Brianna Lovely
10-14-2007, 06:53 AM
There have been a few threads discussing what would happen when we passed away. What about our fem things and what would people think.
A friend sent me this artical and I thought it was worth sharing.
NY Times Article
Aging and Gay, and Facing Prejudice in Twilight
By JANE GROSS
Even now, at 81 and with her memory beginning to fade, Gloria
Donadello recalls her painful brush with bigotry at an assisted-
living center in Santa Fe, N.M. Sitting with those she considered
friends, "people were laughing and making certain kinds of comments,
and I told them, `Please don't do that, because I'm gay.'"
The result of her outspokenness, Ms. Donadello said, was swift and
merciless. "Everyone looked horrified," she said. No longer included
in conversation or welcome at meals, she plunged into depression.
Medication did not help. With her emotional health deteriorating, Ms.
Donadello moved into an adult community nearby that caters to gay men
and lesbians.
"I felt like I was a pariah," she said, settled in her new home. "For
me, it was a choice between life and death."
Elderly gay people like Ms. Donadello, living in nursing homes or
assisted-living centers or receiving home care, increasingly report
that they have been disrespected, shunned or mistreated in ways that
range from hurtful to deadly, even leading some to commit suicide.
Some have seen their partners and friends insulted or isolated.
Others live in fear of the day when they are dependent on strangers
for the most personal care. That dread alone can be damaging,
physically and emotionally, say geriatric doctors, psychiatrists and
social workers.
The plight of the gay elderly has been taken up by a generation of
gay men and lesbians, concerned about their own futures, who have
begun a national drive to educate care providers about the social
isolation, even outright discrimination, that lesbian, gay, bisexual
and transgender clients face.
Several solutions are emerging. In Boston, New York, Chicago, Atlanta
and other urban centers, so-called L.G.B.T. Aging Projects are
springing up, to train long-term care providers. At the same time,
there is a move to separate care, with the comfort of the familiar.
In the Boston suburbs, the Chelsea Jewish Nursing Home will break
ground in December for a complex that includes a unit for the gay and
lesbian elderly. And Stonewall Communities in Boston has begun
selling homes designed for older gay people with support services
similar to assisted-living centers. There are also openly gay
geriatric case managers who can guide clients to compassionate
services.
"Many times gay people avoid seeking help at all because of their
fears about how they'll be treated," said David Aronstein, president
of Stonewall Communities. "Unless they see affirming actions, they'll
assume the worst."
Homophobia directed at the elderly has many faces.
Home health aides must be reminded not to wear gloves at
inappropriate times, for example while opening the front door or
making the bed, when there is no evidence of H.I.V. infection, said
Joe Collura, a nurse at the largest home care agency in Greenwich
Village.
A lesbian checking into a double room at a Chicago rehabilitation
center was greeted by a roommate yelling, "Get the man out of here!"
The lesbian patient, Renae Ogletree, summoned a friend to take her
elsewhere.
Sometimes tragedy results. In one nursing home, an openly gay man,
without family or friends, was recently moved off his floor to quiet
the protests of other residents and their families. He was given a
room among patients with severe disabilities or dementia. The home
called upon Amber Hollibaugh, now a senior strategist at the National
Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the author of the first training
curriculum for nursing homes. Ms. Hollibaugh assured the 79-year-old
man that a more humane solution would be found, but he hanged
himself, Ms. Hollibaugh said. She was unwilling to identify the
nursing home or even its East Coast city, because she still consults
there, among other places.
While this outcome is exceedingly rare, moving gay residents to
placate others is common, said Dr. Melinda Lantz, chief of geriatric
psychiatry at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York, who spent 13
years in a similar post at the Jewish Home and Hospital Lifecare
System. "When you're stuck and have to move someone because they're
being ganged up on, you put them with people who are very confused,"
Dr. Lantz said. "That's a terrible nuts-and-bolts reality."
The most common reaction, in a generation accustomed to being in the
closet, is a retreat back to the invisibility that was necessary for
most of their lives, when homosexuality was considered both a crime
and a mental illness. A partner is identified as a brother. No
pictures or gay-themed books are left around.
Elderly heterosexuals also suffer the indignities of old age, but not
to the same extent, Dr. Lantz said. "There is something special about
having to hide this part of your identity at a time when your entire
identity is threatened," she said. "That's a faster pathway to
depression, failure to thrive and even premature death."
