Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer elders convey truths that letters (typed and handwritten) cannot, that yellowing news clippings cannot, that fading photographs cannot.
When LGBTQ elders share stories from their lives, their eyes flash with emotion. Their faces show the idiosyncrasies of personality. Their voices sometimes express joy, sometimes pain, sometimes anger, and, yes, sometimes sexual nostalgia.
Continue reading “Before a Live Audience”
When writer Beth Brant died on August 6, 2015, she left behind a loving family and a vibrant literary legacy documenting her life as a Native American lesbian. A mother, grandmother, and longtime Melvindale resident, Brant is remembered as a pathbreaking lesbian author, poet, essayist, editor, lecturer, and literary activist.
Due to the lack of availability of her books, however, Brant’s legacy has risked being forgotten. Many of her works have fallen out of print. A new copy of one title is currently offered on Amazon for nearly $1,500. For someone whose public life centered on words, finding new generations of readers is key to being remembered.
Continue reading “Remembering Beth Brant”
I probably met Brian McKinney only once, but his death more than thirty years ago still haunts me.
I recall lingering at the bus stop in downtown Flint while in high school in the early 1980s as an achingly lonely gay boy, watching for him. He was a student at the barber college on Saginaw Street and, with lilting hair dyed blond and green, dared to be visibly queer at a time when being queer and being visible were unfathomable in my hometown.
Continue reading “By Their Own Hand”
On social media this past week, my friend Bob posted an announcement that a friend of his from high school had taken his own life.
Within 48 hours, at the behest of the friend’s family, he took the posting down.
The erasure nagged at Bob to the point that he sent a message to me, my husband Rick, and our friend Pete: Continue reading “Erasures”
Thirty years ago next month, at age 24, I took the Greyhound bus from Flint to view for my first time the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt, which was on display at Cobo Hall. Caught up in my own post-teen gay angst and loneliness, I wrote in my journal on July 6th: “Tom’w I go to Detroit to be sobered by the AIDS quilt.”
As if it was a movie or TV show that would trigger some deeper feeling, that might jolt me out of early-20s myopia.
Continue reading “The Quilt at Cobo”
“These women were irrepressible,” Roey Thorpe remembers.
In 1992, while a doctoral student at Binghamton University, Roey interviewed two dozen Detroit-area lesbian and bisexual women for her planned dissertation. Although Roey did not finish the dissertation—choosing a path of activism rather than academia—she mined these vital oral histories for two pioneering articles.
Continue reading “Roey and Her Interviews”
This week on Facebook, my friend Pete tagged me for some sort of album challenge whereby I am urged or obligated, chain-letter style, to post an album per day for ten days. With little instruction to the challenge as it came to me, I have been selecting albums, good and bad, that made a lasting impression. My album of choice for today is Shaun Cassidy’s self-titled 1977 debut LP.
It had nothing to do with the music.
Continue reading “Remembering Age Thirteen”