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"I've Never Felt As Scared as I Did When People Were Killed for Being In Love"

I talked to a pensioner about the gay community and this is what she had to say.

By Jack SamuelsPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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Photography via David Morris

I felt prepared to meet her, but I hadn't even thought of how Mrs. Adley would approach me. If she was anything like the elderly people I'd met and come to adore, would she invite me past the threshold and ask if I'd enjoy a tea and biscuit? Pop the kettle on perhaps?

When I attend meetings, interviews, dinners—any event, really—I have a habit of arriving early. I'd arrived a few minutes before the interview, just in case she was the type who didn't like to be kept waiting. My Uber pulled up to the driveway out front and I stepped onto the nature strip with my satchel hanging over my shoulder. I waved the driver off as he swished back down the street in his steel-grey Kia. I then walked to the door, rang Adley's bell, and took out my notepad. When she opened the door, Ms. A greeted me with a sweet old smile and invited me in.

She did in fact offer me tea, and I gratefully accepted as she flipped the switch on her kettle. Her home smelt of a sweet mix between sugar biscuits and honey, and I thought that perhaps she'd been baking. Everything in Ms. Adley's house appeared to be ancient—from the royal-red furniture to the framework of the sanded timber doors who stood tall over the worn cream carpet.

Adley returned to the living room with my herbal tea, sat in the camel back opposite. I pressed record on my phone; the interview began.

"So, Ms. Adley," I started. She threw a free hand to her knee.

"Please, call me Janine."

"Janine. How old were you when you first heard of the LGBTQI+ community?"

"Well, I was born in '31. I 'spose there'd always been people who were gay, but I'd never really heard much about them. LGBT wasn't even an abbreviation back then. It wasn't really a big thing 'til the 80s, when AIDS came about."

"You didn't have any friends who were attracted to the same sex?"

"I did—but they'd not come out and told anybody 'til we were all finished our schooling. I 'spose they were all still 'discovering' themselves. Exploring their sexuality. Back then, it was normal to find your future husband or wife sitting across from you in a classroom. 'Course, the punishments were harsh if you were caught chatting to them in a lesson," she laughed.

"Do you think the people who hadn't come out had purposely waited to avoid stigma?"

"I think so."

She took a sip of her tea.

"It wasn't accepted by everyone. Especially since I attended a Roman-Catholic school. Most teachers there were nuns, so they were completely religious. It was a terrifying time to be in education. There was definitely stigma."

"What about present-day? Do you think people get the wrong idea when they think older generations are less accepting?"

"Partly. I mean, there are, of course, people out there who think being gay or lesbian or bi or whatever—they think it's wrong for many reasons. When you think about what I've just talked 'bout—over many years, the people I knew would have had children and raised them with the same morals. It's quite often the way families have raised their kids or how society shapes a person. Which scares me."

"Why does it scare you?" I took a sip of tea, letting the hot liquid transform my throat into a hot spring of Tetley apple.

"My family were devastated when the attack on Pearl Harbour happened in 1941, and then the Vietnam war in '55. Even though we were never there in the flesh, it had a huge impact on us. But I've never once felt as scared as I did when people were being killed for falling in love."

When Janine spoke those words, my stomach felt as though it had run a three-hundred metre track, drowned and been revived by a small old woman with thin white hair who made tea for her guests and liked the smell of cinnamon. She spoke factually just as much as she did with opinion. She wasn't just speaking through memory; she was talking through soul and with authentic compassion.

"What was it like when the AIDS pandemic hit in '81?"

"Nearly all of the people I knew were either openly gay or were married by that time. I was very close to all my friends, but lost more than half of them to HIV/AIDS. I remember a lot of gay men being blamed for the pandemic, but most the friends I knew were women, so I didn't really understand why the blame was put so much on men."

I smiled, "What are your views on the LGBT community today?"

"What I love most is that younger people are more accepting these days. I know they think, 'Oh, those old people, they don't understand, they're not supportive,' but there are of course some of us like myself who are full-blown advocates. Gay marriage has just been legalised. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to marry my partner before she died, though it makes me happy to see other people pushing through and flourishing with their love. Personally, I've never really cared much for what others think of me, and I don't think anyone should. It's my business who I'm in love with, so don't judge me for kissing another lady in front of you. These days, that's not so much a problem, and as a lesbian woman, I'm proud of us as humans, not just as a community."

"Last question—do you have any advice for young LGBTQI+ people?"

"My mother always told me, 'You are what you give.' I 'spose she meant that if you're happy, the people around you will be too. So, just be happy with who you are. It doesn't matter if you're gay or bi, lesbian, trans, straight. Be yourself. Life is far too short for hatred. Your attitude has to be, "If you're not going to make me happy, I'm not going to have you in my life." Stand up for what you believe in 'til the day you die."

With that, I thanked Ms. Adley for her time, took a sugar biscuit for the road, and wished her a blissful day. I used to be scared of growing old, but perhaps Janice had made it clear that there's much more to do before I die. I felt changed—like somehow, she'd opened my mind to a new world, or like I'd learnt a new language, or something. She was so right, too; it isn't just who you love, it's how you love. I couldn't help but think that, perhaps, if the world was filled with more Janine Adleys, it'd be a much happier place.

For Janine. Thank you. 1931 - 2018.

If you're feeling desperate or lonely, I promise you'll be okay. Please consider reaching out through 13 11 14 (for Australian callers) or visit here for a list of international support chats.

Cover photography by David Morris, 'LGBT', CC Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0), Canon EOS 400D Digital EF-S18-55mm f/3.5-5.6, March 27, 2009. Accessed February 13, 2018 via Flickr

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About the Creator

Jack Samuels

Jack Samuels is an Australian writer, media designer, fashion enthusiast, and English student. He lives at home with two cats.

For enquiries, visit https://officialfolio.wixsite.com/jacksamuels

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