Tret Fure, Women’s Music, and Gay Rights

Last Updated: September 9, 2024

Ohio Feminist Art Museum (OFAM) speaks with founding member Sheryl, a resident of Ohio since the 1970s, regarding her experiences in the gay community, Women’s Music as a safe space, and the ongoing evolution of civil rights in America.

“Being in this community, the hardest part is feeling like you have to live two lives.”

Sheryl sits across from us, inside the screen of a computer. Her jaw is set in a resolute line but her eyes are bright and kind. White hair falls to her shoulders, brushed back in soft waves. 

“The [gay] community has always been harassed, it's a known thing,” she says. 

“You'll meet people even now, one foot still in the closet, because you're not sure if you have to disappear at any given time, disappear as far as who you are.”

Still a reality for many LGBTQ+ individuals in today’s America, society is not kind to those who challenge the status quo. The wheels of progress are slow to turn, spurred only by the brave who rise against the zeitgeist.

“Tret Fure’s music is part of a genre that spoke to people who had to hide who they were, hide who they loved, who had families they lost… It gave us strength to know we were in a safe space.”

Sheryl speaks about the love, loss, and physical danger she has experienced simply for loving another woman. She explains that “in this community, we call each other family because we had to become each other’s family.”

“I had someone who was a second cousin to me… who lost her entire family because she came out. I've seen it firsthand, and you hear about it, and you know what your boundaries are because you've heard about it and because of how people in your own family have reacted.”

Sheryl recalls the pain of losing a close friend, who told her that “other people can have gay friends, but I can't. Even though you and I have been close friends for a long time, I can't be your friend.”

“You know,” she says, “it took until 1973, before the American Psychiatric Association said that being homosexual was not a mental illness. Until then, you could still be institutionalized.”

“This is the attitude my parents grew up with,” she adds. 

Gay liberation hit a turning point in the 1970s, hot on the heels of Stonewall. 

“People were saying, I'm not going to do it anymore.” Born from a feminist movement that rejected the lesbian experience, the underground emergence of Women’s Music “was so freeing, because you could sit next to the person that you cared about. You could hold their hand maybe or put your arm around them and you didn't have to worry about being beat up in the parking lot afterwards.”

“[Women’s Music] wasn’t even out that much in the pronouns,” Sheryl clarifies. “You knew what she was talking about.”

“You knew when she was asking somebody to take her hand, she was talking about a female. It didn't have to be specifically stated.”

Iconic musicians like Cris Williamson and Tret Fure were instrumental in fostering a community of safety and acceptance. These events offered a momentary reprise from the judgment and hate perpetrated by mainstream society against LGBTQ+ individuals. 

“I typically ask before I go anywhere, how gay-friendly is this place? Am I going to have to worry about getting jumped because I'm walking down the sidewalk with somebody that I'm with?”

“It’s exhausting,” Sheryl states. 

“And the nice thing is, a lot of us have paved the way for things not to have to be that way but I'm still skeptical… that's just my nature.”

“I'm probably more in the closet than most,” Sheryl reflects, “because [most] people now have the support of their families if they come out. They're not going to lose their best friend. There's going to be an understanding and an embracing. That wasn't there before.”

“That's something I still have to unlearn, but it's really hard when you have a lifetime of otherness.”

Growing up, Sheryl moved around a lot. 

“When I’m really tired, you'll hear my southern accent come out,” she laughs. 

“The church was so important to my family. My grandmother and my favorite aunt were really involved with the church. There are a lot of wonderful things that happen with Jesus' doctrine.”

“But I'm telling you, when you're other, you know.”

“I was at a Methodist event where they were talking about including gays and being able to marry. The associate pastor from my church was the pro-part of the debate… and I still struggle with the trauma of that day, trying to be open [and] have somebody who maybe has never been able to meet someone like me be able to ask questions.”

“After telling my story… There was a woman who grabbed her Bible, threw it in front of me, and said, ‘You're going to go to hell and you’ve got to read this. The church will never, ever accept you.’” 

“It took a long time for me to find a church where I felt accepted and it's King Avenue. They've been wonderful and accepting [with] open doors, and they actually mean it.”

Sheryl recounts another time she stood up for being other.

“I worked [at my previous job] for 27 and a half years and [...] my boss came in one day laughing about a ‘bull dyke’ that he saw at a gas station.”

“I was like, ‘That's it. I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm either going to lose my job and his respect or I'm going to keep my job and gain his respect.’ So I went in and I said, ‘You know that bull dyke that you were talking about earlier?’”

“He goes, ‘Yeah?’” 

“I said, ‘Well, that's me. You're talking about me because I'm gay.’” 

“And the look of embarrassment on his face was palpable. The feeling was palpable. And he didn't make that mistake again. I didn't lose my job and I think he stepped up a notch in humanity.”

“But [when you come out] you have to be willing to. You have to think, am I going to lose it all for standing up for what I believe in?”

Sheryl now works for MK Wright, Founding Mother of the Ohio Feminist Art Museum and owner of a behavioral health agency. “Here, I don't have to hide that [part of me],” Sheryl says. “And let me tell you, that feeling, that freedom is really freeing. It's really different.”

“When MK said that she was going to be talking to Tret Fure, I [was] like, ‘Are you kidding me?’”

“I had to get over my fandom,” Sheryl says. “I obviously knew who she was [but] I'm sure there are a lot of people that don't know how big of a person she has been in the [gay] community.”

Everyone should know. 

“I don't care where she is. [If] she's close enough, I'm going to go. I'll support her.”

Sheryl will be introducing Tret Fure at the September 14 event in Columbus, Ohio. 

You can support OFAM, Tret Fure, and LGBTQ+ Community Awareness by joining for an evening of music and art on September 14, 2024. 

Live Stream & In-Person tickets available here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/ofam-presents-tret-fure-an-evening-of-music-art-tickets-978204073717?aff=oddtdtcreator