In the introduction, titled “Practicing Impossibilities,” Valerie Traub discusses the appearance of homosexuality, specifically female same sex love, in various texts of the Renaissance period. Many contemporary critics consider lesbianism in the time period to be invisible—in existence, but not acknowledged. Traub uses specific examples to argue that although the end result of these various texts involves the reinstatement of heterosexual standards, female same sex love intentions and acts are nonetheless prevalent. Her ultimate goal is to “demonstrate the existence of a cultural awareness of women who desired other women in the early modern period…” and “…detail the complex and often contradictory modes of representation through which such desire was articulated” (Traub 6).

Traub specifies her reading of John Lyly’s play, Gallathea, in the introduction to her book “The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England.” She argues that ostensibly, Lyly’s play adheres to the cultural convention of female same sex love as an impossibility. Regardless, the sheer fact that Lyly’s play toys with the idea of women having a valid relationship by presenting this lifestyle in a paradoxical way (“practice…impossibilities”), Gallathea “helps to make the impossible intelligible and the unintelligible possible” (Traub 6).

I expand upon that argument by questioning the apparent ‘means to an end’ trope used in all of these (and other) texts. My argument is this: Although the idea of lesbianism, or female same sex desire, does seemingly show up in several early modern texts, it only appears as a dalliance in homosexual means ultimately leading to a heterosexual end. In addition, I would like to comment on the fact that upon further investigation of less liberal Renaissance texts, we see a harsh and sometimes even violent reaction to female same sex love in the early modern period. Not only do more liberal texts re-inscribe heterosexuality, but more conservative texts also actively work to demonize homosexuality, specifically female same sex practices. I would like to take special care in my reading of Gallathea. Although Lyly’s portrayal of homosexual erotic desire seems to function as one of the more liberal texts under consideration, I find this representation to function mainly as a plot stimulator and secondarily as comic relief. The two main female characters, Gallathea and Phyllida, dabble in the hugely apparent homosexuality that is the early part of their relationship by going into “the grove [to] make much of one another” (III.ii.56). Although Lyly does portray a form of homosexuality—in this case female same sex desire—this depiction is used as comic relief and ultimately is entirely negated by the intervention of Venus at the end of the play.

In conjunction with that idea, an examination of contemporary portrayals of the early modern period through popular movies such as Shakespeare in Love and Stage Beauty is necessary. How do these films portray the idea of homosexual love? Do the films also circumvent that idea by presenting a heterosexual end?

Laurie Shannon’s essay, “Nature’s Bias: Renaissance Homonormativity and Elizabethan Comic Likeness,” describes an anecdote taken from a letter dated June 27, 1564. The letter recounts an episode involving Queen Elizabeth discussing informal matters with Guzman de Silva, a Spanish ambassador. De Silva comments on Elizabeth’s sharp knowledge of language by telling what amounts to a funny joke that she had made. As the letter states, Elizabeth was asking about the health and overall wellness of Princess Juana. She then mentions her desire to meet the Princess to see “how well so young a widow and a maiden would get on together…[Elizabeth] being the elder would be the husband, and her Highness, the wife” (Shannon 195). Shannon then goes on to say that “Elizabeth’s language fluencies are more remarkable to de Silva than the marital fantasy that he records…” (Shannon 196). Elizabeth’s comment is so easily taken as a joke precisely because any type of female same sex desire was at the time construed as utterly preposterous.

Gallathea offers several examples of homosexuality used as a comedic device. There are two passages in particular which help to exemplify this point. The first involves  Gallathea and Phyllida as they encounter each other in a forest. They begin a dialogue in which each girl slowly becomes more aware of her possibly homoerotic feelings; as this level of awareness rises, each girl uses more difficult word games to announce her true sex.

Phyl. Have you ever a sister?

Gall. If I had but one, my brother must needs have two. But, I pray, have you ever a one?

Phyl. My father has but one daughter, and therefore I could have no sister.

Obviously, neither of them is very good at word games. Their meaning is painfully clear; yet, neither of them can (or more to the point, want to) figure out the truth. The theatricality of this segment is presumably hilarious. Perhaps the comedy rises out of the idea that female same sex love is impossible and therefore, as in the example involving Elizabeth’s marriage interests, easily dismissed as humor.

The second, and more ostensibly funny example, is a comment Tityrus makes about his wife. While he and Melebeus are arguing over whose daughter will be made into a son, Tityrus mentions that “if there be such changing, I would Venus could make my wife a man…Because she loves always to play with men” (V.iii.187-190). If Venus made Tityrus’ wife into a man, she could no longer cheat on him with other men. One reading of this joke could include the conclusion that somehow male same sex erotic desire was thought to be equally as ridiculous.

In her article “Psychomorphology of the Clitoris,” Traub discusses the anomaly of female same sex desire by examining the social construction of beliefs of an anatomical part and comparing those beliefs with several texts from the early modern period which cite or describe any female same sex erotic or emotional relationships. Traub focuses on early modern understandings of human anatomy as being linked to geographical exploration in a “common imperative to chart, catalog and colonize the body” (Traub 85). A result of this ‘discover-and-conquer’ method of understanding anatomy was a misrepresentation of the penis and vagina as isomorphous; one result of that idea—arguably due to the misogyny of those doing the ‘conquering’—is the thought that those two parts, although of the same structure and function, were somehow incommensurate.

