by Pam Grier
It’s not as if I went up to each woman and said, “Hi there, my name is Pam. What kind of a lesbian are you?” Instead, I looked at them all as human beings. Then, when we got to know each other and they felt they could trust me, they slowly revealed their identities. I was surprised to find out how changeable they were. A woman could act out the male dominant role in one relationship, and in the next, she might be with someone who was dominant over her. The bottom line was that everyone shifted and changed and no one was generic. That understanding gave me an opportunity to look at each person as an individual, no matter her sexual preference.
I swiftly became more connected to the women I was working with than I expected. Like most other minority groups, these women were being denied their rights to marriage and inheritance because they were different. Some of them didn’t care because they didn’t want marriage. But for those who considered the marriage ceremony to be sacred, it was disappointing to be denied the right to validate that commitment in front of God and their friends and family. In some cases, it was dangerous to come out at all. They might lose their jobs or be ostracized by people who were prejudiced against them.
It was sad to see fabulous, talented women being forced to live secret lives. There were plenty of gay men doing the same thing—staying in the closet, getting married to women, and having children for appearance’s sake. It’s one thing to be black because you can’t hide your race—everyone knows it the minute they see you. But hiding your sexual preference is another story altogether. From what I saw, being gay was a biological distinction, and women had the right to be with anyone they chose. There are cases, I learned, when women who had been abused by men chose to be with women out of fear. But mostly it seemed to be something innate that attracted women to each other.
Lance, the man from the plane, actually called me, and we started to date casually. The first time we saw each other again was in Denver, and he barely recognized me without my blonde hair extensions. He must have been satisfied with the “real” me, because he came with me to Vancouver when we shot the pilot for The L Word. He loved the concept of the show and the openness of the discussions. I was impressed by his support for a show that was so daring and groundbreaking.
A senior executive at his company for close to twenty years, Lance had a charming way about him, and everyone who met him liked him immediately. He was complementary to me, clearly pleased that I was not a flashy star with a huge ego who threw money around. I’d had enough of that with other boyfriends, and from what I could see, Lance was their opposite, smart and unobtrusive. Together, we were calm and peaceful, which created a perfect balance for my life, which was generally chaotic and very demanding. I remember one of our very early conversations when he told me he had a passion for women of color.
“Well, I need to know if you can see me as your partner,” I told him. “We can be great companions and lovers, but I need to know up front if you see me as your potential wife. I want us to take care of one another. Do you see me that way, or am I just a sexual fetish? Either way it’s okay, but I need to know.”
He assured me about his intentions, and his love letters certainly reflected that. They were richer and fuller than any I’d ever gotten from a man, and I was falling in love with him. But there was something else I needed to know. I’d noticed that men generally treated their women like their fathers treated their mothers. I needed to look into Lance’s family dynamics, because I didn’t want my feelings crushed. I was tired of having to slap guys upside the head (just a metaphor!) when they acted disrespectfully toward me. So far, Lance was making a terrific impression, and I looked forward to meeting his family.
I only hoped they were as inclusive as Lance was. He seemed so open to the stories I told him about my family. One day, he was stunned to find out that my family and I had camped out all through my childhood.
“I never knew you liked to camp,” he said.
“I’ll send you a picture of my family camping in pitched tents by a river with our dogs, our mountain bikes, and a canoe.”
He believed in inclusion and was interested in educating others who did not. I had finally met a partner with the potential for a long, fruitful relationship.
Ilene Chaiken, a true pioneer, had spent years trying to get the series on the air. Showtime had already created a successful series called Queer as Folk, about the male homosexual community. It was now time for the distaff side of the homosexual world to express itself in a series as a contemporary group of women living in West Hollywood who were relatable to the current general public. Talk show hosts Rosie and Ellen were preparing the way, and now the political voice of gay women was making itself heard.
As one of the straight women in the cast, I saw an opportunity to bridge a sociopolitical gap between women’s gay and straight worlds. I felt that women’s rights could be better recognized if all women, straight and gay, united in their common issues, such as raising their children, women’s protections, corporate glass ceilings, and demanding equal pay. So far, we had been divided, and as a result we were losing ground socially. I wanted to be an influence to further the unification that already had begun.
There’s nothing better than working with a great TV ensemble, with a group of actors who are all taking care of each other. I had strong support from the other cast members, particularly while my grandmother was dying. When I had to fly back and forth from Vancouver to Denver, the other women helped me by picking me up emotionally. When they had issues, I became keeper of their secrets, as they would come to me for advice, both emotionally and financially. We turned to each other to make sure we looked right, and we always told each other the truth.
“Do you like the way they did my hair today?”
“Mmm, not really.”
We could be that honest with one another. We checked our egos at the door and we all pulled our own weight. That was so necessary because shooting an entire show on location in a different country was stressful. We needed to make the new place feel like home while we maintained our permanent residences in the United States. We also had to find a way to stay true to our life philosophies and our integrity as we struggled against the isolation of working in a foreign country.
