ReadOut

Village Elders
In her lively and sensitive portraits of Greenwich Village "elders," Penny Coleman brings us the good news about the joy and resilience of our older gay family members
by Penny Coleman, University of Illinois Press
reviewed by Marcia Chamberlain

If you enjoyed Yvonne Welbon’s film about the life and times of Ruth C. Ellis, then you can expect to be utterly captivated by the engaging stories in Penny Coleman’s photodocumentary Village Elders. Coleman’s book introduces us to a charming cast of older women and men who bear witness to an earlier time in lesbian and gay history.

The 36 "elders" that Coleman interviewed for her chronicle took up residence in Greenwich Village primarily during the ’20s, ’30s, and ’40s. Coleman shares with us their memories of growing up and coming out at a time when homosexuality was considered an illness, support groups were unheard of, Stonewall had not happened, and AIDS did not exist. By presenting us with these well-researched portraits, Coleman offers us a glimpse into the confusion, frustration, and isolation that many lesbians and gays experienced "back then."

Many of the individuals who agreed to be interviewed by Coleman are active members in New York City’s SAGE (Senior Action in a Gay Environment), the nation’s oldest and largest organization supporting the senior lesbian and gay community. Together they are an eclectic group, including singers, boxers, milliners, dancers, teachers, accountants, elevator operators, and breast cancer activists. Some of the seniors featured have been in 40-year monogamous relationships, and some are swinging singles in their 80s. Some are practicing Catholics or Jews, and some are devout agnostics. Their rich diversity of experiences makes Village Elders a true pleasure to read as well as an important contribution to gay and lesbian history.

To varying degrees, the "elders" in Coleman’s book re-open old wounds and let us peek into the past. Some of the voices we hear seem unflinching and cavalier in their candor; others are more reserved and shy about their revelations. The "elders" recall a litany of sorrows: family abuse, eviction notices, dismissals, rejections, political misunderstandings, social injustices, unfaithful lovers, and a multitude of personal uncertainties from their younger years. Regardless, though, of how much they choose to reveal and how much they keep secret, all make it clear that oppression–then and now– is both painful and personal.

Based on the above description, you might think that Coleman’s book will leave you totally overwhelmed or depressed. Not true. In reality, Village Elders chronicles the extraordinary resilience of 36 individuals who survived and thrived with very few mentors and models to guide them. These "elders" relied chiefly on intuition and gut instincts, and their stories celebrate, again and again, the small acts of rebellion and joy and triumph that carried the day.

The voices that emerge from the pages of Coleman’s Village Elders are quirky and curious and passionate and jaunty and naive all at once. In their stories about the past and ideas about the present, these older women and men take us on a meandering journey. Along the way, we get everything from sex advice, to crossdressing tips, to lessons on racism in the gay and lesbian community. Best of all, the stories in Village Elders tantalize and energize us about the possibility of our own future. What will we have to tell the world when we reach 100 years?