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| Woman vs. Nature by Kelty Garbee
Have you ever been to Girl Scout camp? If so, you may remember the huge A-frame, waterproof canvases supported by wooden platforms that the Girl Scouts call tents. Complete with wooden stoops that seat roughly six Brownies, these so-called tents hardly offer an up-close and personal view of nature. Rather, they offer a cocoon-like environment in which young girls, accompanied by 30 of their peers and supervised by just about as many leaders, may go "camping." For the majority of my life, this experience with the outdoors called Girl Scout camp had been my only exposure to camping.
But that changed this past summer when I somewhat haphazardly ended up at In Touch, a women's campground about 45 minutes outside of Charlottesville. The whole story began when I went to see The Uppity Blues Women and ended up meeting Erin McKeown, a talented young woman who plays guitar and writes songs. After learning that I attended U.Va., Erin mentioned that she would be playing at a music festival outside of Charlottesville later on in the summer. I thought, "What the hell, this could be fun," and promptly signed up not only as a camper, but also as a festival worker. I never realized that my "What the hell" would have such resounding implications.
When I originally received material from In Touch about the women's music festival, I read the In Touch mission statement which says that it is "a camping and events center that welcomes women of all sexual orientations, ethnic backgrounds, and spiritual paths to learn, grow, and simply be together." After showing the brochure to my mom, she said, "You're going to be the only heterosexual female there. Is that OK with you?" Indignant at my mother's presumptuousness, I retorted, "Just because it is a women's music festival it doesn't necessarily mean that everyone will be a lesbian."
Three weeks later, as I drove through the gates of In Touch campground and down the excruciatingly long driveway, I began to feel very nervous. After a two-and-a-half-hour drive from home, I had arrived at the site of the Virginia Women's Music Festival full of questions not only about the people and the place where I would be spending the next three days, but also about my own ability to survive the weekend. The festival was scheduled to start on a Friday, but as a worker I was required to arrive on Thursday evening and attend a worker's meeting. As soon as the meeting was over I picked up my laundry basket of clothes and home furnishings and hurried off to find a campsite.
Wandering rather cautiously past the aptly named "Port-A-Janes" and into the dark woods, I began searching for a suitable place for my nylon fortress. After finally settling on a campsite, I began putting up my tent; only then did I realize that there was a large fallen pine tree covering much of my campsite. Hell-bent and determined to set up camp once and for all, I succeeded in moving the tree and making enough room for my tent. Nevertheless, as I stood there in the dark trying to make sense of the various parts of my tent strewn all over the campsite, I experienced a full range of emotions, beginning with hope and ending with desperation.
Just as the situation got critical, two unknown women came out of the dark to my rescue. Although I didn't meet these women until later on in the weekend and I can't even recall their names, I do remember their actions. We are all taught to think of women as the second sex, the weaker sex -- and I dare say that if my dilemma had occurred at any other campground, there would not have been two unknown women offering to help put my tent up in the middle of the night. But at In Touch, where the entire campground was conceived by and created for women, it is not uncommon to receive unsolicited help from those around you. This spirit of community was demonstrated not only by campers but also by women who volunteered to work at the Virginia Women's Music Festival. And having attended the festival as both a camper and a worker, I was able to participate in many aspects of the community of women at In Touch.
Ironically, it was in this community of women -- where I felt most at home as a female -- that I was most uncomfortable with my sexuality. My mom was right when she said that I would probably be the only non-lesbian at the festival. In everyday life, everyone is automatically assumed to be heterosexual, but not at In Touch where it was generally thought that everyone was lesbian or bisexual. My reality was turned upside down as I found myself to be the lone heterosexual in a world of presumed homosexuality. This became painfully clear to me on Friday afternoon as everyone made plans to attend the dance later that night. I had pushed my bravery to the limit by deciding to camp alone for the first time ever, and I knew that I wouldn't know how to respond if a woman asked me to dance. Luckily I was able to escape the evening's entertainment of country music and line dancing by going to the campfire. Nevertheless, I was still unable to shake my discomfort as I realized that many of the women were at the campfire with their partners and those who weren't were looking for partners.
After the campfire, as I retreated alone to my one-person pup tent, I realized that my sexual orientation had not affected my ability to relate to others and function as part of the In Touch community. While I may have felt uncomfortable as a minority, my heterosexuality in a predominantly homosexual environment did not make me any more or less useful as a festival worker and does not make me any more useful in everyday life. My experiences at In Touch may not be reflective of my everyday life as a heterosexual female, but In Touch made it possible for me to gain a new perspective on life by moving beyond the comfort of my usual circumstances and having my reality turned upside down. | back to Decweb main |
