Lesbian Connection: How a grassroots magazine shaped generations of queer women
For half a century, Lesbian Connection has been more than just a magazine — it’s been a lifeline, newsletter, public forum and rallying cry for queer women worldwide. Launched in September 1974 as a humble, grassroots publication, this reader-written magazine has survived the test of time, connecting women-loving women through personal stories, advice columns and community updates long before social media made such communication second nature.
The inspiration for Lesbian Connection magazine, affectionately known as “LC” or “Elsie” by its readers, struck during a cross-country road trip in 1973. Michigan taxi driver Margy Lesher and her then-girlfriend, Goldie, decided to hop in their car and “go around the country looking for the lesbians,” Lesher recalled.
The couple stayed with other lesbians they met along the way and collected names and addresses to stay connected with the greater Sapphic community. Feeling inspired after their weekslong journey, the duo decided to host the first Midwest Lesbian Conference in Lansing, Michigan, in the spring of 1974. However, they found it challenging to advertise the event, so they started the magazine so lesbians around the globe could share with one another and promote events of mutual interest.
“From our travels, we realized there were women all over doing things. They were starting bookstores and starting to publish books and records. Lesbian albums had just started coming out, and I figured it was great to have all these things, but if lesbians didn’t know about them, they were never going to succeed,” Lesher said, adding that the goal of the magazine was “to have a way that all the lesbians who were doing all these great things [could] get the word out about what they were doing.”
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Lesher formed a cohort of nine lesbians called “The Ambitious Amazons,” and the group, along with several other volunteers, took over a women’s center in Lansing, Michigan, to assemble the first issue. With ink-stained fingers, the women stapled together mimeographed pages to get the copies out to their earliest subscribers.
Since the beginning, Lesbian Connection has run almost entirely on subscriber donations. Each cover reads, “Free to lesbians worldwide, but the suggested donation is $7/issue (more if you can, less if you can’t).” The publication — which comes out every two months — is still going strong today, operating out of two small homes in Lansing.
Longtime reader, contributor and editor Nancy Manahan said she first stumbled upon Lesbian Connection in San Francisco in the mid-1970s, likely at the feminist bookstore Old Wives Tales. The raw, unfiltered nature of the content immediately struck her, she recalled, and she has subscribed ever since.
“It’s not monitored in a way that squelches debate or anger or opinions, and so it’s just so lively and real, and I think that’s kind of unusual and amazing that there’s so much tolerance for diversity and conflict,” she said. “It’s so much fun.”
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Manahan added, “A magazine that is created by readers entails a certain kind of buy-in, because all the readers know that nobody is forcing anything on us. Everybody is completely welcome to express their outrage.”
In recent years, readers have debated how transgender and nonbinary lesbians fit into Lesbian Connection, leading to some readers canceling their subscriptions. However, longtime reader Kathy Munzer said she feels these conversations are necessary for the community to learn and grow.
“We’re coming from different places. We need to listen to each other. I just think we could learn from each other,” Munzer said.
Munzer added that Lesbian Connection is a vital resource for the community. Regardless of how heated the debates may get, she said, the core mission of Lesbian Connection is to foster a sense of togetherness for an oppressed group.
“The stories are inspiring, and no matter where you live, it makes you feel like you’re not alone. You’re part of a loving, kind, smart, and caring community,” she said.
In the magazine, they also included a section called “Contact Dykes” where subscribers could list their contact information for lesbians traveling in their areas. The list is still going strong 50 years later.
Cheryl VanDeKerkhove, now in her 60s, was just 23 when she started working as a full-time staff member at Lesbian Connection in the early ’80s. She said she has always appreciated that the publication never shied away from debate.
“They do allow voices to come through that they know are not going to be well received in the community, because it gives the community a chance to educate itself, and it gives the community a chance to have the discussions that are really difficult,” she said. “That’s a constant that’s been going on since it started in the ’70s.”
As Lesbian Connection embarks on its second half-century, those behind the magazine say its mission is more important now than ever, especially with a second Trump presidency on the horizon. Manahan said she hopes younger readers subscribe to the magazine to arm themselves with knowledge for the new era of politics our country is about to enter.
“We are heading into a time that may bear a horrifying resemblance to what some of us struggled with half a century ago, and it might be really instructive to see the strategies and the courage and the risks that some of us in the ’60s and ’70s and ’80s and ’90s took all those years ago that younger generations may be faced with again,” she said.