The movement to improve conditions for the gay elderly is driven by
demographics. There are an estimated 2.4 million gay, lesbian or
bisexual Americans over the age of 55, said Gary Gates, a senior
research fellow at the Williams Institute at the University of
California, Los Angeles. That estimate was extrapolated by Dr. Gates
using census data that counts only same-sex couples along with other
government data that counts both single and coupled gay people. Among
those in same-sex couples, the number of gay men and women over 55
has almost doubled from 2000 to 2006, Dr. Gates said, to 416,000,
from 222,000.
California is the only state with a law saying the gay elderly have
special needs, like other members of minority groups. A new law
encourages training for employees and contractors who work with the
elderly and permits state financing of projects like gay senior
centers.
Federal law provides no antidiscrimination protections to gay people.
Twenty states explicitly outlaw such discrimination in housing and
public accommodations. But no civil rights claims have been made by
gay residents of nursing homes, according to the Lambda Legal Defense
Fund, which litigates and monitors such cases. Potential plaintiffs,
the organization says, are too frail or frightened to bring action.
The problem is compounded, experts say, because most of the gay
elderly do not declare their identity, and institutions rarely make
an effort to find out who they are to prepare staff members and
residents for what may be an unfamiliar situation.
So that is where Lisa Krinsky, the director of the L.G.B.T. Aging
Project in Massachusetts, begins her "cultural competency" training
sessions, including one last month at North Shore Elder Services in
Danvers.
Admissions forms for long-term care have boxes to check for marital
status and next of kin. But none of the boxes match the circumstances
of gay men or lesbians. Ms. Krinsky suggested follow-up questions
like "Who is important in your life?"
In the last two years, Ms. Krinsky has trained more than 2,000
employees of agencies serving the elderly across Massachusetts. She
presents them with common problems and nudges them toward solutions.
A gay man fired his home health aide. Did the case manager ask why?
The patient might be receiving unwanted Bible readings from someone
who thinks homosexuality is a sin. What about a lesbian at an
assisted-living center refusing visitors? Maybe she is afraid that
her friends' appearance will give her away to fellow residents.
"We need to be open and sensitive," Ms. Krinsky said, "but not wrap
them in a rainbow flag and make them march in a parade."
Some of the gay elderly chose openness as the quickest and most
painless way of finding compassionate care. That is the case for
Bruce Steiner, 76, of Sudbury, Mass., whose 71-year-old partner, Jim
Anthony, has had Alzheimer's disease for more than a decade and can
no longer feed himself or speak.
Mr. Steiner is resisting a nursing home for Mr. Anthony, even after
several hospitalizations last year. The care had been uneven, Mr.
Steiner said, and it was unclear whether homosexuality was a factor.
But Mr. Steiner decided to take no chances and hired a gay case
manager who helped him "do some filtering."
They selected a home care agency with a reputation for treating gay
clients well. Preparing for an unknown future, Mr. Steiner also
visited several nursing homes, "giving them the opportunity to
encourage or discourage me." His favorite "is one run by the
Carmelite sisters, of all things, because they had a sense of humor."
They are the exception, not the rule.
Jalna Perry, a 77-year-old lesbian and psychiatrist in Boston, is
out, she said, but does not broadcast the fact, which would feel
unnatural to someone of her generation. Dr. Perry, who uses a
wheelchair, has spent time in assisted-living centers and nursing
homes. There, she said, her guard was up all the time.
Dr. Perry came out to a few other residents in the assisted-living
center — artsy, professional women who she figured would accept her.
But even with them, she said, "You don't talk about gay things."
Mostly, she kept to herself. "You size people up," Dr. Perry
said. "You know the activities person is a lesbian; that's a quick
read."
Trickier was an aide who was gentle with others but surly and heavy-
handed when helping Dr. Perry with personal tasks. Did the aide
suspect and disapprove? With a male nurse who was gay, Dr. Perry said
she felt "extremely comfortable. "
"Except for that nurse, I was very lonely," she said. "It would have
been nice if someone else was out among the residents."
Such loneliness is a source of dread to the members of the Prime
Timers, a Boston social group for older gay men. Among the regulars,
who meet for lunch once a week, are Emile Dufour, 70, a former
priest, and Fred Riley, 75, who has a 30-year heterosexual marriage
behind him. The pair have been together for two decades and married
in 2004. But their default position, should they need nursing care,
will be to hide their gayness, as they did for half a lifetime,
rather than face slurs and whispers.