In terms of geographical exploration, Traub offers numerous instances of travelers’ diaries and letters which include depictions of customs and cultures of foreign lands. Several of these texts examine the relationships amongst women. In every case, an observation of any female on female contact is described as filthy, unlawful, and impossible. Equivalent to the contemporary views of unicorns or making it rain by doing a dance, the idea of lesbianism simply did not compute for those not involved in a same sex erotic relationship. With the ‘discovery’ of female same sex eroticism as it was played out in other cultures, a new interest in the clitoris was realized. A theory was developed about the tribade, or a woman with an extended clitoris. Traub asserts that “penetration—with enlarged clitoris, fingers, or dildo—signified the greatest usurpation of male prerogatives.” She goes on to specify that “practices popularly conceived to be ‘tribadic’ often did not, indeed could not, distinguish between clitoral penetration and rubbing” (Traub 93).

Thomas Glover describes his encounter with a Turkish bathhouse in much the same way. He states, “Much unnaturall and filthie lust is said to bee committed daily in the remote closets of the darkesome Bannias: yea, women with women; a thing uncredible, if former times had not given thereunto both detection and punishment” (Traub 88). Again, what exactly constitutes ‘unnaturall and filthie’ is never discussed. While leaving the representations of this ‘tribadism’ vague, one message is clear: once felt, these female same sex desires are irresistible. This quote, however, is of special interest as there exists within it a crucial link, specifically in the word ‘uncredible.’ This new type of incontinence, in conjunction with the invention of the word tribade, signifies the advent of a new problem: how to explain the inexplicable.

Renaissance texts repeatedly make similar claims about female same sex desire as uncredible, invisible, repugnant, yet nonetheless, enthralling. “In discourses both past and present, the tribade (and her counterpart, the cross-dressed woman) has been for good or ill a figure of cultural fascination” (Traub 23). John Lyly’s Gallathea is no different. Act II of the play seems to act as Lyly’s thesis on his views of female same sex desire. Cupid curses Diana’s nymphs by vowing to “make their pains [his] pastimes and so confound their loves in their own sex that they shall dote in their desires, delight in their affections, and practice only impossibilities” (II.ii.7-10). How can someone be expected to engage in that which is thought to be impossible? Clearly—when compared to travelers’ texts, for example—Lyly has an extremely liberal view of female same sex desire. Yet Lyly still presents the idea of female homoeroticism as an impossibility. Although this may be a significantly more open minded view, the homosexual means of practicing the impossible do not justify the necessary heterosexual ends of the practice ultimately remaining impossible.

This theme is most apparent in the main plot of the play. Gallathea and Phyllida must both cross-dress as boys in order to escape Agar (an apparently phallic monster) who comes to take the “fairest and chastest virgin” (I.i.48) back to Neptune and certain doom. Soon after, Gallathea and Phyllida become enamored with each other’s beauty and grace. They declare their love as better because neither can “love as a brother” (IV.iv.15). Gallathea and Phyllida are aware of their own genders. What makes this early love heterosexual is their clinging to the belief that the character opposite is also of the opposite gender. The two girls, though given many chances, actuate the notion of “practicing impossibilities” or female same sex eroticism. When their true identities are revealed in the last scene of the play, their once pure desire is initially broken down. Phyllida calls her once “sweet desire…a sour deceit” (V.iii.146). Diana professes the impossibility of female same sex love in the next lines when she tells the girls they “must leave these fond, fond affections. Nature will have it so, necessity must” (V.iii.148). Neptune also describes female same sex desire. He thinks the idea of a girl doting on another and imagining a “constant faith where there can be no cause of affection” “an idle choice, strange and foolish” (V.iii.155). Clearly he does not approve. Homosexuality becomes unnatural and impossible, faithless and loveless, until Venus intervenes. Venus likes the idea, but the only way she can bring the ‘unpossible’ into the realm of possible is to circumvent the idea of female same sex love and make one of them into a man.

The idea that a woman’s anatomical gender signifier, the clitoris, can (whether through excessive manipulation or divine intervention) become its male anatomical counterpart, a penis, was thought to be the ultimate usurpation of the male prerogative. Lyly’s conclusion reiterates that possibility; that possibility works to reinstall the cultural fear of the tribade. Neptune’s lines about female same sex desire, whether erotic or deeply emotional, as baseless and foolish also helps to again synthesize the impossibility of female same sex desire.

Although there are significant differences in many cultural views today, unfortunately some of the analyses of female same sex love have remained constant since the early modern period. Contemporary portrayals of homoeroticism are still used as comedic relief, as in the case of films such as Chuck and Larry. Female to male cross-dressing along with a resulting female same sex romance is still used as a plotline and is still debunked by the reinstatement of the heterosexual normative (see Sorority Boys). When we examine films such as Shakespeare in Love, we see, even when accompanied by historical fact, the creation of contemporary portrayals of queerness in the early modern period shepherded by the construction of heteronormative sanctions.

Lesbianism is still portrayed as silly or implausible. Meaningful and lasting homosexual relationships are continually undercut by modern cultural ideas of same sex relationships. These contemporary depictions of homosexuality, specifically female same sex love, sustain fears about tribadism, lesbianism, and overall queerness in a marked way. Continued homosexual oppression in contemporary society is just one result of these unfair portrayals of queer life. The time for change has long since past, but it is never too late. A revised outlook on homosexuality must be introduced in order before a broad cultural acceptance of equality is reached.

Lyly, John. “Gallathea.” Drama of the English Renaissance I The Tudor Period. Russell A. Fraser; Norman Rabkin. Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc. 1976. pg 125-143.

Shannon, Laurie. “Nature’s Bias: Renaissance Homonormativity and Elizabethan Comic Likeness.” University of Chicago. 2000. pg 183-210.

Traub, Valerie. “The Perversion of ‘Lesbian’ Desire.” History Workshop Journal. 1996. Vol. 41. pg 23-49.

Traub, Valerie. “Practicing Impossibilities.” The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England. Cambridge University Press. 2002. pg 1-35.

Traub, Valerie. “The Psychomorphology of the Clitoris.” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies. 1995. pg 81-113.