It's Personal(s): The Unchanging Polestar of Queer Connection 

June 9, 2020 Emily Win

"HAVE DILDO, WILL TRAVEL. Also have dildo harness! Inventive, creative, playful, sexual, sensuous mid-40s, zoftig, muscular, feminist butch woman seeks outdoor flings, indoor loverettes, and someday a committed, passionate, 'becoming' relationship with Ms. Right," reads a typical personal ad from the July/Aug 1989 issue of On Our Backs, a magazine published in the late 1970s that catered to the queer, sex-positive community. You can find it simply by searching Instagram for #onourbackspersonals. This hashtag, created by Kell Rakowski, is linked to @h_e_r_s_t_o_r_y, an account that asked “followers to submit their own personal ads." Eventually, the number of submissions "warranted their own account, @_Personals_." Queer womxn would write in personal ads searching for specific people or things; from threesomes to platonic pen pals. In 2018 Rakowski decided to build this community into an increasingly popular new queer platform.

Lex is a new "dating" app for queer womxn-loving-womxn people. ISO (In Search Of) are the magical letters that, when used together, call people in our community to rise up, band together, make connections, and form relationships. This dating app, established only within the past two years, does not allow photo, video, or audio footage: only text. The creators describe the app as "a lo-fi, text-based dating and social app" that prides itself in serving "womxn and trans, genderqueer, intersex, two spirit, and non-binary people for meeting lovers and friends." The sleek black and white sans serif font allows users to scroll through queers in search of BDSM, a roommate, a lifelong partner, calls for protests, community gatherings, kinky sex, artist gigs—you name it. Users simply tap the ad they wish to reply to and message the person based solely upon what their ad calls for.

Despite the drastic changes in technology and social standards over the past few decades, an apparent desire for the ways in which personal ads still function successfully in the queer community remains steadfast. As a community, we've made cultural strides from Stonewall up through the Marriage Equality Act and even general mainstream representation. In almost all major metropolitan cities, and even some smaller towns, queer love and affection is widely tolerated. Saying "this is my wife" or using they/them pronouns in non-queer spaces is rapidly being embraced. Yet, the overwhelming need and desire for, and affirmation of, queer connection still exists. Our yearning for human-to-human community building, sexual interactions, and romantic love remains unchanging. With endless possibilities of forming queer spaces and relationships, I question why an app like Lex continues to be successful. Why do we still need personals?

The queer herstory of personals dates back to the 1700s, when "Coded words, female names and other signals in personals were channels to privately expressing vulnerability and find companionship that society forbade." Personal ads were a radical act of self-preservation and covert organizing. The heteronormative society popularized it, but queer folks picked up on this culture throughout the 19th and 20th Centuries as well. By 1984, the cultural precursor was already established for On Our Backs to be a huge success among lesbians. In 1984, Debi Sundahl, Myrna Elana, and Nan Kinney launched a project where lesbians could witness "‘real’ and affirming representations of lesbian desires through photographs, erotic fiction, honest discussions, reviews, personal ads, sex ed pieces, and advice columns." The historical-cultural moment rested in the height of the "1970s-1980s Feminist Sex Wars that inflamed and polarized feminist activism, cultural production, and academia on issues around...heterosexuality, pornography, penetration, BDSM, butch/femme roles, and sex work in particular." The NewBridge Archive Project comments that it "filled a giant hole in lesbian sex culture as it redirected the discussion on authentic representations of lesbian desires." Although the magazine only ran from 1984-2006, the short-lived hype continues to emphasize the unchanging desire of queer womxn to honestly and safely connect.

Centuries after the first historical markers of queer ads, I find myself thankful for my sneaky queer predecessors. Within four months of moving to Los Angeles, Lex helped me find pen pals, drag king communities, roommates, new friends, and flirtatious flings. With every ISO listing, I find that I almost always receive what I ask for. Aside from these queer spaces, I've "liked" endless posts for certain kinks, dating advice, and sexual fantasies. In my experience, I've found folks to be overwhelmingly inclusive, accepting, and socially aware.

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Our community still craves this space because we, at large, are still facing systemic oppression, judgement, and violence. Furthermore, Lex focuses on allowing queer people of color to find one another and be present to racial differences. When I posted my ad "QTPOC Potluck Saturday," a new Lex friend and I gathered a gaggle of QTPOC strangers together for food, games, grievances, and laughter. The experience felt comfortable, easy, and liberating. Unlike Caucasian-centered queer community, our specific QTPOC community continues to be even more at risk, particularly in queer spaces. Without the common obstacles usually present like social anxiety, tokenism, accessibility, racism, policing, or general safety, folks can truly express their desires or concerns without fear or backlash. Lex is like old-fashioned personals, but more conscious of its virtual space.

The celebration that comes with an app like Lex is hardly just praise for another dating app, but a recognition of the social injustices we've overcome to be able to advocate, promote, and sustain a platform like this. While the personal ads of the 1700s and onwards spurred from the need for secrecy, Lex comes at a time where we can reach people in our community directly without being harassed, embarrassed, or taken advantage of. The progress we've made has not changed our desires, but it has made them more widely available, acceptable, and accessible.