‘It’s too easy to go back into the closet’
As Pride season gets under way, Luke Mintz visits an inspiring LGBT charity bringing generations together
Barry Broadbent came out of the closet before it was legal, he is proud to say. It was 1963, four years before Britain’s partial decriminalisation of homosexual acts, and he was a young businessman, living in Leeds. By revealing his sexuality, he risked his reputation and job.
Bursting with energy at the age of 77, it is clear Broadbent has no plans to hide his sexuality now. But there is growing concern that some baby boomers are “de-gaying” themselves when they go into care homes.
In recent documentary Return to the Closet, older gay men and women in Scotland revealed they had felt compelled to retreat into the closet for fear of bullying by staff or other residents. Some didn’t feel able to put up personal photos or mementoes.
The charity, Friends of Dorothy, aims to change this and is tackling isolation among elderly LGBT people in Yorkshire. Founded in 2017 – half a century after the Sexual Offences Act decriminalised sex between men aged over 21 – it arranges gatherings at The Wardrobe restaurant in Leeds and offers a “befriending network”,’ which ensures somebody is at the end of a phone or available for a visit.
According to the British Red Cross, nine million people in the UK say they “often or always” feel lonely. The issue is thought to be even more pressing among elderly LGBT people, who are less likely to have children, and may have been alienated from relatives.
“[They] go into nursing care or supported housing and they’ve got to ‘come out’ all over again,” says Craig
‘It’s important that stories from our generation are told and recorded’
Burton, who founded Friends of Dorothy. “But when you’re old, tired and frightened, it’s easy to go back in. Often older people are put in situations with people who were homophobic to them when they were younger, so it’s scary. The idea that it’s the only option, when we’re older, filled me with dread.”
The charity has been buoyed by high-profile endorsements, including playwright Alan Bennett, who called it “an excellent idea”. Diana Lascelles, Countess of Harewood, has become a patron and is a regular attendee at its fundraising lunches.
At one such recent event, at Leeds Civic Hall, dozens of guests – mostly men in their 70s and 80s – gathered to eat, sing, and exchange stories. The mood was jovial, but guests did not shy away from the darker parts of their lives. Broadbent, who has been with his partner for 37 years, recalled how one of his friends was sent to prison in the Sixties. Others were unable to pursue their careers after coming out.
“Lots of us older ones need support, and that’s what this organisation tries to do. I’ve made lots of friends,” Broadbent explains, as he gestures to Ian, 77, who turned to Friends of Dorothy after his partner died. “They’ve been gay as long as I have, and I never knew them. I think it’s important that stories from our generation are told and recorded.”
Some of those helped by the charity were hit by the Aids crisis: “Most lost friends. The community shrank but people also went back into the closet,” Burton says. Many moved to London to “be among friends”, he adds, which deprived LGBT people in remote parts of the country of a community.
Looking around the room, it’s hard not to be struck by the intergenerational mix, as baby boomers and millennials mingle with ease – a rare sight in modern Britain. “A lot of these people didn’t have grandchildren, and lots of these kids, their grandparents don’t understand who they are,” says Burton. “Some of our younger people didn’t have a clue that partial decriminalisation was only 50 years ago. Some don’t remember a time when same-sex couples couldn’t have civil partnerships or marriage.”
Davis Tarvanas, 21, recently went to the pantomime with friends from the charity, many of whom are in their 80s. “We have destroyed the barriers,” he says. “Older people are afraid of younger people sometimes, and vice versa, but it’s all just faded.”
Friends of Dorothy is in vogue, it seems: Netflix’s new miniseries Tales of the City – based on the 1993 British series of the same name – is about the friendships between pensioners and twentysomethings in the gay community in San Francisco.
Back in Leeds, lunch finishes with a rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Little wonder a few guests are tearful as they sing: “The dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”