My friend, Paula and I giggled like school girls as we huddled over little plates of dim sum goodies. We were celebrating another of my forty plus birthdays in a large, sunny, crowded restaurant in Oakland's Chinatown. Women in white uniforms pushed metal carts topped with steaming morsels through the narrow aisles.
During our conversation thus far, Paula had casually thrown in an unfamiliar expression, "girl kissing." I'd always prided myself on being the hipper of the two of us. Now, I felt a little awkward, because after nearly three decades, our friendship had suddenly taken a surprising turn. Paula appeared to be the one on the cutting edge; despite her grey, suburban hair cut, while I seemed out of the loop, contrary to my burgundy tinted hair. I cringed at the thought that I was no longer "way past cool," now that I was intimately acquainted with hot flashes and night sweats. Couldn't I be both menopausal and "up on the down stroke?"
"So, tell me about this girl kissing." I asked casually.
"OK. I heard about it from my daughter." Paula confided as a waitress parked her cart alongside our table and I searched for something green.
"They're 'girl kissin' at Berkeley High?" I whispered.
"I don't know how widespread it is. And, I don't know if they're actually doing it in the school." Paula smiled politely at the waitress served us little bowls of spinach.
"So, is it just girls kissing each other?" I asked, as the cart rolled away.
"Yeah and they call it girl kissing."
"Has Hannah done it?"
Paula shook her head.
"Of course, she probably wouldn't tell you."
"I really don't think Hannah's into it."
I sipped my tea. "Does Hannah, have a boyfriend...yet?"
"She was just telling me that some girls are doing it, not her."
"So, she doesn't have a boyfriend. Well, at least you don't have to worry about her getting pregnant or catching something like some mothers of sixteen year-olds have to.."
"Hannah's just focused on her studies and theater. And, that's just fine with me." Paula insisted between tight lips. "She got a part in The Vagina Monologues ."
"The Vagina Monologues. Berkeley High is really progressive. Feminism is alive and well there."
"I don't think that girl kissing is connected to feminism." Paula continued. "I suspect that some of them are just doing it to impress their boyfriends or because they think it's cool or tight or rad or whatever the hell they say these days."
Paula sipped her tea. "Regardless, it's not like Hannah couldn't confide in me." She continued. "I girl kissed and more before I got married."
"Yeah, but Hannah doesn't really know about your checkered past."
"No, but she knows that I was a feminist and that I accept Auntie Liz and Auntie Kate's relationship." Paula pointed out. "My kids have always had friends or classmates with two moms or gay dads. Come on, they've lived their whole lives in Berkeley."
"I hear you." I nodded. "There's really nothing new under the sun." I sipped my tea. "I kissed a blonde, hippie chick a few times back when I was in college. But we didn't call it girl kissing." I sighed. "I didn't call it anything, ‘cept nobody's business and a really nice weed connection."
Paula and I exchanged smiles. The hippie chick's name was Mariah. She came to my door, drawn to the sounds of Marvin Gaye coming from inside my dorm room. Mariah introduced herself and offered me a joint. And, we became buds.
One time after we smoked a joint, Mariah leaned over and started kissing me. I didn't fight off her soft lips or her pot flavored tongue. I just went with the flow. Mariah and I weren't in love. We were just two cute, 70's chicks who got down, but not all the way down.
I remembered sitting at the "black table" in my dorm's dining room with the sistas and brothas and "talking black," even though I'd just "kissed white." Not to mention that it was a girl! But, that was a whole ‘nother topic.
Black folks used to criticize militants for "talking black" and "sleeping white". I hadn't slept white. I had only kissed white. And, I wasn't exactly a militant, but I wore an afro and was an active member of the Black Student Union. So, I felt conflicted.
I sighed and looked at Paula now. "Your daughter would have to become a Republican in order to rebel." I chuckled. I bit into a sesame-seed-covered ball filled with sweet paste.
"Or a fashion model." Paula frowned. "Hannah fusses about her appearance all the time."
Paula shook her head. "I used to dress like a hippie and I end up with a girly girl," Paula lamented. "How did that happen?"
I shrugged. "It just be's that way sometime."
"Huh?"
"You never heard that expression before?"
Paula shook her head.
"Don't you remember Nina Simone singing it?" I asked incredulously.
"Not really."
Even though I got hot flashes, I was still kewel.
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