lb_lee | "Kiki", by Anonymous, 1947

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Mori: Blessings on whoever scanned a 1947 copy of the lesbian magazine Vice Versa #7 online; it meant I was able to read this fun little short story about a woman who oh noes, is torn between Pat, the butchest of butches, and Flora the femmest of femmes! Whatever is a poor Kiki to do?

Thought other folks might enjoy this. So here ya go! (Sorry, don't think it's screenreadable; I can textually transcribe it if folks want? EDIT from Sneak:

pantha did it! Thanks! :D)

(I of course only found out about this thing courtesy of a bibliography of queer speculative fiction at the sci-fi library. WE'RE BACK, BABY!)

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From:

pantha

KIKI

Note: any similarity to persons either sad or gay is strictly confidential.

~~~

The Cosmic Registrar chuckled the day Kiki was born. The Book of Time lay wide open before his x-ray eyes, and he could look into the future, see Kiki as a grown – girl. Kiki’s parents gave her that odd name because when their little bundle of joy came into the world Mary Pickford (America’s Sweetheart) was then starring on the screen in a hit called “Kiki”, and Mr and Mrs MacFarland fondly hoped that their little daughter would grow up to have many sweethearts.

She did.

She had too many sweethearts, and that was the problem that was perplexing Kiki right now. Boys held no attraction for her. She had realised that since she was 13 and had fallen in love with Manuela, who in turn was in love with her teacher in the film, “Maedchen in Uniform”.

Then, when she was 16, Kiki had met Pat. Pat had made her heart go like that: Pat-pat-pitter-pat. Kiki had heard her name in the rain on her window pane, that melancholy afternoon she had sat weeping because her parents were sending her off to a college and Pat was staying behind. Tall, raw-boned, masterful Pat – a Gary Cooper in feminine forme – whose hard lips crushed on hers and brought the blood to her heart in a rush that threatened to burst it.

Kiki sat morosely in the observation car of the train, and watched the wicked rails clicking off the miles behind her, and sullenly hated them for their callousness, for they would not keep quiet, they kept clacking “Pat… Pat… Pattity-Patt… Pat… Pat… Pat…”

But at college Kiki experienced a different emotion when she met Flora. Everything about Flora was flower-like, from the botany in which she was majoring to the prints of her dresses, the carnation she always wore in her flaxen hair. With Pat, Kiki had been a clinging vine. Flora made her feel differently, herself masterful. Kiki bewildered herself. She had known of her nature for four years now, but at first she had believed herself to be a fluff. Now she felt she was a butch. She did not know that Fate had named her for what she was: Kiki – the kind of Radclyffe girl with a dual nature; now masculine, now feminine.

Flora fascinated Kiki like a tiny humming bird. Kiki admitted to herself that she was infatuated with Flora. And Flora responded to her ministrations. Like a carefully cultivated American Beauty rose, she blossomed forth with Kiki’s attention: Fragile, perfumed, and – thornless. Kiki was superbly happy in her romance with Flora until one day a letter came for her, a letter in a familiar bold backhand script that took her back to nights parked on Hollywood heights, the feel of a starched shirt pressed against her thin dress, possessive hands clasped on her shoulders, hard white teeth grating against her own in cohesive moments of overpowering desire. A letter from Pat! Pat was coming to visit her over the Xmas holidays!

Nature stretched Kiki on her rack and tortured her more exquisitely in the ensuing 3 days than many a witch in the agonizing era of the inquisition. Night and day, there was no surcease for Kiki: Her innermost being was assaulted by forces beyond her control, she fought a losing battle of indecision, of turmoil, terror and trepidation.

She felt weak and watery and very, very fluff when she thought of rough, domineering Pat.

She felt very competent, commanding herself, when she contemplated that dear little elf, that sprite, that fey forest-baby, Flora, who basked in her protective embrace.

Perhaps she merely meant to drug herself into the sleep she desperately needed, to escape for a few blessed hours of relief from the insoluble problem which preyed upon her mind and loosed a migraine monster there to trample with spiked boots over her naked, quivering brain. Or maybe subconsciously the death-impulse in her mastered her personality. At any rate, Kiki took too many sleeping tablets.

The Cosmic Registrar had not thought about Kiki for quite some time. He was idly flipping through his book of births and destinies – Kathryn MacFarland – Katrina MacFarland – Kenneth MacFarland – when the name Kiki MacFarland was forceably drawn to his attention by the red star opposite it. This indicated a crisis in her life. Adjusting his telescopic eye and tuning his mentality for the wave-band of planet Earth, he projected his vision and mind into the room where Kiki lay unconscious. Death, in his black shroud, stood at her door, about to pass through.

But the end was not yet for Kiki. The red-for-danger disappeared from the Registrar’s book, being replaced by a peaceful safe green, as Death was brushed aside from Kiki’s door by Life, Life in the person of Nurse Edwina Kincaid, hastily summoned by an alarmed Flora. The Cosmic Registrar focused his power of clairvoyance on the near future, and was mildly puzzled by what he saw there. Curious, he checked the record on Edwina Kincaid.

“Ah,” the Registrar nodded in understanding. It would be a happy Xmas for Kiki. Santa had sent her a real present, the solution to her dilemma. Some of Edwina’s friends – and Kiki was destined to become the most intimate of them – called her “Eddie”. Nurse Kincaid was a “kiki” too.

