In the Margin: Finding the Value of Lesbian Home Libraries

Every dyke's home is an archive.

Last weekend, my friend Sara and I took a day trip to Long Beach to check out some feminist books. Filmmaker, artist, and activist Jennifer Abod was looking to sell some from her collection, and we were excited to ogle her goods.

On the drive down from L.A., Sara hoped aloud that we’d find a copy of Lesbian Land, a highly sought-after 1985 collection of essays, illustrations, and photographs from women’s communes. I relayed a request from my friend Chris that I look for old issues of Country Woman on her behalf, but I myself had no specific desires — only high expectations. I first became familiar with Jennifer almost 20 years ago when I read about the Chicago and New Haven’s Women’s Liberation Rock Bands in Bust magazine. Both Jennifer and her sister had been in the early feminist rock groups and participated in greater second-wave lesbian feminism. In addition, Jennifer has also made documentaries about Audre Lorde, Kitty Tsui, and her late partner, Angela Bowen (all available for streaming on Kanopy).

At Jennifer’s, the books were both hers and Angela’s together, displayed in wall-length, ceiling-height bookcases with others outside in storage. Not only were there some incredible feminist and lesbian tomes, but historic Black novels, autobiographies, and anthologies, too. Their combined collection offered ideas of who they were as individuals and as a committed couple for 39 years. (So cool!)

Several books had Angela’s handwriting and sticky notes throughout their worn pages, particularly ones she used for teaching at Cal State Long Beach. Jennifer pointed to those markings as the real significance of what we held in our hands. Despite their low potential for resale, I had to agree and put some of those into my own pile for purchase. A used second edition of The Bridge Called My Back might only go for ten bucks on the internet, but Angela’s scrawls in the margins (“What does she mean?”) felt priceless.

Angela had a 1961 paperback copy of Nightwood that didn’t have her own name stamped inside. Instead, it was said to belong to “BEVERLY LYNCH,” an early contributor to The Ladder who still writes lesbian fiction today as Lee Lynch. A fun addition to lesbian libraries: books acquired from other lesbians, gifted or borrowed, forgotten to be returned. When I see traces of this, I immediately begin to try and piece women together through the shared texts they consumed, imagining their relationships with themselves and each other. What did they know that I still don’t? It’s gotta be in there — maybe in the margins.