Staying ahead of the Curve

If you were coming out as a lesbian in the early 1990s it was both a scary and exciting time. Chances are you couldn’t wait to pick up a copy of Curve, The Lesbian Magazine formerly Deneuve magazine). Whether you stumbled upon it in your favorite bookstore or coffee shop, or were a subscriber, you were part of the living history that shaped Curve. Founded by Frances “Franco” Stevens, Curve was a glossy, slick “go to” publication for lesbians during that time.

Through my conversation with Stevens, we quickly connected through her love of horse racing and her New Jersey roots. Her father was from Jersey City, and she grew up going to the racetrack in Atlantic City with her father and grandfather, learning early how to bet on the horses. After all, her grandfather was a bookie back in the day. She recalls having missed school on more than one occasion for a “doctor’s appointment” so she could join her father at the track. When her father passed, as a tribute to their father she and her brother left a pair of shoes on the beach in Atlantic City.

When asked about how she started Curve, Stevens said she had recently just come out and she wanted a resource, a guide on how to be a lesbian. While working at A Different Light bookstore in the Castro district in San Francisco, she realized that nothing like that existed. Back in the early ‘80s other women were also coming into the bookstore looking for the same thing. She then realized, “Oh, it’s me, I’m supposed to be doing this.”

She then took the next step and put up a sign in the bookstore calling for writers and photographers to work on the magazine. She received at least 300 calls the first month so she knew people were anxious to have this positive portrayal of gay women. There was no shortage of help, Stevens states. “If we needed an editor, one would show up.” The people were eager to work with her. And back then, she stated, even The Advocate didn’t have the word “lesbian” on the cover.

She was 22 when she got the idea for the magazine, and she was 23 when the first issue was released. Ronald Reagan was in office, the economy was poor, interest rates were high, and magazines were not flourishing, and it was before the dot-com boom.

Her biggest challenge was to come up with the money to start the magazine. Her initial quest was to go to banks and rich women (and back then that meant people with a job), only to be turned away. A lot was going on against her and putting the word “lesbian” on the front cover was very controversial in the early ‘90s, not to mention the backlash the gay and lesbian community was facing, deep into the HIV/AIDS crisis.

So, she did the only other thing she could think of — and that was to cash out her credit cards and head to the horse races. She reflected, race after race, that she had never been that lucky even though she had some institutional knowledge of horse racing thanks to her father. “It was crazy how lucky I was that day.” She walked away from the racetrack with enough cash to print the first three issues of the magazine, but not enough to pay back those credit cards.

While she worked two other jobs and with an all-volunteer staff, Curve magazine was launched.

Another challenge Stevens faced was the fact that the word “lesbian” would be prominently on the front cover. That meant that every time someone picked up the magazine one would “out” themselves.

In 1996, a French actress sued the magazine for the use of the previous name Deneuve, which nearly put them out of business. That is when the magazine changed its name to Curve, subtitled “The Lesbian Magazine.”

Many had feedback for changing the word lesbian to an alternate spelling of woman and calling it a women’s magazine, but Stevens felt strongly about keeping the word on the cover for several reasons. She wanted people to feel proud of who they were and not to be ashamed of that word, and to live their true selves. Having a color, glossy magazine was a way personally for Stevens to say to her readers, “You deserve this, we put a lot of money into this because we deserve it…we want you to know you are worthy of having something nice…and you’re not alone.”

What Stevens and Curve set out to do was grassroots in that they were reporting on new stuff but also embracing what was already there and shedding light onto it. It meant that they were showcasing women in our community that were doing great things and who weren’t celebrities, which was always from Day One important, according to Stevens. The messaging was clear; you’re alright, you’re OK, you’re not by yourself and you can do anything that you want.

However, protecting Curve readers was also important to Stevens. They would use brown paper or poly bags to mail the magazine to ensure the Curve readers were not outed. Having been outed herself by her ex-husband, she knew firsthand how that felt and would not want to out anyone in that situation or endanger any of the readers. Stevens states that there were many issues mailed to military bases during the time of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” or perhaps sent to homes of readers who may have had a homophobic parent.

Finding the constituency for Curve was challenging — there was no social media, there was no advertising, so packing up a van, driving across the country, and delivering the magazine to bars, bookstores, and clubs was what she and her staff did nearly every summer.

Midway through our conversation, Stevens took a moment to commend LGBTQ journalists because she stated no one can tell our stories better than we can. I interjected and added it was important for the younger generation to learn and know about her and Curve. It is history that we of that generation created, lived, and experienced.

As the magazine gained popularity, it became clear to Stevens that Curve was saving people’s lives, and it was helping writers, musicians, artists, and so many intersections of our community.

The first musician and celebrity who appeared on the front cover was Melissa Etheridge, who, according to Stevens, took a chance and said yes. Etheridge has been an advocate for many years of Curve and Stevens recalls Etheridge saying, “Well you helped me too, you introduced so many people to my work.” It was a two-way street.

Through The Curve Foundation, a project was conceived around the time of Curve magazine’s 30th anniversary, Stevens, a co-founder, references a more inclusive intergenerational mission. When she reacquired Curve magazine in 2021 after selling it in 2010, she donated the magazine to the foundation.

While historically, the LGBTQ community was called the “gay“ community, Stevens feels that having the word lesbian on the cover of Curve magazine had a hand in defining the lesbian community apart from being generic. The Curve Foundation brings visibility to not only the lesbian community, but also queer women, trans women, and nonbinary people. It is also an intergenerational platform, a historical archive.

In the documentary Ahead of the Curve, streaming now on Netflix and directed and co-produced by Jen Rainin, Stevens’ journey is documented from the early beginnings of Curve magazine to selling the magazine in 2010 and then reacquiring it in 2021 during the 30th anniversary year. Through the complexities and challenges to recreating and reinventing Curve’s future, Franco Stevens has always stayed above the curve.

You can watch Ahead of the Curve streaming on Netflix.

TheCurveFoundation.org

lesbianvisibilityweekusa.com