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The Lesbrary Tumblr
The Basics
I run the Lesbrary, and I'm also on booktube and goodreads.
Check out the Lesbrary Goodreads Project for lists of les/bi/etc books by topic and genre
See the Master List of Lesbian & Bi Women Books Recommendations for my favourites!
Support Bi & Lesbian Lit and the Lesbrary on Patreon for monthly book giveaways, or buy us a coffee on ko-fi if you're feeling generous!
Mostly lesbian lit, always bi-, ace-, aro- and trans-inclusive.
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After the bar closed we’d walk down the streets, pretty tipsy, one of us on each of Jacqueline’s arms. She’d throw her head up to the heavens and say ‘Thank you, God, for these two good-looking butches’. Al and I would lean forward and wink at each other and we’d all laugh for the sheer joy of being who we were, and being it together.
Posted 3 years ago reblog 2056 notes
These pulp paperbacks were crucial to the lesbian culture of the 1950s because they offered proof of lesbian existence. Any story that depicted a lesbian world, no matter how deeply submerged in the shadows, was valuable to a woman who otherwise felt herself to be alone. Moreover, the recurrent theme of suffering and sacrifice, as in The Well of Loneliness, invested a character with nobility, allowing the reader to feel, if not happy, at least purged and uplifted. The pulp novels also provided some women with welcome representations of lesbian sexuality and relationships. These women may have read against the grain, finding in the excesses and distortions of the text an ironic and amusing affirmation of their membership in a hidden and special subculture.
- Bonnie Zimmerman, from The Safe Sea of Women: Lesbian Fiction 1969-1989 (via warpeddesires)
Posted 3 years ago reblog 116 notes
aroaessidhe: “For a long time, when I was a little younger, I thought that was how every girl saw other girls—this mix between beauty and awe and curiosity, a thin layer of lust just underneath. Took until I was fourteen to realize that no, the way I thought about other girls was a little different.”
— Ashley Herring Blake, How to Make a Wish
Posted 3 years ago reblog 911 notes
I used be mad at my mom for squeezing me into everything, but I grew out of it. I know now that she was just worried about me. I wish that she had named what I saw in her eyes when she looked at me back then, I wish that she had called it fear. Because all those years I mistook that fear for shame, and that mistake has cost us both so much.
Posted 3 years ago reblog 502 notes
Surround yourself with other beautiful brown and black and indigenous and morena and Chicana, native, Indian, mixed race, Asian, gringa, boriqua babes.
Let them uplift you.
Rage against the motherfucking machine.
Question everything anyone ever says to you or forces down your throat or makes you write a hundred times on the blackboard.
Question every man that opens his mouth and spews out a law over your body and spirit.
Question every single thing until you find the answer in a daydream.
Don’t question yourself unless you hurt someone else.
When you hurt someone else, sit down, and think, and think, and think, and then make it right.
Apologize when you fuck up.
Live forever.
Consult the ancestors while counting stars in the galaxy.
Hold wisdom under tongue until it’s absorbed into the bloodstream.
Do not be afraid.
Do not doubt yourself.
Do not hide
Be proud of your inhaler, your cane, your back brace, your acne.
Be proud of the things that the world uses to make you feel different.
Posted 3 years ago reblog 97 notes
I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.
Posted 3 years ago reblog 5093 notes
russiacore: Leslie Feinberg said it, the moon is high femme
[image description: the text from Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg: “Peaches drew herself up to her full height. “Where do you see a damn man? The moon is femme, child—high-in-the-sky femme—and don’t you forget it.”]
Posted 3 years ago reblog 6703 notes
I was a baby butch who had never heard the word and so didn’t know what to call myself until I first heard that word out loud in 1992 in the back stacks of Little Sister’s bookstore. I wore second-hand army boots three sizes too big and cut my own hair with clippers and met what I didn’t know at the time was my first femme lover and bought my first necktie and she called me handsome and that one word handsome made up for two decades of knowing I was never really
all that pretty.
Posted 3 years ago reblog 8914 notes
ghostqueenofthesun: But I guess it’s where we live most of the time. I guess it’s where we all live, so maybe it doesn’t have to be so lonely. Maybe I can settle into it, cozy up to it, make a home inside uncertainty. We Are Okay by Nina LaCour
Posted 3 years ago reblog 44 notes
wordcounting: Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour
[image description: an excerpt from Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour in a looping font. “We love films because they make us feel something. They speak to our desires, which are never small. They allow us to escape and to dream and to gaze into eyes that are impossibly beautiful and huge. They fill us with longing. / But also. / They tell us remember; they remind us of life. Remember, they say, how much it hurts to have your heart broken. Remember about death and suffering and the complexities of living. Remember what it is like to love someone. Remember how it is to be loved. Remember what you feel in this moment. Remember this. Remember this.”]
Posted 3 years ago reblog 76 notes
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5 Star Reads
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid
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