Much has been written about how much easier it is for a lesbian to pass unnoticed in our society than for a gay man. After all, who would suspect the mom next door of being a devotee of Sappho? You know the mom I mean, the one with three nice, polite kids...active in the P.T.A....the one who always brings such great treats to the women's groups and the Tuesday morning coffee klatches...

You don't have any idea who I mean, do you? Perhaps the unmarried ones are easier to spot...you know...the "women in sensible shoes", to quote Robin Williams.

...maybe those nice older ladies who've lived just down the block for as long as anyone can remember? The old school chums who never married, and now share the family home that one of them inherited... Wasn't one of them a teacher, or librarian at the school, or something like that?

It is hard enough to judge any book by its cover, let alone figuring out someone's sexual preference by how they dress or behave...but I would suggest to you that often, the lesbian in June Cleaver's clothing does not even know she is "passing"...

Growing up in the era of free love (yes, dear, some of us survived the 60s relatively unscathed) was interesting, to say the least.So many things changed - fashions, music, sexuality, morality, ideas - everything we had grown up "just knowing" about life and how best to live it was challenged.

Living where I did relegated me and my teenage friends to the periphery of the action. Oh, all right! I might as well have lived on the far side of the moon...but we were all, nonetheless, influenced by the huge shift in popular culture. Possibilities seemed unlimited in the new light of the "Age of Aquarius".

New writers shone the spotlight on social inequalities. Helen Gurley Brown took the helm of "Cosmopolitan" and provocative books like The Female Eunuch began to reshape our thinking.

Any change, though, especially such a sweeping one that captured the minds and hearts of a generation, is met with resistance, and the back-swing came with a vengeance. The recent film Milk, as well as showcasing a tour-de-force portrayal by Sean Penn, revisits, in part, the spiteful hate-campaign involving the (since-recanted) Orange Juice queen, Anita Bryant.

Another film from that era of change, The Naked Civil Servant, offers some insight into the life and times of Quentin Crisp, a self-declared national monument. I was quite fascinated to hear Mr. Crisp in an interview shortly after viewing his film. It had been broadcast in a late, late, late night time slot, and, while channel surfing, I had the good fortune to accidentally come across it. What an awakening! I had never thought much about such things - in fact, I hadn't known such people existed.

(No, I did not grow up in a convent, ;). My parents encouraged us to talk about any suitable topic over dinner, and always reinforced the notion of thinking for oneself and seeking the truth of a situation, or at least as much information as one could gather, before choosing a position.)

Marrying young, though, and leaving kith and kin to begin a new life far from home had a stunting effect on my internal growth. Like any dutiful, young wife of that time, I tended to adopt my new husband's point of view on many issues. Move over, Ozzie and Harriet - the Cleavers, the Nelsons, and "Father Knows Best" had nothing on us. Though of a much earlier era, they were still the role models held up as the perfect family...and what well-brought-up new bride didn't strive for the perfect family, I ask you.

...to return to "the tower", though...

Traditionally, Rapunzel is portrayed as waiting for her devoted prince to storm the bastion of her unawakened self, symbolized by the Witch Gothel's tower, and awaken the imprisoned princess to love's sweet dream. The prince is anxious to quench his growing ardor in the princess' awakening flames of love. After all, has he not climbed to her boudoir on several occasions already? The princess, however, lingers. Is it out of regard for the witch, who has kept her safe from the world for so long? Why this curious reticence to answer the siren call of the outside world?

Let me offer another version of the tale...

Once upon a time, in a far, far distant galaxy...Oh, darn! Sorry - George Lucas already used that one...OK, let me see...

Once upon a time, in a far distant kingdom (that's better - stick with the tried and true) a young woman stood on the verge of womanhood. She found it an uneasy place to stand, because the view from the verge was rather, shall we say, vertiginous. There seemed to be quite a drop-off just ahead, and the princess was unsure how best to make the leap from Girlhood, where she now stood, to the far kingdom of Wedded Bliss, offered by her current handsome prince.

This particular princess was, for a variety of reasons, not terribly well connected with her internal self, and was inclined to ignore her self's inner urgings. This was due to a number of occurrences in her childhood, some traumatic, most simply unfortunate.

When other girls her age drew pictures of horses (an expression, we're told, of the natural development of their growing but, as yet, immature sexual yearnings), she drew pictures of other girls. Sometimes the pictures were mildly naughty, showing the other girls in scanty belly-dance costumes. Sometimes, the girls were naked. The pictures were curiously non-sexual, though, as the princess was still unawakened. They were most often just depictions of girls in foreign, fancy costumes.

There were other subtle inner urgings...like the time her best girlfriend kissed her while they were acting out the romantic movie they had just seen. Her lips were soft and cool - much nicer than the slightly hot and rubbery lips of the boy who had kissed her while they were re-building the not-so-secret kids' fort together.

The princess, however, ignored the urgings, and had stayed safe in her tower, sleep-walking through her days and dreaming of the handsome prince who would someday storm her tower.

When the day finally arrived, the princess dutifully married the handsome prince, because that was what was expected of her. She dutifully put away her girlish dreams and left her home and family to be with her handsome prince, because that was what was expected of her. She dutifully, and ruthlessly, silenced any inner urgings that seemed to be at odds with her new fairy tale.

She dutifully, and joyfully, produced a son. She became an excellent cook, baker, and seamstress. She excelled at decorative crafts and home-management. She joined women's organizations, auxiliary to the clubs and groups her husband joined. All seemed right in her new castle.

...but something was missing...

Even after her new castle came crashing down around her ears - Well, really! How dared she think she deserved to leave her prince's kingdom to seek a higher education - weren't his opinions good enough for her? - the princess did not awaken. To be sure, she matured to the new, harsh exigencies of providing for herself, but she still did not connect with that, by now very small inner voice.

Many years and many relationships later - all with men...our girl was nothing, if not an optimist - the princess met "her".

Quite by chance, if there is really ever "chance" in this kind of tale, she encountered a striking woman. This woman was different from any the princess had known before. The woman reminded her of others she had met, but what set this woman apart was that she not only became a friend, she finally declared that she had feelings for the princess...feelings that went far beyond friendship.

The princess was flattered, but assured the woman that they could never be more that friends, because she did not share the woman's feelings.

Silly princess.

As their friendship deepened, the princess began to question what she had always believed about herself. She began to wonder why what the woman was offering was so different from what every man who had been in her life had offered.

Finally, on a sultry evening in July, on the celebration of the anniversary of her country's birth, the princess accepted the woman's affection. There were more fireworks than those just in the sky that night.

Afterward, as the princess thought about her experience, all the ideas and inner urgings came rushing back to her. The inner voice spoke clearly for the first time, and she was able to understand the feelings and events of her childhood in a new, truer perspective. Her world felt suddenly aligned, and she, at peace with it and with herself for the first time since childhood.

Truly, Rapunzel had let down her hair, and the Sleeping Beauty was awakened.

The princess, now truly a whole woman, was a bit hesitant to inform her family of her miraculous awakening. Strengthened by the support of her new partner, though, she bravely contacted each in turn. They variously smiled and said, "Oh good - you're finally out...I mean, you are out, aren't you?" and, "Well, we wondered...", and "If I have ever said anything that kept you in the closet, I am sorry."

So, you see, my children, "fairy" tales, too, can have happy endings. The princess discovered new happiness and joy in her newly renovated, "walk-out" closet. She discovered new ways of thinking and being, and found many new friends at the end of the rainbow banner.

The princess's story is not over yet, though, and there is more heart-ache in store. For now, though, we will leave the newly-wakened ,princess to revel in her new-minted self, and new-found love.