"As strong as I am today," Mr. Riley said, "when I'm at the gate of
the nursing home, the closet door is going to slam shut behind me."
A friend sent me this artical and I thought it was worth sharing.
NY Times Article
Aging and Gay, and Facing Prejudice in Twilight
By JANE GROSS
Even now, at 81 and with her memory beginning to fade, Gloria
Donadello recalls her painful brush with bigotry at an assisted-
living center in Santa Fe, N.M. Sitting with those she considered
friends, "people were laughing and making certain kinds of comments,
and I told them, `Please don't do that, because I'm gay.'"
The result of her outspokenness, Ms. Donadello said, was swift and
merciless. "Everyone looked horrified," she said. No longer included
in conversation or welcome at meals, she plunged into depression.
Medication did not help. With her emotional health deteriorating, Ms.
Donadello moved into an adult community nearby that caters to gay men
and lesbians.
"I felt like I was a pariah," she said, settled in her new home. "For
me, it was a choice between life and death."
Elderly gay people like Ms. Donadello, living in nursing homes or
assisted-living centers or receiving home care, increasingly report
that they have been disrespected, shunned or mistreated in ways that
range from hurtful to deadly, even leading some to commit suicide.
Some have seen their partners and friends insulted or isolated.
Others live in fear of the day when they are dependent on strangers
for the most personal care. That dread alone can be damaging,
physically and emotionally, say geriatric doctors, psychiatrists and
social workers.
The plight of the gay elderly has been taken up by a generation of
gay men and lesbians, concerned about their own futures, who have
begun a national drive to educate care providers about the social
isolation, even outright discrimination, that lesbian, gay, bisexual
and transgender clients face.
Several solutions are emerging. In Boston, New York, Chicago, Atlanta
and other urban centers, so-called L.G.B.T. Aging Projects are
springing up, to train long-term care providers. At the same time,
there is a move to separate care, with the comfort of the familiar.
In the Boston suburbs, the Chelsea Jewish Nursing Home will break
ground in December for a complex that includes a unit for the gay and
lesbian elderly. And Stonewall Communities in Boston has begun
selling homes designed for older gay people with support services
similar to assisted-living centers. There are also openly gay
geriatric case managers who can guide clients to compassionate
services.
"Many times gay people avoid seeking help at all because of their
fears about how they'll be treated," said David Aronstein, president
of Stonewall Communities. "Unless they see affirming actions, they'll
assume the worst."
Homophobia directed at the elderly has many faces.
Home health aides must be reminded not to wear gloves at
inappropriate times, for example while opening the front door or
making the bed, when there is no evidence of H.I.V. infection, said
Joe Collura, a nurse at the largest home care agency in Greenwich
Village.
A lesbian checking into a double room at a Chicago rehabilitation
center was greeted by a roommate yelling, "Get the man out of here!"
The lesbian patient, Renae Ogletree, summoned a friend to take her
elsewhere.
Sometimes tragedy results. In one nursing home, an openly gay man,
without family or friends, was recently moved off his floor to quiet
the protests of other residents and their families. He was given a
room among patients with severe disabilities or dementia. The home
called upon Amber Hollibaugh, now a senior strategist at the National
Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the author of the first training
curriculum for nursing homes. Ms. Hollibaugh assured the 79-year-old
man that a more humane solution would be found, but he hanged
himself, Ms. Hollibaugh said. She was unwilling to identify the
nursing home or even its East Coast city, because she still consults
there, among other places.
While this outcome is exceedingly rare, moving gay residents to
placate others is common, said Dr. Melinda Lantz, chief of geriatric
psychiatry at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York, who spent 13
years in a similar post at the Jewish Home and Hospital Lifecare
System. "When you're stuck and have to move someone because they're
being ganged up on, you put them with people who are very confused,"
Dr. Lantz said. "That's a terrible nuts-and-bolts reality."
The most common reaction, in a generation accustomed to being in the
closet, is a retreat back to the invisibility that was necessary for
most of their lives, when homosexuality was considered both a crime
and a mental illness. A partner is identified as a brother. No
pictures or gay-themed books are left around.
Elderly heterosexuals also suffer the indignities of old age, but not
to the same extent, Dr. Lantz said. "There is something special about
having to hide this part of your identity at a time when your entire
identity is threatened," she said. "That's a faster pathway to
depression, failure to thrive and even premature death."
