“A Lesbian Appetite” by Dorothy Allison, chapter from Through the Kitchen Window: Women Explore the Intimate Meanings of Food and Cooking edited by Arlene Voski Avakian
“I’ve given it up. If I cannot eat what I want, then I’ll eat what I must, but my dreams will always be flooded with salt and grease, crisp fried stuff that sweetens my mouth and feeds my soul. I would rather starve death than myself.” (pg.277-278)
This essay presents a collection of memories from author Dorothy Allison, as she revisits relationships past and the meals and foods she shared with each of them. I was particularly drawn to this essay as academic readings that study queer relationships are few and far between, and to find one that exclusively highlights wlw relationships but does not shy away from the sexuality within those relationships was too good to pass up. It is far too common that an academic source will ignore queer sexuality, and combined with pop-cultures affinity to focus only on the sexual aspects of a queer relationship, opening these lines of dialog within these kinds of readings is essential to the survival of queer spaces and politics.
Each of the relationships referenced within this chapter explore food consumption and emotional connection to meals in tandem with the sexual connection between the author and their lover. Early in this piece Allison states;
“I’ve only had one lover who didn’t want to eat at all. We didn’t last long. The sex was good, but I couldn’t think what to do with her when the sex was done. We drank spring water together and fought a lot.” (pg.277)
This makes it clear to the reader how intertwined food and sex are for the author and is a foreshadow to the ways in which “hunger” plays a multi-faceted role in her life. This raises the question of how separate instances of pleasure, such as from a good meal, good sex, or other physical satisfactions, can satiate hunger or cravings in a manner that interlaps each other.
“It’s good to watch you eat” Mona told me, serving me dill bread, sour cream, and fresh tomatoes. “You do it with such obvious enjoyment”. (pg.279)
The first relationship we get a look into is with Mona, who tells our author of the joy she gets from seeing her joy. The pleasure she feels from watching her lover experience pleasure. In my mind, Mona represents both the familiarity and safety of consuming food that brings you pleasure, and the gentle sexual undertones of wanting your partner to experience pleasure.
“She drove us up to visit her family in Georgia, talking about what a great cook her mama was. My mouth watered, and we stopped three times for boiled peanuts. I wanted to make love in the back seat of her old DeSoto but she was saving it up to do in her own bed at home.” (pg.279-280)
Whilst the relationship seems idealistic, the visit to Monas family also seems to represent the end of the relationship. After telling Dorothy of how amazing her mother’s food is, the meal they are met with is disappointing, the opposite of the pleasure she had been waiting for. Whilst we never get any references to it, I wonder if this reflects the sex she had been waiting for.
Other memorable sections;
“I took the wedge of eggplant and rubbed it on the back of her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Salting the eggplant.” I followed the eggplant with my tongue, pulled up her T-shirt, and slowly ran the tough purple rind up to her small bare breasts. Lee started giggling, wiggling her ass, but not taking her hands out of the flour to stop me. I pulled down her shorts, picked up another dry slice and planted it against her navel, pressed with my fingers and slipped it down her pubic mound.” (pg. 281)
“I’ll cook you… just you wait. I’ll cook you a meal to drive you crazy.”
“Oh, honey.” She tasted like frybread- thick, smoked, and fat-rich on my tongue.” (pg.282)
“I licked her fingers and fed her with my own hands. We never did get our clothes back on.” (pg.282)
Tomatoes by Stephen Dobyns
A woman travels to Brazil for plastic
surgery and a face-lift. She is sixty
and has the usual desire to stay pretty.
Once she is healed, she takes her new face
out on the streets of Rio. A young man
with a gun wants her money. Bang, she’s dead.
This first section presents somewhat of a time circle, showing the aging, youthfulness, and then death of this woman within just a few lines. This is an interesting setup for the tone and behaviors surrounding the body of the poem’s subject.
With her new face, she has become a stranger.
Maybe it’s this one, maybe it’s that one.
He looks at their breasts. Which ones nursed him?
He presses their hands to his cheek.
Which ones consoled him? He even tries
climbing onto their laps to see which
feels most familiar but the coroner stops him.
While not sexual, the son of this woman seeks the pleasure and comfort he once found in her body as the identifying factor. There is also something to be explored in her own son being unable to identify herself with this new surgery. Is her appearance really so different, or is her son blinded by his mother’s youth? Unable to imagine her mother in such a way?
Well, says the coroner, which is your mother?
They all are, says the young man, let me
take them as a package. The coroner hesitates,
then agrees. Actually, it solved a lot of problems.
The young man has the ten women shipped home,
then cremates them all together.
The way they talk about the women being a package deal and having them shipped home together makes me think of a butcher shop, wrapping these women up like meat and having them sent off with the customer.
In the spring, he drags the garbage can
out to the garden and begins working the teeth,
the ash, the bits of bone into the soil.
Then he plants tomatoes. His mother loved tomatoes.
They grow straight from seed, so fast and big
that the young man is amazed. He takes the first
ten into the kitchen. In their roundness,
he sees his mother’s breasts. In their smoothness
he finds the consoling touch of her hands.
Mother, mother, he cries, and flings himself
on the tomatoes. Forget about the knife, the fork,
the pinch of salt. Try to imagine the filial
starvation, think of his ravenous kisses.
The conclusion of the poem really brings the full story into clarity, this mans attempt to find the familiarity and comfort he once found in his mother. As he eats the tomatoes he attempts to reconnect with his now dead mother, consuming her through the flesh of the fruit. The final line and its reference to starvation parallels grief and the loss of a loved one in a raw and tangible manner.
Kitchen Scene by Peter Wtetael
In this flirtatious painting we see a kitchen maid and an errand boy leaning in and locking eyes with each other as they go about their work. While the eroticism within is more subtle than their obvious attraction to one another, it is not hard to imagine that the skewering of the meat in combination with their knowing grins implies more than simple friendliness. Not to mention the um, hanging cock (or rooster) we see on one side of the room, and the basket of eggs hanging from this young mans arm, both of which could be hints at sexuality within this scene.
My Nurse by Meret Oppenheim
This sculpture is made up of two white high-heeled shoes tied up with kitchen string, most commonly used on large roasts or whole poultry, plated on a silver serving platter and decorated with delicate paper trimmings on the tips of the shoes to give the visual of a turkey. When I first found this piece I couldn’t help but laugh at both the absurdity and the spot-on symbolism found within this imagery.
My takeaway from this piece by Oppenheim, who was known for her surrealist sculptures and artwork, is that of a viscous and long-standing paradox that exists between women and the kitchen, both in 1937 and the present day. This sculpture demonstrates the way women are both responsible for the feeding and nourishment of society through their work in the kitchen, and are simultaneously seen as that which is to be consumed. Seen as both the provider and the provided, taken for granted, tied up with kitchen yarn, and forced to serve up a dinner of their own oppressed voices. However, this piece also feels like an act of rebellion, instead of merely making it known Oppenheim serves back to the viewer a meal less appetizing, a mirror into their own actions and opinions which they must now digest.