Where those labels are seemingly incongruous is where our complicated, loving relationship lives

As my trans heartthrob tells me: “TERFs don’t have space for the complexities and nuances of individuals. TERF ideology is based on fear, pain and the desire to ‘other’. And I have no interest in defining myself by other people’s pain.”

My lesbianism is inclusive; it celebrates gender diversity as much as it celebrates women; it celebrates different expressions of sapphic love and attraction; it celebrates camaraderie and a shared history with queer people of all genders. It celebrates its own queerness.

M y attraction to Amelia is queer, as theirs is to me: there are sapphic elements to our relationship, there is a playful balance of masculine, feminine, androgynous and pure chaotic energies

“Labels develop with time and safety,” my stunning partner and co-pet-parent reflects. “Non-binary is the best descriptor for me, and lesbian is the best descriptor for you.

O utside of our home, we are mistaken for a lesbian couple. While this doesn’t reflect the complexities of our identities, it does shape how we experience the world.

By ourselves, we are just two people in love, doing DIY projects (Amelia), making collages out of old porno mags (Alex) and imitating silly voices for our pets (both).

We navigate the challenges of being a visibly queer couple in the world, and we honour the nuances of our private identities, even if these aren’t affirmed by society at large – when a waiter calls us “ladies”, when my outreach worker thinks “partner” equals “boyfriend”, or even when the queer community assumes “lesbian” means “women only”.

My sweetheart says it best: “We are more than the sum of our labels. When it comes down to the simple acts of loving and being loved, if you can find it, take care of it and feed it, then who cares what anyone else calls us?”

Alex Creece is a writer, poet, collage artist and average kook living on Wadawurrung land. Alex works as the Online Editor for Archer Magazine and the Production Editor for Cordite Poetry Review. She’s also on the editorial committee for Sunder Journal. Alex was awarded a Write-ability Fellowship in 2019 and a Wheeler Centre Hot Desk Fellowship in 2020. A sample of Alex’s work was Highly Commended in the 2019 Next Chapter Scheme, and she was shortlisted for the 2021 Kat Muscat Fellowship. In 2022, Alex was shortlisted for the inaugural Born Writers Award and the Lord Mayor’s Creative Writing Award.

Amelia Newman (they/them) is a writer, theatre maker and performer born in Narrm/Melboune. Amelia has worked extensively with Riot Stage Youth Theatre and they have had their work presented at La Mama https://lovingwomen.org/no/blog/norske-datingsider/ Theatre, Melbourne Fringe Festival, Northcote Town Hall, Arts House and Siteworks. Amelia’s debut play ‘Younger and Smaller’ is published with Australian Plays Transform and has been produced by schools across the country. Amelia is passionate about LGBTIQ+ stories and characters. Their work has a keen focus on mental health representation and destigmatisation. They are based in Djilang/Geelong and work across Narrm/Melbourne.

I know you love me, and that’s what I care about

By contrast, Amelia has the capacity for enriching relationships with men, and their attraction to men feels no different from their attraction to people of other genders. Amelia is still beautifully bisexual.

By the same token, we cannot celebrate lesbianism without uplifting trans and non-binary lesbians, who make up a huge – and fantastic – portion of the lesbian community, as well as First Nations lesbians and lesbians of colour, butch lesbians, lesbians with disabilities (shoutout to my fellow autistic lesbians!), and so many more.