I like the word gay. But I like “lesbian” better.

I like it because of Sappho of Lesbos, a lesbian and a Lesbian whose memory reminds us that women who loved women existed long before any time on earth that any living person can remember.

I like it because of Sappho’s poetry, the sweet prose she wrote for the goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Aphrodite has her counterpart in the Roman goddess Venus, whose symbol has evolved to represent the woman, the female, the feminine.

I like it because of its culture and history. Butch, fem, stud, dyke. Bars where women drink and dance and laugh and kiss other women. Boston marriages. Women’s colleges. They wanted Ellen to get a puppy but she wanted to kiss a lady.

It hasn’t all been pretty. This word has been taken from us, made into a fetish, a porn category, fuel for men’s libidos. Hysterical. Asocial. Deviants. Lesbians.

But that makes me love it all the more—to spite them, to spite the men who salivate over us, to spite the churches that rally against us, to spite it all. But I wear this badge for more than just spite. I wear it for love. Love for women, love for our history, love for love for… lesbian.

It’s not a dirty word. It’s beautiful, and I am proud to call myself a lesbian.