In all of these things we turned to each other. We took care of each other’s dogs when we were away, and we protected each other when the show got more popular and started attracting stalkers and paparazzi who did not have our best interests at heart. There was an extreme fascination about the cast. People traveled from all over the world to see lesbians in real life, and the more well known the women became, the more security we needed. We understood the importance of avoiding dangerous situations, because if one cast member had an accident or got ill, the entire production could shut down.
As I studied the character of Kit, my role in the show, I was amazed at how art was imitating life. Refusing to give up her life to a man as her mother had done before her (so did mine), she had pursued her singing career and lost her husband and child in the process. She turned to her sister, Bette, who helped her get sober and start out on a new path. Kit built herself a better life and was supported by her sister’s friends, a group of wonderful, creative, caring women who loved women.
Each day we arrived at the set as early as 5:30 a.m. I had my own large motor home with two bathrooms, a king-size bed, a TV, and places to lounge around in between shoots. I spent most off time in my trailer, rarely watching TV, but rather rehearsing Kit’s dialogue, doing yoga, and working on my own screenplays.
When we shot at Kit’s café, called the Planet, we used one hundred and fifty extras—called “atmosphere”—and tons of air-conditioning to deal with so much body heat. These extras made our job much easier because they were pros and knew how to support the principal actors, never getting in our way and giving us energy to work off of. On many occasions I went over to the extras’ tent, called the holding tent, and thanked them for showing up no matter the weather, keeping their attitudes positive, an
d doing their own hair, makeup, and wardrobe with no complaints.
During the first season, Kit wore a handmade wig we called the Beast. Created by my Denver hairstylist, Carma Davis, and Vancouver stylist Paul Edwards, it was a long, curly afro with blonde streaks and a mind of its own. I had two of them made originally so that if other people’s hair took longer to get ready, I could throw on the Beast and have it camera-ready in five minutes, as opposed to sitting in a chair for at least a half hour. And everyone loved trying on the Beast and having their photographs taken. Some of us even put the damn wig on our dogs, because the Beast was legendary.
As for my character, I related to the bohemian side of Kit, a rock-and-roller, AA enthusiast returning from the ashes of her past. When I was working on my wardrobe, I chose to use a local Vancouver designer, Cynthia Summers. When the show began, our wardrobe was simple and low-key. But the more popular we became, the more the designers wanted to work with us. While I joined forces with Cynthia to create a wardrobe for Kit, I began to enjoy fashion in a whole new way. She was a genius at accessorizing an outfit, and I became meticulous about my accessories and choosing the right jewelry. I also worked with Joanne Fowler, a brilliant makeup artist who found the perfect makeup to enhance my skin tone and the clothing that would best complement my figure. As I studied the designs of Chanel and Valentino, I saw the perfect blends of science and art. I salivated over Louboutin, Prada, and Balenciaga, whose classic footwear and clothing transcended time.
The more I studied the various designers, the more I began to view wardrobe and clothing in general as a celebration of beauty. It felt tribal as we did our hair and dressed in the latest colors and decorations, and we attended various award shows and luncheons in a dress code that spoke of elegance and refinement.
Of all the social gatherings I attended, none represented women better than Oprah Winfrey’s Legends Luncheon, where she honored and celebrated women of color the world over. Cynthia Summers had dressed me in Gucci shoes and an Escada pantsuit in green, a color that complemented Oprah’s and Maya Angleou’s outfits. I couldn’t take my eyes off the celebratory clothing of the likes of Tina Turner, Chaka Khan, Beverly Johnson, Diana Ross, Halle Berry, and Leontyne Price, an African American soprano who broke through the white ceiling in the world of opera. I left the luncheon grateful that I was a part of the significant changes that were swiftly occurring in the world at large.
CHAPTER 38
How I Became a Scandal
Between seeing Lance on my breaks and shooting season after season of The L Word, my life was making sense. I felt a balance for the first time, and I was encouraged that I could have it all—a family, a career, and a continuing curiosity about life that was matched and sparked by a worthy partner. It was so comforting, it was almost too good to be true. But wasn’t it my turn for my dreams to come to fruition?
The work continued to motivate me as I recognized the similarities in the challenges that African American women and lesbians faced on a daily basis. I felt inspired to stand up for them, and they really appreciated it. After all, we were a strange and unusual family, and Jennifer Beals told me I was the sister she never had. Laurel Holloman’s mom was a nurse just like mine, and so was Leisha Hailey’s. Many of us shared common backgrounds, dreams, and goals, mainly because we were all women.
We got so close that we knew who was on their period, who was partying, who could cook, who could shop, and who could put clothes together. It was our private world, and I got to spend time with everyone and find out about their diverse lives and special interests and abilities. Mia Kirshner, who played Jenny, went to Malawi during one of our hiatuses and wrote a book about the abject poverty there. I suspect she was an influence in my decision to write this book, because she took so much care and pride in hers, and the information added a lot to all of our lives. And then Jennifer Beals implored me, short of twisting my arm and wrestling me to the ground, to write my book.
