A Love Letter to Great Lesbian Loves

But love, especially the kind that defies social norms, finds a way to endure. It lingers in ink, in carefully folded pages, in hidden archives waiting to be rediscovered. From Anne Lister's coded diaries to Virginia Woolf's sultry letters to Vita Sackville-West, sapphic love has always found a way, no matter how hard the world has tried to erase, dilute, or silence it.

Today, we recontextualize these stories, honoring the courage and devotion of women who dared to love in the face of societal barriers. We shout loudly for love that was confined to whispers. This is a love letter to the great lesbian loves that shaped history, to the women who risked everything to be together—or at the very least—to tell each other how they felt, and to the historians who have worked tirelessly to make sure these stories are not just told but celebrated.

The marginalization and rediscovery of lesbian loves

For centuries, lesbian relationships were erased from the historical record or relegated to a realm of "unspoken" affection. Many of these love stories existed in quiet spaces, where women expressed their devotion in letters, poetry, and the quietest gestures—only to have them buried or misunderstood by the dominant narrative of their time,  often labeled as "romantic friendships," their passion diminished into something socially acceptable.  

Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West, for example, exchanged letters overflowing with longing and devotion. Their relationship was often framed as a deep friendship rather than the love affair it truly was, despite writing things such as: "Look here Vita—throw over your man, and we'll go to Hampton Court and dine on the river together and walk in the garden in the moonlight and come home late and have a bottle of wine and get tipsy, and I'll tell you all the things I have in my head, millions, myriads."

The repression of lesbian love was not simply a result of personal discretion but of deliberate erasure. Diaries were destroyed, letters burned, and public acknowledgments of these relationships were rewritten as platonic.

It wasn't until the rise of feminist movements and LGBTQ+ rights movements in the mid20th century that these histories began to be revisited. Activists and scholars worked to reframe these narratives as vital parts of history, challenging the erasure of lesbian relationships. As historian Lillian Faderman noted, "Lesbian history has been denied, hidden, and distorted by society. It is only through the efforts of historians and activists that we can begin to rewrite the history of women's love for each other."

This period saw significant milestones, such as the publication of The Woman-Identified Woman Manifesto in 1970, which redefined lesbianism as a political identity and a form of solidarity among women. And the formation of groups like The Furies Collective in Washington, D.C., which provided spaces for lesbian feminists to explore and express their identities.

These efforts were part of a broader movement to challenge societal norms and affirm the existence and significance of lesbian love throughout history.

Love in different eras, diversity in love

There is a rich diversity in the love stories that historians have uncovered about women loving women. Stories that span continents, centuries, and cultures.

Women have loved each other in every time period, from the quiet but very gay correspondence of Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok to the impassioned letters Emily Dickinson wrote for her "Only Woman in the World," Susan Gilbert. Each relationship, shaped by its era's cultural norms and societal pressures, tells a story of resilience and passion, longing and heart ache, adoration and hope.

Eleanor Roosevelt & Lorena Hickok

Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok’s relationship is now recognized as a significant part of history. Their once-private letters reveal a love that was both deep and passionate. In one, Roosevelt wrote, “Oh! I want to put my arms around you. I ache to hold you close.” Their bond, both emotional and physical, lasted for decades, defying the constraints of their time.

Frida Kahlo & Georgia O'Keeffe

When Frida Kahlo met Georgia O'Keeffe in the early 1930s, the two women immediately shared a deep connection. Kahlo, who was often overshadowed by her famous husband, Diego Rivera, saw in O'Keeffe someone equally bold and visionary, striving for recognition as an artist. Rivera, amusingly, wasn't upset by his wife's flirting with O'Keeffe.

Their relationship deepened over time, and in 1933, when O'Keeffe was hospitalized following a nervous breakdown, Kahlo wrote a heartfelt letter, preserved at Yale's Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library: "I thought of you a lot and never forget your wonderful hands and the color of your eyes." She continued, "If you are still in the hospital when I come back, I will bring you flowers, but it is so difficult to find the ones I would like for you. I would be so happy if you could write me even two words. I like you very much, Georgia." These tender words hint at a relationship that was both emotionally and artistically intimate.

Anne Lister & Ann Walker

Often referred to as the first modern lesbian, Anne Lister left behind a treasure trove of coded diaries that documented her love life with women. Her love for Ann Walker, which was the subject of the series Gentleman Jack, was a bold declaration in a time when such feelings were meant to be hidden. Lister wrote, "I love and only love the fairer sex and thus, beloved by them in turn, my heart revolts from any other love than theirs." Her diaries, once sealed away, have become an invaluable historical resource, offering a glimpse into a woman who lived unapologetically.

Margaret Mead & Ruth Benedict

Anthropologists Margaret Mead and Ruth Benedict shared not only a professional partnership but also a deep emotional connection. Mead, in one of her letters to Benedict, wrote, "Whenever I am weary and sick with longing for you, I can always go back and recapture that afternoon out at Bedford Hills this spring, when your kisses were rained down on my face, and that memory ends always in peace, beloved." Their love was intertwined with their work and their groundbreaking contributions to understanding culture and gender.