The movement to improve conditions for the gay elderly is driven by
demographics. There are an estimated 2.4 million gay, lesbian or
bisexual Americans over the age of 55, said Gary Gates, a senior
research fellow at the Williams Institute at the University of
California, Los Angeles. That estimate was extrapolated by Dr. Gates
using census data that counts only same-sex couples along with other
government data that counts both single and coupled gay people. Among
those in same-sex couples, the number of gay men and women over 55
has almost doubled from 2000 to 2006, Dr. Gates said, to 416,000,
from 222,000.
California is the only state with a law saying the gay elderly have
special needs, like other members of minority groups. A new law
encourages training for employees and contractors who work with the
elderly and permits state financing of projects like gay senior
centers.
Federal law provides no antidiscrimination protections to gay people.
Twenty states explicitly outlaw such discrimination in housing and
public accommodations. But no civil rights claims have been made by
gay residents of nursing homes, according to the Lambda Legal Defense
Fund, which litigates and monitors such cases. Potential plaintiffs,
the organization says, are too frail or frightened to bring action.
The problem is compounded, experts say, because most of the gay
elderly do not declare their identity, and institutions rarely make
an effort to find out who they are to prepare staff members and
residents for what may be an unfamiliar situation.
So that is where Lisa Krinsky, the director of the L.G.B.T. Aging
Project in Massachusetts, begins her "cultural competency" training
sessions, including one last month at North Shore Elder Services in
Danvers.
Admissions forms for long-term care have boxes to check for marital
status and next of kin. But none of the boxes match the circumstances
of gay men or lesbians. Ms. Krinsky suggested follow-up questions
like "Who is important in your life?"
In the last two years, Ms. Krinsky has trained more than 2,000
employees of agencies serving the elderly across Massachusetts. She
presents them with common problems and nudges them toward solutions.
A gay man fired his home health aide. Did the case manager ask why?
The patient might be receiving unwanted Bible readings from someone
who thinks homosexuality is a sin. What about a lesbian at an
assisted-living center refusing visitors? Maybe she is afraid that
her friends' appearance will give her away to fellow residents.
"We need to be open and sensitive," Ms. Krinsky said, "but not wrap
them in a rainbow flag and make them march in a parade."
Some of the gay elderly chose openness as the quickest and most
painless way of finding compassionate care. That is the case for
Bruce Steiner, 76, of Sudbury, Mass., whose 71-year-old partner, Jim
Anthony, has had Alzheimer's disease for more than a decade and can
no longer feed himself or speak.
Mr. Steiner is resisting a nursing home for Mr. Anthony, even after
several hospitalizations last year. The care had been uneven, Mr.
Steiner said, and it was unclear whether homosexuality was a factor.
But Mr. Steiner decided to take no chances and hired a gay case
manager who helped him "do some filtering."
They selected a home care agency with a reputation for treating gay
clients well. Preparing for an unknown future, Mr. Steiner also
visited several nursing homes, "giving them the opportunity to
encourage or discourage me." His favorite "is one run by the
Carmelite sisters, of all things, because they had a sense of humor."
They are the exception, not the rule.
Jalna Perry, a 77-year-old lesbian and psychiatrist in Boston, is
out, she said, but does not broadcast the fact, which would feel
unnatural to someone of her generation. Dr. Perry, who uses a
wheelchair, has spent time in assisted-living centers and nursing
homes. There, she said, her guard was up all the time.
Dr. Perry came out to a few other residents in the assisted-living
center — artsy, professional women who she figured would accept her.
But even with them, she said, "You don't talk about gay things."
Mostly, she kept to herself. "You size people up," Dr. Perry
said. "You know the activities person is a lesbian; that's a quick
read."
Trickier was an aide who was gentle with others but surly and heavy-
handed when helping Dr. Perry with personal tasks. Did the aide
suspect and disapprove? With a male nurse who was gay, Dr. Perry said
she felt "extremely comfortable. "
"Except for that nurse, I was very lonely," she said. "It would have
been nice if someone else was out among the residents."
Such loneliness is a source of dread to the members of the Prime
Timers, a Boston social group for older gay men. Among the regulars,
who meet for lunch once a week, are Emile Dufour, 70, a former
priest, and Fred Riley, 75, who has a 30-year heterosexual marriage
behind him. The pair have been together for two decades and married
in 2004. But their default position, should they need nursing care,
will be to hide their gayness, as they did for half a lifetime,
rather than face slurs and whispers.
"As strong as I am today," Mr. Riley said, "when I'm at the gate of
the nursing home, the closet door is going to slam shut behind me."