During the six years we worked together, I encouraged Leisha Hailey, who played Alice, to beef up her musical chops. I supported her by attending her concerts, and she was so talented, she came up with a little video of all the girls as they worked hand puppets. We did these kinds of creative games to keep each other’s energy up during long shoots over many years. We knew that we had to focus our energies on the work in front of us, and everyone cooperated beautifully. We avoided creating trouble and left the drama to the scriptwriters. We were all in agreement that we didn’t need the added strain of bad behavior.
One of our best shows occurred when actor Alan Cumming did a guest role with us. His character was an entrepreneur who offered Kit suggestions for her café, and he was hilarious and had impeccable timing. Another amazing coup was when Gloria Steinem did a cameo as the lover of the man who played Bette and Kit’s father, Ossie Davis. Gloria was funny, intelligent, and playful, and we all made sure she had a great time. After all, who had fought more for womanhood in general than Gloria Steinem? I would be remiss not to also mention guest appearances from Anne Archer, Rosanna Arquette, Kelly McGillis, the B52s, Goldfrapp, Elizabeth Berkley, Camryn Manheim, Paris Hilton, Eric Roberts, Eric Handler, Charles Dutton, Snoop Dogg, and Kelly Lynch.
In fact, I thought our regular cast were some of the more talented actresses I’d ever worked with. And still, the show got absolutely no nominations during its run, besides mentions from the NAACP and the GLAAD awards. Could it be that the press did us no favors, since some of the women should have been recognized for their work? In the end, many great performances were overlooked, but the impact of the show speaks for itself.
I have to say, I have never worked so hard for such an extended period of years. I was disciplined, so I didn’t get sleep deprived, but I was exhausted a lot of the time. I learned to take power naps on the set, and on my days off I rode horses to unwind and stay fit, both mentally and physically. I often got up at 4:30 a.m. so I could get in a workout. Then I headed to the set for breakfast with the cast and crew. This was a welcome ritual where we women and the production staff reveled in a sense of family and enjoyed the camaraderie and support of one another.
Then it was time for hair and makeup as I rehearsed my lines for the day. I had fewer lines than some of the other women, but I didn’t mind, because several episodes were dedicated to my character. I simply loved the work, and I also loved the breaks with Lance. He had a home in the country that felt like a different world altogether when he took me there. Lance’s home had a garage that had been a barn for horses, and there were three bedrooms, hardwood floors, and a wood-burning fireplace.
The best part was that Lance was not at all an ostentatious man. I remember how proud he was of me when we first began dating, and his friends and family wanted to know who was making him so happy. But after he took me to my first dinner with his family, it seemed there was trouble in paradise. The intimate dinner at the club was uncomfortable and I did not feel welcome.
Lance was upset. He did not talk with me about it, but I knew something was bothering him, and I pulled the information out of him. Now I began to wonder—was our relationship going to work?
When The L Word went on hiatus over Thanksgiving and Christmas, I asked Lance if I could give a Thanksgiving dinner for his family at his country house. He thought that was a great idea and said he would invite his father, from whom he had been estranged for many years. When I asked him what the problem was, he told me that after his mother had passed away when he was young, his relationship with his dad had never been the same.
“Are you ready to see your dad?” I asked him.
“I really would like to,” he said.
I figured he knew what he was doing, so while Lance and I cleaned the house and got out his finest dishes, I ordered the turkey and began to prepare the trimmings. I’d never seen Lance so excited. He wanted this dinner with his dad and his siblings more than anything, and the preparations were fun and playful.
The day before Thanksgiving, the day his dad was
scheduled to arrive, Lance got a phone call. I watched his face change from anticipatory joy to severe disappointment. “Why not?” I heard him say. “Everything is ready for you.”
He frowned at me, and I took the phone. “Hello, there,” I said to his dad. “I really hope you can make it to dinner. We’ve been cooking for quite a while, and I know Lance is really looking forward to seeing you. And so am I.”
“I’m not coming,” was his reply. He didn’t say why, and he didn’t apologize to me or to Lance. I handed the phone back to Lance.
We had a lovely dinner with Lance’s siblings.
By the time I was ready to go back to work, more changes had occurred in Lance’s life. After being offered a great position in another city, Lance asked me what I thought about this new opportunity—he always consulted me about his changes—and I encouraged him to go for it. He wanted a change, and this looked like it had real possibilities. But soon enough, a load of in-house corporate fighting occurred and it all blew up. As I began to shoot a new season of The L Word, Lance left his job and moved into my home in Colorado. He had no job now, and the first time I ever saw him in jeans and a T-shirt was at my ranch.
With Lance living at the ranch, taking care of things for me, I immersed myself in the work. The L Word’s popularity was growing faster than any of us had imagined, and we held our season premieres in large nightclubs in twenty-five major cities, ranging from New York to San Francisco. They sent one of us to each premiere, and we attracted so many people that it was a common occurrence for the venue to run out of food before the night was over. Thousands of women and a load of curious men watched The L Word in various clubs all over the country, and we were all stunned at how well the show was holding its own.