What Is A Romantic Friendship Anyway?
Before I discuss the last name on the list of “girls,” I want to clarify a few things.
Today, we look at relationships between women through the eyes of sex, and the plain fact is that you cannot judge someone born before the end of the Victorian era in 1901 with the moraes of the 21st century. You can’t even do it at the end of the 20th century. The way Victorian parents raised young women bears little resemblance to those of us raised by either “The Greatest Generation” or “Baby Boomers.” The Victorians looked at things in a manner that we just aren’t used to. While we are tempted to think of Victorian morals as being antiquated, the twist or spin that the Victorians put on their view of sexuality rivals the spin that issues forth daily from the halls of government. That said, you didn’t see what you thought you saw; you saw what I wanted you to see. It is fine if they love each other because they are just women.
Here begins the story of “Romantic Friendship.” In her book “Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers,” Lillian Faderman begins chapter one with this statement by Frances Willard: “The love of women for each other grows more numerous each day, and I have pondered much on why these things were. That so little should be said about them surprises me, for they are everywhere… In these days when any capable and careful woman can honorably earn her own support, there is no village that has not its examples of two hearts in counsel, both of which are feminine.”
Middle-class women in the early 20th century were raised in an environment where love between young women was considered normal and viewed as preparation for marriage. It was “ a rehearsal in girlhood of the great drama of a woman's life,” where love for one another was thought to constitute the richness, consolation, and joy of their lives.” In this environment, which I must add falls squarely in the middle of both Molly and Agnes’ lives, it was envisioned as “romantic friendship.” Sex was rarely, if ever, involved; it was about the deep emotional attachment of one young woman to another. It was believed that these relationships freed females from the necessity of marriage and allowed them a certain level of independence. This, of course, led men who were Sexologists and/or psychiatrists to begin to poison the well, calling the relationships unnatural. When Agnes did her interview with Boze Hadleigh in 1973, she explained her relationships with other women as deep emotional attachments that were beautiful and even spiritual. Voila, this is the very definition of a romantic friendship.
Every woman that Agnes attached herself to emotionally was precisely this kind of relationship. That doesn’t mean that sex didn’t enter into it. This means that there was a considerable chance that it wouldn’t happen. If I had to predict which relationships it did enter into physicality, I would point to the two where no communication between Agnes and the two women, Peg and Alice, doesn’t survive. But that being said, it doesn’t mean that sex ever entered into it where Agnes was concerned either. I believe her avoidance of sex with either men or women had more to do with her father being a minister than anything else. Think about her mother and her companion, Grace. The two women lived together for twenty-seven years. Agnes followed in her footsteps, attaching herself to various women. Sex wasn’t part of the plan for either Agnes or Molly. It was companionship and emotional fulfillment that drew them to these relationships. This doesn’t mean no kissing or hand-holding happened; I’m sure it did, at least with Agnes. Molly is a whole different animal.
Agnes saw marriage as a responsibility, not a bond between man and woman. The responsibility thrust upon her by the untimely demise of her sister. I’d bet cash that Agnes would never have married if Peggy had not died. I believe that was always to have been her sister's role, but when tragedy steps in and takes her sister, it becomes Agnes’ role. Agnes had men in her life, to be sure. In her postmortem letter to her sister, she admits in a Victorian manner that she had loved a man like Peggy did. His name was Fred Halverson, and she further instructed her sister to ask him because he’d verify it. Conveniently, Fred was dead and available to Peggy for queries since they were both now in heaven. Agnes dated young men in college. I know of at least two, and she was married twice. But in her view, marriage was a responsibility, and love had no place in it. At least not in the way we think of it today. Her emotional capacity was dedicated primarily to the women she collected. The legend of her argument with Robert over his infidelity was accurate. “If you can have a mistress, so can I.” I believe she was referring to Alice MacKenzie, and I know his mistress was Jacqueline Mickles.
In any case, we cannot judge Agnes according to today’s standards. We must incorporate the idea of romantic, feminine friendships. To leave the idea out is to create division. I say this because there are folks who just won’t accept that Agnes loved women because their brains go first to the bedroom, second to her marriages, and third to her religion. Romantic friendship erases all of these and allows us to see her through the eyes of her upbringing and the ideals of the early twentieth century that incorporated the idea of friendship with the idea of romance. There need not be an argument about her physical sexuality, but to understand the woman completely, you must understand her heart. Her body belonged to a man, but her deep love for another human being was directed solely toward the woman in her life. She admits to Boze Hadleigh that she had “loved” women in ways that were soul to soul and that my friend is a romantic friendship.
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