Why the SAGE Innovative Center Is Necessary

Today, the SAGE Innovative Center opened in Chelsea.


What is SAGE?  And what's so innovative about the center?


First, the organization:  Straight And LGBT Elders began as  Straight And Gay Elders more than three decades ago.  It was probably the first, and is still one of the few, organizations to cater to the needs of LGBT senior citizens.


So it makes sense (At least, I think it does) that SAGE would open a senior center.   But what, you might wonder, is different about an LGBT senior center?


Well, one of the harshest truths about the LGBT community is that many of us don't have anyone to take care of us--in fact, many of us don't have anybody at all--when we get old.   


There are many reasons for that.  One obvious one is that most of us haven't had children.  Corollary to that is the fact that, until a few years ago, there were no legally-sanctioned same-sex marriages.  This meant that those who lived as committed partners of other members of their own gender didn't have the same legal rights--including those of custody and visitation--that the spouses of heterosexuals enjoyed.  I recall a man I met who was dying of AIDS-related and whose partner of more than two decades couldn't visit him, much less be involved in any decisions about his medical care or estate.  Those rights were held by family members who cut off contact with him after he "came out" during his freshman year in college nearly four decades earlier.


Before and since meeting him, I have talked to other LGBT people who lost contact with their families in a similar fashion.  As an example, Charles King, one of the founders of Housing Works, told me that no relative of his has been in contact with him since he "came out" when he was twenty years old.  He's a few years older than I am.


The fact that they have experienced family life differently from most straight people also affects such things as the ways they deal with the deaths of loved ones.  Although same-sex marriage is now legal in eight US states and the District of Columbia (as well as several nations, including Great Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium and Spain), there is still not the same public support for a gay person grieving the loss of his or her partner as there is for someone who's lost an "opposite"-sex spouse.  Plus, many in the LGBT community have lost their partners--as well as friends and other members of their support networks--to the ravages of HIV/AIDS, as well as to violent crimes.  


I mean no disrespect to anyone who's lost a spouse or other loved one to cancer or any other illness, or to tragedies like the events of 9/11, when I say that LGBT people who've lost partners to HIV/AIDS or hate-fueled violence have, in some ways, a more difficult passage because of the lack of societal support I mentioned as well as the relative scarcity of counselors and other professionals who are trained to help them deal with their circumstances.  As someone who's lost people to HIV/AIDS-related illness, hate-fueled violence (and suicide) as well as pure and simple old age, I can tell you that the last one, while not simple or easy, is somewhat easier  because the deaths of older people are expected, and there are  more bereavement counseling and other kinds of support available for those who have lost parents or other elders, or heterosexual partners, than for those who might be assumed to be straight.

Training For What's Next, Whatever It Is

More training today. For our "homework" last night, we were given a series of questions people might ask out of a variety of motives. When someone asks a question meant to "bait" the recipient, I have the urge to say something sarcastic. Of course I'll need to suppress that if I'm ever in a position of representing an organization, or even transgendered people.

As an example, one of the questions went like this: A friend of mine says she's bisexual. But I think she's in denial; she's really gay. What should I do? The first response that came to my mind was, Really? She's bi? That means she'd like me now, and she would've liked me then. Sounds OK to me.


And, of course, when someone brings religion--especially if the questioner quotes, out of context, some Bible verse-- I want to say something like, You really think that a book you're reading in English but was written before the English language existed came directly from God? Or, So you really want to run your life by a bunch of warmed-over Late Bronze Age myths?


Here's my favorite question: Why did you cut off your dick? No man would ever do that. Aside from the fact that the operation doesn't involve "cutting off your dick," I always want to point out another, more obvious fact, which I would express thusly: You get it! Of course no man would ever cut off his dick!


Anyone who's known me for a long time (You know who you are!) know that I can be sarcastic to the point of meanness. I almost never use that "weapon" these days; in fact, I find that the more hostile and ignorant someone is, the less I want to bring out the verbal knives. In fact, the only person on whom I've used them lately is someone who actually does know better but uses what he know--especially the good things--against me.


Anyway, I was actually enjoying the training, even though today was a bright, sunny Saturday and a bit warmer than the weather has been. There was a group of people from SAGE Milwaukee which, I learned, is the second-oldest SAGE affiliate. I never, ever would have associated that city with anything gay, lesbian or transgendered. Then again, I've never been there. Nor have I been to Chicago, which also has a SAGE affiliate that was well-represented. Also represented were the Long Island, Hudson Valley and Rocky Mountain affiliates.


I enjoyed being around the people for much the same reasons I enjoy being around older people: They've had all sorts of life experiences, so the possibilities for relating are seemingly endless. Also, as a transgender woman, I am interested in hearing about how they lived as gays, lesbians, bisexuals or transgenders, or what other iteration of gender and sexuality they might embody. There was a woman who "came out" after she had grandchildren; others lived with the unwritten and unspoken "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policies of their workplaces and other communities. A few were fortunate enough to be open about themselves and not suffer consequences. However, as you might expect, there are people who lost jobs, families and much more. An example is a trans man who was harrassed out of his job as a nurse when he transitioned.


Oh, did I mention that I have a crush on him? You'd never know that he was born with XX chromosomes: He is trim and ruggedly handsome in the way of someone who works outdoors--and an absolute sweetheart. Alas, he's married and has kids. All right, I'll be magmaminous and feel good that a woman has a good man and a kid has a good Dad.


I also had a bit of a crush on the trainer, a handsome woman who, as it turns out, lives somewhere between where I live and where I work. At the end of the training, she walked up to me, embraced and exclaimed, "I'm in love with you!"



There were a couple of other people with whom I could imagine spending another weekend, or more. And they weren't all senior citizens: The trans man and the woman I just mentioned don't look like they're past 40. Also present were two straight women who considered themselves "allies." Having parents who've been supportive as well as family members and former friends who've distanced or cut themselves off from me, I understand how important people like those two women are.


Now I have a few business cards and a few more e-mail addresses I didn't have on Thursday, along with invitations. One of those cards came from a cute and very nice gay man who's a retired educator. He took me out to Seven, a dark wood-paneled restaurant with big chandeliers that seemed to diffuse the light that came from them. I very much enjoyed the artichoke and almond soup, roast chicken with potatoes and asparagus we ate--each of us finished a full serving of each--and the creme brulee and mango panecotta we shared.


Even if he hadn't taken me out to dinner, I would've wanted to see him again. You see, he appeals to my ego: He spent half the night, it seemed, telling me how pretty and nice he thinks I am, and the "good energy" he feels coming from me.


Oh, and there's even more intrigue. ;-) The trainer and the director of SAGE have asked me whether I want to go to an advocacy weekend, which will include workshops "having a presence," in Washington, DC next weekend. I agreed to it, even though I have mixed feelings about it for political reasons. I want to help older trans people, and trans people and older people generally. But I'm not a fan of government programs generally or Washington, DC--as a city or what it represents. And I have no idea of what I might do there, save possibly for meeting interesting and possibly unsavory people--and learning something, although I'm not sure of exactly what. Then again, part of me says that's exactly the reason to go. So, that's my plan.