Emily Dickinson & Susan Gilbert

Emily Dickinson and Susan Gilbert held far more than friendship—it was a lifelong, all-consuming love. Emily’s letters to Susan overflow with longing, devotion, and an intensity that shaped both her life and her poetry. "I need her—I must have her, Oh give her to me!" she wrote, her words brimming with desperation and desire.

Even when she feared her feelings might not be fully returned, Emily remained unwavering. "When you come home, darling, I shan't have your letters, shall I, but I shall have yourself, which is more—Oh more, and better, than I can even think!" Their connection endured through distance and time, leaving an undeniable imprint on Dickinson’s work—and her heart.

Guardians of history, methodologies and challenges—The contribution of historians and biographers

Uncovering the true stories of lesbian and queer relationships has never been simple. Letters were burned, archives sealed, and history rewritten to erase or downplay the love between women. Families, eager to "protect reputations," recast deep, passionate bonds as mere friendship. But despite these efforts to silence the past, historians and biographers have fought to uncover these stories, and tell them truthfully.

Historians like Blanche Wiesen Cook helped reveal the depth of Eleanor Roosevelt's love for Lorena Hickok, while writers such as Emma Donoghue bring to life the realities of queer relationships through historical fiction. Her latest work, Learned by Heart, tells the evocative tale of the real-life romance between diarist Anne Lister and her first girlfriend, Eliza Raine. Donoghue credits the historians who meticulously studied Lister's diaries—written in challenging handwriting with coded sections—and says, "I'm so grateful to the handful of historians who have gone into this huge archive of Anne Lister's diaries. Without that body of work, this novel wouldn't exist."

The meaning of "lesbian" itself has evolved over time, and in the early 20th century, historians began to revisit historic relationships between women, questioning what truly constitutes a lesbian relationship. As lesbian feminists asserted, a sexual component was not always necessary to declare oneself a lesbian if a woman's closest and most significant relationships were with other women. It was important to consider these relationships within their historical context, where, at times, love and sex were viewed as separate or unrelated concepts.

The Lesbian History Group articulated this challenge in 1989, writing: "Because of society's reluctance to admit that lesbians exist, a high degree of certainty is expected before historians or biographers are allowed to use the label. Evidence that would suffice in any other situation is inadequate here... A woman who never married, who lived with another woman, whose friends were mostly women, or who moved in known lesbian or mixed gay circles, may well have been a lesbian... But this sort of evidence is not 'proof'. What our critics want is incontrovertible evidence of sexual activity between women. This is almost impossible to find."

Historians have worked hard to reclaim and affirm these relationships, especially when many texts and records about female sexuality have been written through a male lens, often neglecting or misrepresenting women's experiences. Lillian Faderman has long emphasized that "lesbian history has been denied, hidden, and distorted by society. It is only through the efforts of historians and activists that we can begin to rewrite the history of women's love for each other."

Lizzie Ehrenhalt, a public historian, explains how even small actions can erase queer and trans history: "Omitting a sentence from a book or an exhibit can have big results, amplifying silences and widening gaps in public understanding."

One of the most significant rediscoveries was the love letters between Rose Cleveland and Evangeline Simpson, which had been locked away at the Minnesota Historical Society. In 1969, archivists, alarmed by the explicit nature of the letters, sealed them off from public access. But in 1978, historian Jonathan Ned Katz learned about them and was able to intervene, finally unsealing the letters. The love between Rose and Evangeline, once hidden, became undeniable. Their letters spanning decades of separation, societal pressure, and even Evangeline's marriage to a man, revealed some of the most explicit expressions of same-sex desire from the Victorian period.

Ehrenhalt, who later co-edited Precious and Adored: The Love Letters of Rose Cleveland and Evangeline Simpson Whipple, 1890-1918, reflects on the importance of uncovering these letters: "What do we lose when letters like Rose and Evangeline's are kept from the public, even temporarily? A moving human story, for sure. Validation of queer experiences, definitely. But when you multiply this one relatively minor absence across all of the archives and libraries that have restricted 'controversial' content, you also lose the totality of queer history."

The modern impact of recontextualized Histories

Reclaiming these love stories isn't just about the past—it actively shapes the present. When queer love stories from history are acknowledged, they validate the experiences of LGBTQ+ people today and help normalize different sexualities and identities, allowing more people to feel seen, heard, valued, and accepted.

One of the most striking examples of historical recontextualization shaping modern LGBTQ+ visibility is Gentleman Jack, the BBC and HBO series that brought the story of Anne Lister—who lived boldly in her lesbian identity—into mainstream consciousness. Lister, a 19th-century landowner and diarist, meticulously recorded her relationships with women, encrypting her writings to keep them secret. 

