Shared experience, and shared stories about those experiences passed down to later generations, are key elements in building a community and in maintaining it. The LGBTQIA+ community is no different. Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of younger members of the community commenting on the lack of guidance and mentorship from (relative) elders and, at the same time, elders lamenting younger LGBTQIA+ folx lack of understanding about politics, history, and the fundamental battles others fought so they could have rights they do today.
They don’t understand the damage done by the HIV/AIDS academic, not only in terms of the number of deaths, but also the fear and grief that continue to this day. They don’t understand the persistent stigma related to the disease, nor the way people who presented with it were treated by the general public. Many of our younger community members don’t know the name Matthew Shepard (though, tragically, they do know Nex Benedict) and that it took his being murdered for sexual orientation to be considered a criteria for a hate crime. In 2009. That gender identity was added even later and it wasn’t until 2024 (yes, 2024) that a hate crimes case was prosecuted at the federal level citing gender identity as the inciting factor.
We have lost our stories. And because we have lost our stories we have lost our connection and our community stands divided at a time when we need one another very much.
The younger members of the LGBTQIA+ must understand that there are fewer of us than there should be and that we were taught, for much of our lives, that we had to live quietly because to do anything else was to invite disaster. And we elders must understand that if we don’t tell our stories, and those of partners and loved ones and friends who were lost or who weren’t able to do so in their lifetimes, the next generation won’t know anything about what we did to get to where we are, even if it was just to live and love and survive.
The LGBTQIA+ Life Stories Archive is a project I created in response to the need to reforge the connection between generations and to make sure LGBTQIA+ people’s stories are remembered. One of an end-of-life doula’s primary functions is that of a story-catcher; someone who accepts the legacy individuals and communities wish to leave behind, who, with unconditional positive regard, hears what they have to say and sets it down for whomever the individual wishes to have it after they’re gone. I want to catch your story, whatever it is, however much of it you want to tell, and set it down with you in whatever form is most conducive to the telling: a journal entry, a poem, an interview, a dignity therapy exercise, a letter, a painting, etc. and give it to your designated keeper. If that’s your loved one, then that’s who it will go it. If you’re willing to share publicly and anonymously, it will go onto the Project website completely anonymously. If you’re willing to be named, I will be honored to credit you directly.
My goal is to, eventually, write a book that includes the stories I’ve been given permission to share publicly and talk about the experience of collecting them. If people are willing to be contacted again, I would be honored to ask for contributions relating to your experiences of telling your story.
This project is separate from my work as an end-of-life doula and these is no charge for work related to the project.
You do not have to be at end-of-life to participate.
Email: legacyworksdoula@gmail.com for questions or to set up a session.