~~~

Your editor is particularly anxious to know your reaction to the foregoing story. Would you have suspected it was written by a man? It was – by my jam friend of nearly ten years’ acquaintance, whom I have mentioned to some of you, and whom some of you have met. He is sympathetically interested in us, and is contemplating writing a gay novel some day, using Vice Versa in the meantime as a medium of literary expression.

Incidentally, for those of you who were wondering about the fate of Pat and Flora – the butch and the fluff of this story, they author tells me that they got together, too, and lived gayly ever after.

From:

lb_lee

Sneak: Yay, thank you! I've added this to the index at

transcribedcomicszines!

From:

ghost_ship

That's weird, I don't remember being in a lesbian love triangle? I seriously had to do a double take when I first saw the post lol

Anyways, this was a fun read, thanks for sharing~

-Kiki

From:

acorn_squash

This is delightful; thanks for sharing! So much good vintage queer slang: "kiki," "fluff," "Radclyffe girl," "jam."

Highlights from the other issues:

Issue 3: "The Sisterhood may have no badge, its members are unknown/And only Fate determines if we meet or walk alone." (Lisa Ben, "Frustration")

Issue 4: "It is not an uncommon sight to observe mannishly attired women, or even those dressed in more feminine garb, strolling along the street hand in hand, or even arm in arm, in an attitude which certainly would seem to indicate far more than mere friendliness. And bright colored shirts, chain bracelets, loud socks and ornate sandals are increasingly in evidence on many of the fellows passing by. The war had a great deal to do with influencing the male to wear jewellery, I believe, with the introduction of dog tags, identification bracelets, etc. Whether the war, by automatically causing segregation of men from female company for long periods of time, has influenced fellows to become more aware of their own kind, is a moot question." (Lisa Ben, "Here to Stay")

"Obviously, Les thought Lou was another fellow, especially since she had purposely signed her name 'Lew'—the masculine spelling—when writing the brief note which accompanied the watch on its homeward journey." (Lisa Ben, "What's in a Name?")

“Ed mentioned you once in a long-distance phone conversation to the family before he went overseas. And since you signed your name ‘Lew’ in your letter, I thought your name was ‘Llewellyn.’ I never dreamed it would be the feminine ‘Lou Ellen,’ though they both sound the same.” (Lisa Ben, "What's in a Name?")

Issue 8: "She regarded him with mild reproof. 'What kind of a girl do you think I am? I don’t dance with men!' Then she looked at him a bit more kindly. 'I’m not quite so narrow minded as my friends here, though. I can understand your inclinations, although I don’t approve of them. I think there are a few places on the other side of town which still permit—uh—' she wrinkled her delicate nose in obvious distaste, 'dancing with the opposite sex. But it just isn’t done here.'" (Lisa Ben, "New Year's Revolution: A Satire")

(Content warnings for "New Year's Revolution": Homophobia, assault, police violence, references to conversion therapy.)

Issue 9: "Homosexuality is just as common, if not more so, among women than men, according to Magazine Digest’s article. Data collected by Dr. Katharine David on 2200 women college graduates showed that twenty-six percent were so inclined." (Lisa Ben, "Commentary Upon a Pertinent Article")

Edited (typo) Date: 2025-06-20 05:35 am (UTC)