Deciphered in the 1980s they offered an unprecedented glimpse into lesbian life in the early 1800s. The show's success not only brought Lister's story to mainstream audiences but also reshaped public discourse on historical queer figures. It has inspired pilgrimages to her estate, Shibden Hall, York Minister, and has even been credited with an increase in lesbian visibility and historical tourism in Halifax, England. The Anne Lister Birthday Week festival now attracts global visitors, proving how history, when reclaimed, can have an enduring cultural impact.

Similarly, the renewed examination of Emily Dickinson's letters to Susan Gilbert Dickinson has challenged traditional portrayals of the poet as a ”reclusive spinster.” Many of her letters to Susan contain unmistakable passion, suggesting a love that was romantic, not merely platonic. In one letter, Dickinson writes: "Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me as you used to?"

For years, these letters were dismissed as flowery expressions of close friendship. However, modern scholarship has reevaluated them in light of Dickinson's work and life, emphasizing the probability of a deeply personal and romantic relationship with Susan. Apple TV’s Dickinson leans into a long-overlooked truth: Susan wasn’t just a passing figure in Emily’s life—she was her great love. 

These kinds of portrayals help correct the historical record, showing that queer love has always existed. It wasn’t absent; it was just hidden, written between the lines, waiting to be recognized.

Beyond media representation, uncovering these histories matters in real, tangible ways. It proves that LGBTQ+ people have always been here, pushing back against the idea that queer identities are new or a modern invention. This knowledge fuels activism, strengthens calls for inclusive education, and shapes school curriculums that finally acknowledge LGBTQ+ history. Organizations like the Anne Lister Research Summit and efforts to digitize Emily Dickinson’s letters make these stories more accessible—not just for scholars but for anyone seeking to see themselves reflected in history. Bringing these love stories into the open changes how we see the past and how we shape the future. 

A letter to the great loves

To the women who loved in secret, who wrote their devotion in ink and hid it in drawers. To the hands that trembled as they sealed letters, to the hearts that beat wildly upon reading them. To those who defied silence with poetry, with touch, with unshakable devotion. We see you. We hear you. We value, and thank you. 

Tips for writing love letters

Writing a love letter can feel intimidating, but it doesn't have to be perfect. Whether you're pouring your heart out or just sharing a moment, a good love letter is all about connection. If you want to write something that truly resonates, here are five tips inspired by some iconic lesbian love letters throughout history.

Be honest

The best love letters come from the heart, so don't overthink it. Just be honest and open, and write what you feel. Tove Jansson, the Finnish artist who created Moomins, was the queen of honest love letters to her life partner, Tuulikki "Tooti" Pietilä, and the pair stayed together for fifty years until death parted them.

She wrote: "Beloved, I miss you so dreadfully. Not in a desperate or melancholy way, because I know we shall soon be with each other again, but I feel at such a loss and just can't get it into my head that you're not around any more. This morning, half awake, I put a hand out to feel for you, then remembered you weren't there, so I got up very quickly to escape the emptiness. And worked all day."

Be vulnerable

Love letters are about opening up. When Vita Sackville-West wrote to Virginia Woolf, she didn't hide her emotions, saying, "I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia... I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way." She let her vulnerability show, and that's what made the letter powerful. 

Don't hold back. If you're feeling unsure or a little fragile, put that on paper. The more real you are, the more your partner will feel your connection.

Don't hold back

It's not enough to say "I love you"—show why you love them. Emily Dickinson perfectly captured this by recalling a specific moment: "when love first began, on the step at the front door, and under the Evergreens." 

Pick a moment that sticks with you—whether it's a quiet moment or a big event—and describe it. It'll make your letter feel like a snapshot of your love story.

Write how you speak

A love letter doesn't need to be perfect. Gertrude Stein's letters to Alice B. Toklas were often simple and conversational: "Because I didn't say goodnight – and I miss it so – please know how much I love you."

No need for grand speeches—just write like you're talking to them, with all the little quirks and imperfections. It's the most natural way to let your love shine through.

Don't be afraid to mention sex

Sex is part of many relationships, so don't be afraid to express that aspect of your love. Gertrude Stein was playful with her passion, and was known for referring to orgasms as "making a cow come out." She writes to Alice: "My baby precious, you feel all treated, treated to have a complete and an entire cow, yes sweeties you will bless you I am so full of tenderness and delight in my blessed wifie that it must overflow in a cow out of she, there is no other was to be, oh my blessedI love you so I love you so from top to toe, blessed baby." 

If intimacy is part of your relationship, feel free to mention it. It doesn't have to be explicit, but expressing your physical connection can make the letter feel even more intimate.

Love letters aren’t just words on a page—they’re proof that love existed, in many forms, throughout history. They remind us that women have loved women—passionately, deeply, and without apology—for as long as there has been love to give. Reclaiming these stories isn’t just about remembering the past; it’s about making space for love now. It’s about seeing ourselves in history and knowing that our feelings, our connections, and our identities have always been part of what it means to be human.

And as we honor these love stories, we continue writing our own.Whether you're newly out, dating as someone who is yet to come out, or still figuring out who and what you like—Feeld is a place for connection, acceptance, and celebrating love in all its forms.