This NY Times article about lesbian communities is a must-read. Like convents of nuns, they are becoming extinct. The article opines about the lack of new and younger members but I think the big issue is the comfort we each feel when surrounded exclusively by own "own kind".
No matter how often we'd like to join hands with the world in its diversity and teach it to sing by sharing a coke or gleefully proclaiming it to be a "small world afterall", we all relish the ability to celebrate our sameness just as much as our diversity. I first realized this when I went to live at a seminary at the age of fourteen. Seven hundred men, most of them gay, all under one roof. No women. The air was thick with queenly masculinity. I never felt more at home.
As a post-priestly adult, I am comfortable with women, I celebrate with them, and I value my women friends deeply, but the comfort I feel in an all-male environment like the locker room of the gym is indisputable, and I don't think I should feel guilty about that.
Does growing up mean extending our comfort zone to encompass people of different color and sexual expression and identity? Sure, but do we ever stop pining for a kitchen filled exclusively with the scent of our own kind? Are some of our efforts at inclusion and assimilation deluded?