Lesbian Porn for Beginners

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The Hamra Festival was an obvious attraction hub to half the population of Beirut. By half the population, I mean me bumping into most of my queer friends, the concert groupies, the happy, happy families (which include kids in strollers), and the knowledgeable guys. As we were walking back to our car one night, one of them was exposing his thorough understanding of lesbian sex to the bunch of girls hopping around him with squeaks of admiration, we couldn’t but overhear a valuable piece of information.

– Knowledgeable Guy about lesbian sex: And they have sexual practices called… (lowers voice) FISTING.
– (Disgusted) Girl #1: Ewwww!
– (Enthusiastic) Girl #2: Where do you learn all this?

For us, it was obvious: Our epic boaster has been hooked on too much mainstream lesbian porn.

Pornography in itself does not have the property to alienate the viewer’s ability to have sexual partners. And while it’s a tool for sexual arousal, it does not bestow on masturbation the effect of an addictive drug. However, porn designed by heteronormative males – the target audience being… heteronormative males – can be harmful to a high extent when it comes to perpetuated stereotypes about lesbians and fixed assumptions.

First, a disclaimer about fisting: Lesbians are not the only creatures with hands. Anybody can fist, provided nails are properly trimmed and medical gloves are used with the correct amount of lube (and no, 14-centimeter nails on a dry pussy do not constitute the optimal conditions for such a practice).

In a big white bed (replace with sofa or office chair) with red curtains (replace with muslin or silk) and cherry wood (replace with parquet or marble), two (almost) naked women are having some real fun. Does it sound familiar?

Any good porn director knows that for a “successful” lesbian scene, some constituents come at hand.

The “fuck-me” stilettos: Lesbians do not have sex with stilettos on. As a matter of fact, most lesbians I know would wear stilettos as a Halloween costume.

The French manicured 14-centimeter nails: Not only are long nails quite uncomfortable, but they’re also a nest for microbes and can provoke lesions in the vaginal tissues.

The bimbo make-up: Having sex with make-up on is like working in a building site with a tie and a suit.

The sprayed vamp hair: The brunette, the blondie, the redheaded. Have I whetted your appetite?

The stereotypical bodies: Lesbian or not, huge boobs and big asses to a slim body are uncommon outside the artistic touches of a plastic surgeon.

The dry pussy: Women do get (very) wet when aroused. If we don’t, it’s usually a bad sign.

Lack of sincerity and evident fakeness put aside, lesbian sex is pictured as a series of methodic steps to be fulfilled. First comes the licking, then the fingering, then the toys. Then they swap. And for some mysterious reason, they constantly rub their own nipples all along while grunting and inhaling through their teeth. While Labibi affirms that “when they use toys, it’s like they’re stuffing a turkey,” SS wonders “how much that jaw can handle with a stiff tongue out as far as possible. They have to stick their tongues out so much so that the camera can show tongue and clit at the same time.”

Indeed, what mainstream lesbian porn doesn’t tell us is that rubbing a woman’s clit as if dust is being swept off only leads to… a sore clit. It doesn’t tell us that an exclusively vocal orgasm is usually faked. It doesn’t tell us that toys should not be shared. Most of all, it doesn’t tell us that lesbians do not engage in sexual activities with other women to fulfill men’s fantasies, to attract their attention, or to lure them into some sort of naughty sexual scheme.

So for the straight guys out there who include “having sex with a lesbian” as a bullet point on their list of achievements: No, we are not moaning machines. No, our pussy doesn’t have to be shaved. Yes, our tongue does get tired. No, toys and dildos are not a substitute for penises, and no, we are not waiting for a dick to bang us. So if two girls are making out in a bar, it is rude to stare (get over it – they’re not doing it for your own pleasure).

As for me, I like to think of the female bodies as plentiful, and those that press against mine never-ending discoveries. Nothing is as satisfying as the silent orgasm of a woman who’s smiling, eyes closed, or her passionate gasp in mid-sentence while she tightens up around my fingers. And as I hold her with my whole arms and legs, as emotions radiate inside the room, I never worry or care about what a guy would think if he saw us. When bodies slowly put down their resistance, no camera can capture the increased heart beat, the impatient palpitation, and what I read in her eyes.


Gya is a queer feminist who lives in a pink bedroom in the “2aryeh”. She doesn’t notice the curious setting as she remains in her bubble of unknown poets and mysterious femme fatales. If she’s not busy laying a poem in a cafe on Hamra street while sipping her French Press, she is most probably daydreaming about someone somewhere. Tough life that is. She looks innocent almost all the time, yet being obnoxious is one of her main daggers (or so she was told). Gya likes to live life to the fullest. She can't be put in a box, even if it's pink. She loves strong feelings and colors, and expresses herself with both her body and mind.

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