sapphic fiction – OutWrite

A digital illustration of two women holding hands and looking at a painting of two women. The couple's clothing color palette matches the two women's clothing in the painting. The woman on the left has light brown skin, curly brown hair, a blue bandana, and a brown vest over a light blue long-sleeve shirt. The woman on the right has light skin, straight brown hair, a red beret, a tan shirt, and a black purse. The women in the painting wear a red scarf and a blue scarf respectively.

The Underrepresentation of Sapphic Identities in Literature: A Historical Analysis

My first June after discovering sapphic literature was one of eager anticipation. I had loved sapphic novels from the moment I picked up “The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics” the year prior, and waited all year for Pride Month so that I could get new recommendations. Sure enough, they started rolling in! Scrolling through TikTok, I saw video after video advertising “queer book recs.” But what I saw was disappointing at best. In these videos, the word “queer” seemed to be synonymous with male-loving-male (MLM); every single video was full of nothing but MLM novel recommendations.

An illustration of a light-skinned girl with long light brown hair in a pink sweater holding hands with a girl with brown skin and her dark brown curls tied up in a bun in a white turtleneck and red shirt. They both look backwards and up, their faces filled with worry. Blue silhouettes of people with angry faces loom above them.

Arts & Entertainment

The Oversexualization of Lesbian Relationships in Media

The entertainment industry profits off the sexualization of women. Whether typecast as a complacent suburban housewife or a strong crime-fighting machine, women in media are reduced to their sexual attributes, especially lesbians and other queer people.

A digital illustration of two people, one with light brown skin and shoulder-length dark brown hair in a gray suit and one in a blue hoodie with light skin and bob-length blond hair. They stand under an orange umbrella in a green hazy forest.

Creative Writing

The Umbrella

Lea was already late, running down the sidewalk like a marathon sprinter in the last leg of a race. She dodged around screaming babies in strollers, men in ironed suits in the midst of an argument, and bright yellow fire hydrants. She yelled a quick “Sorry!” or an “Excuse me!” as she weaved her way through the crowds of people hustling to enter the sanctity of their cars after work. Los Angeles at five in the afternoon was not a friendly place.