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This is probably naive, but do you think that homophobia is to some degree engendered by an individual's lack of personal knowledge of gay folks? That people define gay people based upon the one-sided sensational coverage of gays in the media? I grew up on the Lower East Side around the time period that you reference, on the block north of Tompkins Square Park. The block was a neighborhood, with working class families like mine on one end of the scale to several MDs who both lived and practiced in the same buildings. Before the drug epidemic sent the area downhill, our block had many long term residents. A number of them were gay. The buildings on that block are small and people knew a lot of each other's business. Neighbors knew which of their neighbors were gay, and seemed to find them as ordinary & boring as the straights on the block. We had a lesbian couple in the building next to mine who were artists and I remember visiting their studio w/o anyone worrying my virtue potentially being compromised. (The same could not be said of the heterosexual male architect who also lived on the block.) I went to Catholic grammar school and don't have a single memory of gays being discussed, much less condemned. That was also true for our Church services. We had a priest for a long time who was gay, who unexpectedly kindly appeared & concelebrated my father's funeral mass even though it was held at a different parish.The monsignor garnered a lot more gossip, given that he drank a lot more than sacramental wine and had a live-in housekeeper/cook in the rectory who did more than just turn the sheets down lol.
If you'll permit me, I'd like to relay a tale about my mother. I didn't like her too much (she's dead now), but one of her finest moments in my memory involved Ed, a gay neighbor of ours. Now, my mother had grown up in coal mining country in PA which was and probably still is a very bigoted area (the straights of each ethnic pursuasion hated each other); she never finished highschool. Not the perfect recipe for tolerance. She was a church-going, observant Catholic for her entire life.Ed had moved into the only other apartment on our floor when I was abt 12. He was a very nice guy in his 30's, who was quite outgoing and 'publically' gay. He also had 2 cats, the true test of someone's character. He and my mother, who was a homemaker at the time, hit it off from the start. When he wasn't doing anything at night he would often come over, sit down on the floor and watch television with us. After Ed had lived next door to us for awhile, my mother who was quite nosy, starting asking him abt his family. It turned out that his father was dead from a heart attack at a young age. His mother lived in Bergen County which is a short distance from the city. His mother however had broken off contact with Ed when he came out.
A little while after she learned this, my mother asked Ed for his mother's phone number. She called her up, identified her relationship to Ed, and then told her that she had a wonderful son and that she should be ashamed of herself for not accepting him as he was. She really laid into the woman.Two weeks later, we got a knock on our door; it was Ed with his mother, who had decided to come and see him, and wanted to meet my mother. I don't know whether their relationship was ever fully repaired, but to whatever degree it was, my mother deserved part of the credit.
Thanks for letting me tell the story.
PT
p.s. Then there was the time my mother gave temporary sanctuary to Ed's thriving pot plant. I won't bore you with the details as to why he asked her to take it but there was one very funny moment when my father noticed the plant and asked her what the hell she was doing with a marijuana plant in their bedroom window. My mother looked at him with a straight face and said " what are you talking about? You know nothing about plants, Frank. It's a begonia." I still laugh to this day when I remember that conversation.
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