Bette Porter is my hero. Take that with a grain of salt if you must, for not everything I say should be taken seriously — or should it? Beneath the satirical facade I always try to put up, those who truly know me, may very well scoff at this sad attempt at masking true emotions — just as I always have. Because anything that comes out of my potty mouth always bears some weight of the truth, albeit often wrapped in sarcasm or perceived indifference.
Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
Mistakes were part and parcel of Bette Porter‘s existence, as they were/are in mine, and often with uncanny similarities I cannot divulge. She may be a fictional character, but through her, I felt my everyday struggles were given validity — that they weren’t just shallow trivialities of lesbian existence.
I’m just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth
Like most fictional protagonists, Bette and Tina’s story was prettily summed up in a happy ending. And as much as I wish all stories could end up like that, the truth is, they rarely don’t. Because most real life relationships end up way past the breaking point, beyond repair, where a resolution just isn’t possible anymore. But underneath all this, is an unspoken truth, a lesson which tells us that we’re not just pawns in the game of life. We can take control if and when we wish to, but vulnerability is an essential part of the process. This is why Bette Porter is my hero. She’s fiction, but at the same time, she’s as real as can be, because she showed me that even strong women can and will feel pain.
She taught me that women, no matter how tough, still need to have a good cry every now and then before they can pick themselves up again.