From “Healing in the Dark” – Mab Maher (1956-1974; 291) -
The following Christmas I flew to Ireland. I needed to see the roots of myself more clearly. I rented a car and began a trip to the farthest Western Point, Dingle Peninsula. I felt completely free and at one with myself as I drove along. The roads grew more narrow and cut into rolling hills. Almost imperceptibly I became one with the round, soft hills that curved into each other from every direction. They were the shape of women loving each other. I have never felt such an overwhelming sense of being at home. In that moment all the Earth was saying *yes* to my Lesbian identity. I got out of the car and opened my arms to the Irish hills; I ran up and down them calling them my lovers and my sisters. As the sun began to set I reluctantly left them to find a hostel with a huge feather bed and to sleep until the middle of the following afternoon.
. . .
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (12 of ???): an Irish-American nun (4 of 5).
From “Healing in the Dark” – Mab Maher (1956-1974; 289-290) -
One year before I left the convent I took a leave of absence to do consultation work in the East... Luckily my friend Sarah taught me to look carefully at society’s expectations... During those first few months I learned how much inverted interest there is in the lives of nuns. Sarah taught me to treat questions as projections and to have fun with them.
A few weeks later a man with whom I worked asked me over lunch if there were underground tunnels between rectories and convents for easy access to sex. I said, “Sure.”
“But isn’t that awfully dangerous? You could be found out.”
“Oh yes,” I assured him, “that did happen.”
Two weeks later he called to confide that he had been having an affair with his neighbor’s wife. There was a secret path in the adjoining orchard. But he had been found out!
When a woman asked me if nuns masturbated, I said, “Sure.”
She was shocked but interested. “I suppose it did help a tense situation.”
“Oh, of course.”
A few weeks later at the swimming pool I overheard her say that she and her husband were again having sex. She attributed this marvel to her newly discovered joy in masturbating.
Perhaps all this was not exactly what Ghandi [sic] had in mind when he spoke of experimenting with the truth, but I was learning who I was not and how easy it is to be caught in the web of projection.
. . .
One year before I left the convent I took a leave of absence to do consultation work in the East... Luckily my friend Sarah taught me to look carefully at society’s expectations... During those first few months I learned how much inverted interest there is in the lives of nuns. Sarah taught me to treat questions as projections and to have fun with them.
A few weeks later a man with whom I worked asked me over lunch if there were underground tunnels between rectories and convents for easy access to sex. I said, “Sure.”
“But isn’t that awfully dangerous? You could be found out.”
“Oh yes,” I assured him, “that did happen.”
Two weeks later he called to confide that he had been having an affair with his neighbor’s wife. There was a secret path in the adjoining orchard. But he had been found out!
When a woman asked me if nuns masturbated, I said, “Sure.”
She was shocked but interested. “I suppose it did help a tense situation.”
“Oh, of course.”
A few weeks later at the swimming pool I overheard her say that she and her husband were again having sex. She attributed this marvel to her newly discovered joy in masturbating.
Perhaps all this was not exactly what Ghandi [sic] had in mind when he spoke of experimenting with the truth, but I was learning who I was not and how easy it is to be caught in the web of projection.
. . .
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (11 of ???): an Irish-American nun (3 of 5).
From “Healing in the Dark” – Mab Maher (1956-1974; 288) -
At twenty-eight, in graduate school in Washington, D.C., I had my first experience of triangular love. A handsome young nun from Detroit and I grew very close as we studied in the library, ate together, and took long walks each day. I loved Ann. I had so much energy I could have sold it. Ann was also a close friend of a priest from Ireland whose years of scholarship had left him physically blind. When the three of us went on an outing, I usually drove. One day we went to the ocean in Delaware. After we finished our picnic, I hiked two miles back over the dunes to find the car and drive it back to them. When I returned, they were lying under several blankets. I could see him sucking her breasts through her open habit. Overwhelmed with my own sexual yearning and loss, I fell to the sand and sobbed. I never revealed that I had seen them...
. . .
