A groundbreaking exhibition is opening in Melbourne this October, showcasing three decades of lesbian activism, creativity, and community-building. Lesbians Leap from the Archives 1970–2000 brings together rare materials from personal collections and national archives to honour the women who shaped feminist and lesbian culture across Australia.

For decades, bisexual women have been pushed to the margins of lesbian feminist spaces — from separatist ideology in the 1970s to modern dating apps and community discourse. This article traces that history through archives, old LOTL issues, and lived experience, revealing how exclusion was justified, how it persists, and why solidarity between lesbians and bi+ women is vital for our shared liberation.

Limerence isn’t just a crush — it’s the overwhelming, involuntary longing that can take over your entire emotional landscape. In this intimate reflection, Jody Ekert explores how desire, projection, and queer culture collide, revealing why sapphic limerence can feel so intoxicating, so consuming, and so hard to recognise.

Meeting Joan Nestle at the Letters From Ger exhibition felt like stepping into living queer history. Everything I’d learned about the 1950s, Stonewall, and the early days of lesbian activism had always come from books or documentaries. Hearing Joan speak — a woman who has been out since the 1950s and founded the Lesbian Herstory Archives — awakened a hunger in me for real, tangible stories from elders in our community. What began as a chance encounter quickly became a friendship that reshaped my understanding of queer lineage, activism, and love.

Lesbian activists played a pivotal role in shaping Australia’s early gay rights movement. From the Daughters of Bilitis to CAMP INC, Gay Liberation, and Women’s Liberation, lesbians were central to public education, protest, and political organising throughout the 1960s and 1970s

Travelling to Uralla for a Winter Solstice celebration becomes an unexpected moment of reflection — on ageing, queer community, regional life, and the small rituals that help us navigate the longest night of the year. Among lanterns, bonfires, and shared wishes, a sense of connection emerges in a month where acceptance has felt fragile. It might just be the most beautiful night of the year.

Activist, athlete, 78er and late‑blooming storyteller Kate Rowe joins Silke for a powerful conversation about lesbian identity, protest, community, and aging out loud. From the night of the 1978 Mardi Gras arrests to the shifting “queer alphabet” of today, Kate reflects on courage, conflict, humour, and finding her voice in her seventies. Her stories bridge generations - reminding us why lesbian history matters now more than ever.

A fast, feminist dive into the hidden history of drag kings — from ancient theatre and early male impersonators to Stonewall, the 1990s king boom, and today’s post‑pandemic resurgence. Long live the drag king.

A heartfelt reflection on growing up queer in regional Queensland, discovering community through roller derby, navigating long‑distance love, and returning home with a non‑binary partner. This piece explores fear, visibility, Pride and the quiet acts of courage that help others step into the light.

A reflective and queer‑affirming exploration of how to tell whether a relationship is facing ordinary challenges, evolving into something new, or quietly approaching its end. From conflict and communication to safety, renewal and the courage to leave, this piece offers grounded guidance — and a reminder to always start by calming down and making a cup of tea.

Healing isn’t about perfection — it’s about returning to connection. Drawing on Hawaiian wisdom, Charlie Snow reflects on belonging, balance, and the radical act of showing up as our full selves.

A series of intimate, poetic reflections capturing the small moments that shape queer life — the ones we rarely talk about, but never forget.

For queer women, family isn’t always defined by blood. It’s built through loyalty, love, and the people who show up when it matters.

More queer women than ever are coming out in their 40s, 50s, and beyond. Their stories reveal something powerful: identity doesn’t expire — it evolves.