Edith, a Mexican-American woman, came out in 1946 Los Angeles at the age of 14. When her mother denied the young teen the clothes she wanted, Edith took a job cleaning other poeple's homes so that she could buy herself slacks and shirts and dress herself in a way that said "this is who I am." At that time there was an "anti-masquerading law" in Los Angeles and Edith became its poster child. At least once a week she would be arrested by the police in school, taken to jail, stripped, forced into a dress and then sent home. Her hard-earned slacks and shirt were destroyed and discarded by the police. Edith explains that this ritual went on for several years. After each arrest she would clean other people's toilets until she had earned enough money to buy a new outfit. Knowing she would be arrested in school, why did she keep "wasting" her money on slacks and shirts knowing they would be confiscated and she would undergo the humiliation of arrest in front of the other students? "Nobody was going to f***ing tell me who I am and who I should be," protests an angry Edith at the age of 75. However, today, weak and infirm and unable to stand up for herself, Edith lives in the closet, fearing for her own safety at the hands of devoutly religious health care aides and nurses provided by Catholic charities. Edith is finally wearing dresses.



For over 40 years, Ralph and Tom had been inseparable and in the closet both professionally (teachers) and to their families. Their powerful and enduring love had been a secret. Old habits and fears die hard and the fears associated with being gay during most of the 20th Century made it impossible for them to even consider coming out even today. As they moved into their 80s, Tom fell gravely ill and was rushed to the hospital and for the first time during their long life together, the men were separated. Tom grew desperately lonely in his hospital bed, his "friend" Ralph--legally neither a blood relative nor a spouse--legally prevented by the hospital from visiting. Ralph grew increasingly agitated as he fought the system to sit by the bed of his dying lover, coming out at long last only to be met with official indifference and the reality of law. Weeks passed and by the time Ralph had found his way to a pro bono legal advocate, Tom had died alone and broken-hearted. Ralph took his own life shortly thereafter.

Margarita, Jenny's home health care aide had been a godsend. Jenny, now 80 was too feeble to perform many of the basic functions that would allow her to remain in her home and care for herself. Fortunately, thanks to Medicare and Medicaid, Jenny was able to benefit from the services of Margarita. They became fast friends and thanks to Margarita, Jenny was confident that she could spend her remaining years within the peace and safety of her own home and in her own bed, surrounded by decades of wonderful memories. One day Margarita was arranging Jenny's mail and discovered a copy of The Advocate. Outraged, Margarita stormed into Jenny's bedroom and threw the magazine in the old woman's face. "Sinner! Abomination! You are going to hell!" From that day forward, Jenny lived in dread of her judgmental and wrathful Bible-thumping prison guard. Jenny no longer had family and all of her friends had long since passed away. After several weeks, Jenny found a sympathetic social worker who arranged for her to have a new aide who would not know of Jenny's terrible secret. The social worker canceled Jenny's subscription to The Advocate and purged Jenny's home of any evidence of her true identify including the photographs of her friends and lovers. Jenny now lives in the closet within her own home.

Bill is a 70 year old HIV+ gay man in St. Louis, Mo. He lives on Social Security and Medicaid benefits and several programs and benefits for people who have AIDS. As Bill has grown increasingly frail, he worries about how much longer he can live independently and he worries about another looming problem with life-shattering implications. Bill's case manager at the local senior center can find no nursing home in the St. Louis metropolitan area that will take a 70 year old, openly gay man with AIDS. "I've been gay since since I was a little kid. I could never hide it. You know, I never had to come out because I was never able to pass as a straight person. So I sure as hell can't go back into the closet as an old gay man. What happens next if no nursing home will accept me? I don't have any independent money or family...so then what will happen if I can't take care of myself, living alone and I can't find a safe, non-homophobic place to live when I get really old? Just exactly what is supposed to happen then?"

Andy and Bart had both raised families and outlived their wives after some 50 years of marriage. Occasionally, but rarely, they were treated to visits from their grandchildren in the nursing home where they now both lived. Neither man had ever succumbed to his repressed desires during their long lives but after many conversations over the Scrabble board, Andy and Bart slowly came to realize that they shared a life-long secret.. Now into their 80s, Andy was wheel chair bound and Bart used a walker but slowly, carefully and awkwardly, the two men finally found their way into each other's arms. The love and sex that blossomed between these two elderly men became obvious to everyone in the nursing home, staff and clientele alike. After more than 80 years these two men had finally come out of the closet.. Two weeks into their affair, Andy was involuntarily moved to another nursing home within the North Carolina state system; both men now found themselves the targets of contempt, insults and harassment. What love and nature had at long last united, homophobia brutally tore apart.

Renea enjoys lunch daily at a Chicago senior center serving low income seniors. Her much younger lover who is 59 was laid off from her job of 15 years and after 8 months has still not found employment. Renea supports them both on her Social Security benefits. Noticing that other seniors were bringing their spouses for the free lunch, Renea thought she would bring her partner so that they would both be sure to have at least one good meal a day. So she asked one the staff people about the possibility of her partner coming to have lunch. The staff person told Renea that only heterosexual married partners could be included for a meal under the current AOA federal guidelines, so she could not invite her partner to participate in the lunch meal. Among other things, Renea is terrified because she is much older than her lover and if she dies her lover will not be able to continue Social Security benefits the way that straight married couples do. Her lover will be destitute. At the moment her lover is just hungry.

The good news is that the gay elders described in these stories have been captured by the existing support system and their problems are being addressed. The good news is that there are organizations and individuals working diligently and passionately to rescue gay elders from lives of pain and desperation. The bad news is that the resources, efforts and programs currently available to the gay elder community may be reaching less than one percent of a total population of somewhere between 2.8 and 3 million elderly gay Americans. Furthermore, at least two-thirds of gay and lesbian seniors live alone (twice as many as the senior heterosexual population.) And too many of the remaining 99 percent are mostly living lives of poverty, secrecy, humiliation and desperation. But who cares, right? This country is not kind to its elderly and gay elders in particular are, after all, just faggots and dykes.

Homophobia aside, our monolithic view of aging is an enormous part of the problem. We love our myths. Myth no. 1: Diversity, individuality and sexuality end at 65. Myth no. 2: Old queers are rich and are living out their retirements sipping cocktails by the pool. The reality is that the majority of gay elders, like a majority of elderly Americans are living on fixed incomes, depending on ridiculously inadequate Social Security benefits, wrestling their way through Medicare and Medicaid paperwork and oftentimes flirting with poverty and destitution as their medical and assisted living expenses devour their savings and investments. And on top of that they are dealing with homophobia, gay bashing, unique medical problems that have mostly been overlooked by the system and rampant ageism.

And considering the vast numbers of the aging baby boomer population, the crushing economic and social consequences of ageism may very well bring this nation to its knees. And, tragically, the gay community is even more guilty of ageism than mainstream America. It's a form of bigotry that simply dwarfs homophobia for the simple reason that a young queer can walk away from a problem while an old queer cannot. Recently reporting on the nation's first low-income housing for gay elders, leading blog Queerty ran the headline, "LA Gay Geezers Find Home...Sounds like a regular snooze fest." Shame on Queerty. Shame on all of us.

But we're going to work together to change all this. Over the next few months, this site is going to tackle ageism, aging in America and the crisis facing gay elders. And we're going to change our attitudes, seek out ways to help, provide support for our elders and, quite selfishly, build a much better future for ourselves. After all, if you don't' look out for that 80 year old version of yourself, who will?