At twenty-eight, in graduate school in Washington, D.C., I had my first experience of triangular love. A handsome young nun from Detroit and I grew very close as we studied in the library, ate together, and took long walks each day. I loved Ann. I had so much energy I could have sold it. Ann was also a close friend of a priest from Ireland whose years of scholarship had left him physically blind. When the three of us went on an outing, I usually drove. One day we went to the ocean in Delaware. After we finished our picnic, I hiked two miles back over the dunes to find the car and drive it back to them. When I returned, they were lying under several blankets. I could see him sucking her breasts through her open habit. Overwhelmed with my own sexual yearning and loss, I fell to the sand and sobbed. I never revealed that I had seen them...
. . .
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (10 of ???): an Irish-American nun (2 of 5).
From “Healing in the Dark” – Mab Maher (1956-1974; 287) -
In our large mother house there were a dozen or more walk-in lockers in which food was kept in cold storage. One day my friend and I were accidentally locked into the one which stored milk. As the door jammed, I felt my anxiety rise. Everyone would now see that we were particular friends. (Actually, I am not sure that my friend knew she was my particular friend.) I huddled up in the corner with the cream cans. Much more pragmatic, she pounded on the door. After several hours of physical cold and psychic heat, the sister who managed the kitchen found as. As she released the latch, I blurted, “We didn’t do anything.” Laughing, she shook the bag of apples she was carrying at us and said, “Too bad. Too bad.”
. . .
In our large mother house there were a dozen or more walk-in lockers in which food was kept in cold storage. One day my friend and I were accidentally locked into the one which stored milk. As the door jammed, I felt my anxiety rise. Everyone would now see that we were particular friends. (Actually, I am not sure that my friend knew she was my particular friend.) I huddled up in the corner with the cream cans. Much more pragmatic, she pounded on the door. After several hours of physical cold and psychic heat, the sister who managed the kitchen found as. As she released the latch, I blurted, “We didn’t do anything.” Laughing, she shook the bag of apples she was carrying at us and said, “Too bad. Too bad.”
. . .
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (9 of ???): an Irish-American nun (1 of 5).
From “Healing in the Dark” – Mab Maher (1956-1974; 287)
In the novitiate I loved to kneel next to one classmate. Usually we were assigned places in chapel, but not when we knelt through the night before the casket of a dead sister. The intent of this observance was like that of the Tibetan Buddhists: by seeing death clearly, we were to become aware of the passingness of all things. But I never felt so alive as during those nights when I could kneel next to my friend. I felt as if I would live forever.
. . .
In the novitiate I loved to kneel next to one classmate. Usually we were assigned places in chapel, but not when we knelt through the night before the casket of a dead sister. The intent of this observance was like that of the Tibetan Buddhists: by seeing death clearly, we were to become aware of the passingness of all things. But I never felt so alive as during those nights when I could kneel next to my friend. I felt as if I would live forever.
. . .
Monday, October 3, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (8 of ???): Interview excerpt.
From “Alternative Community” – Sister Anne (1956-present; 310) – an interview -
Sister Anne: During the next ten years I went out with several men – mostly people in ministry – though I did have an intense affair with another community member. I was almost forty when I met Laura, a student at the University where I was chaplain. We were madly in love. I used to crawl through her dormitory window to sleep with her, often returning to the convent in the early morning – hoping no one had missed me. Sometimes she would stay over in my room; we’d prop the door closed with a chair since there were no locks. We were wild: making love on the kitchen floor, holding hands under the table during dinner with the community. And we were sworn to secrecy – nobody knew anything. It was intense for two years. Then the isolation and the constant fear of being discovered overwhelmed her.
Nancy: Yes, it’s hard to maintain a relationship under those conditions. So then?
Sister Anne: Then I met Marie. She came to a group Laura and I were forming to explore alternative religious communities. Little did we know...
. . .
Sister Anne: During the next ten years I went out with several men – mostly people in ministry – though I did have an intense affair with another community member. I was almost forty when I met Laura, a student at the University where I was chaplain. We were madly in love. I used to crawl through her dormitory window to sleep with her, often returning to the convent in the early morning – hoping no one had missed me. Sometimes she would stay over in my room; we’d prop the door closed with a chair since there were no locks. We were wild: making love on the kitchen floor, holding hands under the table during dinner with the community. And we were sworn to secrecy – nobody knew anything. It was intense for two years. Then the isolation and the constant fear of being discovered overwhelmed her.
Nancy: Yes, it’s hard to maintain a relationship under those conditions. So then?
