Twilight Lovers (1994) by Tina Fiveash
Inspired by ‘Girl’s Own’ annuals and the Australian Women’s Weekly magazine from the 1950s, Stories for Girls is a tongue-in-cheek attempt to recreate missing lesbian photographic history from an era where homosexuality was a criminal offense, and lesbians were forced to remain in the closet and keep their relationships hidden from society.

Twilight Lovers (1994) by Tina Fiveash

Inspired by ‘Girl’s Own’ annuals and the Australian Women’s Weekly magazine from the 1950s, Stories for Girls is a tongue-in-cheek attempt to recreate missing lesbian photographic history from an era where homosexuality was a criminal offense, and lesbians were forced to remain in the closet and keep their relationships hidden from society.

knowhomo:

I only met one other homosexual in the army. That was in Le Havre in 1917. We was on the boat coming home. I don’t know how these things work, whether it’s through conversation, or whether it’s the attitude of the individual concerned, but we seemed to come together, see. All of a sudden his arm was round my neck and this, that and the other, and then, of course, one thing led to another. And that was Phil, my affair that I had for seven years. When I come out of the army we stuck together. I was living at the time in Ilford. I rejoined the army in 1920, then I went out to Germany. I was living with Phil at the time and I saw him when I came home on leave and we kept a flat together. I was in the army because the army was my life at that period. He was somebody just like a wife to come home to…
… I don’t think our friends or family knew, yet they had a very good suspicion. Phil and I often talked about it, only he said, well, he says, as long as we love each other, what’s it to do with other people? And that was the true situation.
Text: First person account as told by Gerald, born 1892, Norfolk, England.  Excerpted from Between the Acts: Lives of Homosexual Men 1885-1967, Jeffrey Weeks and Kevin Porter (eds)
(story found thanks to: www.woolfandwilde.com)

knowhomo:

I only met one other homosexual in the army. That was in Le Havre in 1917. We was on the boat coming home. I don’t know how these things work, whether it’s through conversation, or whether it’s the attitude of the individual concerned, but we seemed to come together, see. All of a sudden his arm was round my neck and this, that and the other, and then, of course, one thing led to another. And that was Phil, my affair that I had for seven years. When I come out of the army we stuck together. I was living at the time in Ilford. I rejoined the army in 1920, then I went out to Germany. I was living with Phil at the time and I saw him when I came home on leave and we kept a flat together. I was in the army because the army was my life at that period. He was somebody just like a wife to come home to…

… I don’t think our friends or family knew, yet they had a very good suspicion. Phil and I often talked about it, only he said, well, he says, as long as we love each other, what’s it to do with other people? And that was the true situation.

Text: First person account as told by Gerald, born 1892, Norfolk, England.  Excerpted from Between the Acts: Lives of Homosexual Men 1885-1967, Jeffrey Weeks and Kevin Porter (eds)

(story found thanks to: www.woolfandwilde.com)

An interview with lesbian Stonewall veteran Stormé DeLarverie | AfterEllen

vintagelesbian:

homosaywhat:

avocadosalad:

“…What does the future hold for DeLarverie? Cannistraci told me that she is currently in the process of petitioning for legal guardianship of DeLarverie and hopes to move her into a brighter, more modern nursing home with a larger staff and activities for the residents – and one where a friend of DeLarverie’s already resides. “She was a protector of the community, and [her situation] is heartbreaking,” she said.

In the New York Timesarticle about DeLarverie, Cannistraci voiced her frustrations at the gay community’s apathy regarding DeLarverie’s plight.

“I feel like the gay community could have really rallied, but they didn’t,” said Lisa Cannistraci, a longtime friend of Ms. DeLarverie’s who is the owner of the lesbian bar Henrietta Hudson, where Ms. DeLarverie worked as a bouncer. 
“The young gays and lesbians today have never heard of her,” Ms. Cannistraci said, “and most of our activists are young. They’re in their 20s and early 30s. The community that’s familiar with her is dwindling.”

DeLarverie’s situation is, unfortunately, not unique, and it highlights some of the issues faced by LGBT seniors. It is unclear whether DeLarverie has no surviving family members or whether she has surviving family members but simply lost touch with them over the years. Many LGBT elders become isolated from their families, either because of family disapproval or because they moved away from their families to a big city with a large LGBT population, thereby becoming out of sight and out of mind. If they do end up in a retirement home or nursing home, there is also the issue of whether other residents will have a problem with their sexual orientation. Furthermore, in many states, same sex partners cannot be legally bound, and if there is no next of kin, one can end up being a ward of the state. If the Rosa Parks of the gay community can end up in a nursing home among strangers like other forgotten elderly men and women, it is certainly a wake up call.

As it was time for Farrell and me to leave, DeLarverie offered to escort us to the door, and struggled a bit to stand. We protested. “No, no, we’re fine!” She was having none of that, as she steadied herself and made a beeline for the door. Old age and a spill earlier in the week would not get in the way of good manners and chivalry. Farrell took her right hand, and I took the left, and we all walked towards the door together. She kissed us both on the cheek and bid us farewell. “Take care, babies,” she said.”

I cried while reading most of this article. People like her are the reason every gay person needs to come out of the closet. If she could do it back then, we can all certainly do it today. It’s so sad that someone so important to LGBT history has been nearly forgotten—being open and honest is least we can do for people like her.

When I was thirteen years old my beautiful mother and my father moved me from a conservative Mormon home in San Antonio, Texas to California and I heard the story of Harvey Milk and it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life, it gave me the hope to one day I could live my life openly as who I am, and that maybe even I could fall in love and one day get married…

[…]

But most of all, if Harvey had not been taken from us 30 years ago, I think he would want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who have been told that they are less than by their churches, or by the government, or by their families, that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value, and that no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you and that very soon I promise you, you will have equal rights federally across this great nation of ours.

Dustin Lance Black, in his acceptance speech for Best Original Screenplay at the 81st Academy Awards