to appear more interesting while living a heterosexual life. Anne Heche, Madonna, Britney Spears and Ariana Grande have used lesbian/bisexual hints to titillate fans and sell more records.
But nothing riles me like the Miley Cyrus approach which is to be heterosexual, married to a man, but claiming to be ‘queer’ and edgy. In a recent interview about her marriage to Liam Hemsworth, she said: ‘We’re redefining, to be fucking frank, what it looks like for someone that’s a queer person like myself to be in a hetero relationship.’
What a load of pretentious baloney. Cyrus is as heterosexual as the next woman. Labelling herself ‘queer’ is as convincing as me deciding my dog is a goldfish. While I get the envy that many women feel towards those of us that shop around the corner, it is a bit low to want the attention for being ‘special’ while being boringly straight.
My mate Julie Burchill has the right attitude. Although she once indulged in a well-publicised affair with a woman, she told me that definitely did not make her gay. ‘It’s like going to Iceland,’ she said. ‘Once you’ve been, why on earth would you want to go again?’
I am not a big fan of identity politics, but I do think we should pay respect to those who pave the way for others to live their lives free from bigotry and discrimination. In coming out as a lesbian when I did in 1977, I faced hardship, violence and prejudice. It was no fun growing up a lezzer in a working-class housing estate in the north-east of England, where the expectation was to marry a local lad and have a brace of kids.
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