Sister Anne: Then I met Marie. She came to a group Laura and I were forming to explore alternative religious communities. Little did we know...
. . .
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Lesbian Nuns (7 of ???): More from the same author...
More from “God Was an Innocent Bystander”, by Jean O’Leary (with Jan Holden) (1966-1971; 237-238):
Carrie and I were seen once walking by the lake, holding hands and kissing under the light by the bridge. The novice mistress called us to her office. She said we shouldn’t walk by the lake because we were breaking the rules. Nothing else. We knew she knew, but she said nothing.
One night the postulant mistress, Sister Martha, caught us. Everyone was in the rec room. Sister Martha was working on a mosaic. She asked me to get more tiles from the laundry. I asked to take Carrie with me. At first, Sister Martha said no. But when I said I’d like company because it was dark there, she consented. Whenever Carrie and I were alone we became very passionate. We always schemed for those moments of privacy. Getting the tiles shouldn’t have taken long, but once we were in the laundry, it was dark and quiet and we were alone, lost in a world of each other. Suddenly the room was thrown into glaring light. Sister Martha stood in the doorway. She just stared at us. our headdresses were off, and there was no question what we were doing.
I was in agony that night. I knew that I was going to be kicked out. I knew tomorrow would be my last day... We went to bed without talking. I didn’t want to leave the convent; I wasn’t ready for the world.
Sister Martha called me into her office the next morning. I could barely look at her. I wanted to be anywhere but in that office, knowing she was going to dismiss me. She said, “The least you could have done was talk to me.” I was stunned. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t going to throw me out. She was jealous! I left the office floating.
The next day Sister Martha asked me to take her to the store. When we returned, I drove the station wagon into the garage, turned off the ignition, put my arm around Sister Martha, and kissed her. It was that simple.
Sister Martha had been in the convent for twenty years. She followed the rules meticulously, and she set the rules for everyone: lights out at ten, no radios, no smoking, walking correctly, no cutting up, maintaining an attitude of dignity. She didn’t encourage familiarity.
After we began having the affair, Martha changed dramatically. She began to express her wonderful sense of humor. A spontaneous, warm, creative person emerged. And, of course, the convent changed, too. We became a family, a community of intimacy and love. Not that we were open or direct about our love, but the atmosphere became completely supportive and nurturing.
. . .
Carrie and I were seen once walking by the lake, holding hands and kissing under the light by the bridge. The novice mistress called us to her office. She said we shouldn’t walk by the lake because we were breaking the rules. Nothing else. We knew she knew, but she said nothing.
One night the postulant mistress, Sister Martha, caught us. Everyone was in the rec room. Sister Martha was working on a mosaic. She asked me to get more tiles from the laundry. I asked to take Carrie with me. At first, Sister Martha said no. But when I said I’d like company because it was dark there, she consented. Whenever Carrie and I were alone we became very passionate. We always schemed for those moments of privacy. Getting the tiles shouldn’t have taken long, but once we were in the laundry, it was dark and quiet and we were alone, lost in a world of each other. Suddenly the room was thrown into glaring light. Sister Martha stood in the doorway. She just stared at us. our headdresses were off, and there was no question what we were doing.
I was in agony that night. I knew that I was going to be kicked out. I knew tomorrow would be my last day... We went to bed without talking. I didn’t want to leave the convent; I wasn’t ready for the world.
Sister Martha called me into her office the next morning. I could barely look at her. I wanted to be anywhere but in that office, knowing she was going to dismiss me. She said, “The least you could have done was talk to me.” I was stunned. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t going to throw me out. She was jealous! I left the office floating.
The next day Sister Martha asked me to take her to the store. When we returned, I drove the station wagon into the garage, turned off the ignition, put my arm around Sister Martha, and kissed her. It was that simple.
Sister Martha had been in the convent for twenty years. She followed the rules meticulously, and she set the rules for everyone: lights out at ten, no radios, no smoking, walking correctly, no cutting up, maintaining an attitude of dignity. She didn’t encourage familiarity.
After we began having the affair, Martha changed dramatically. She began to express her wonderful sense of humor. A spontaneous, warm, creative person emerged. And, of course, the convent changed, too. We became a family, a community of intimacy and love. Not that we were open or direct about our love, but the atmosphere became completely supportive and nurturing.
. . .
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