A Story of Resilience: Growing up A Lesbian in the 1970s-80s
A Story of Resilience: Growing up A Lesbian in the 1970s-80s
Our superstar founder and President Casey Weitzman (MA, LMFT) shares her story of navigating her identity in a landscape vastly different than today’s. BY CASEY WEITZMAN
Our superstar founder and President Casey Weitzman (MA, LMFT) shares her story of navigating her identity in a landscape vastly different than today’s. BY CASEY WEITZMAN
Author, Casey, at Age 26
Hey everyone, GWLA President & Founder Casey here. As we celebrate Lesbian Visibility Week this year, I wanted to reflect on my experience of growing up closeted, to now running a Gender-Affirming Therapy practice for the LGBTQ+ community. I hope you enjoy reading my story.
Trigger Warnings: Anti-Gay Hate crime, Slurs, Homophobia & Mental Health Struggles
Growing up as a lesbian in the 70’s and 80’s in Los Angeles wasn’t easy. I suffered from anxiety and depression for many years. The first signs of my sexuality were crushes on my best friends, wanting to perform and impress my female gym teachers, but ultimately I fell madly in love with a girl. I was 15 when I experienced these fireworks for the first time. I felt normal when she and I were together. Our families were suspicious, but to them, it was better than sneaking out with boys. It felt amazing and made me happier than I had even been before. It was top secret, as we told no-one. It was our secret.
Being lesbian was taboo and unacceptable at the time. It might come as a surprise to younger folks, but you could end up in a mental institution for being gay. I knew nothing about being transgender, and had never heard words like non-binary, bisexual, queer, or gender non-confirming. Unfortunately, sometimes it takes a hateful interaction for one to fully realize the weight of one’s identity. There were a few times I experienced bullying and harassment—like when a man screamed from a moving bus, calling me “a d*ke”. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t that. My identity started to feel a curse, and I wanted it to stop.
I first tried to get professional help at 18, when a close neighbor offered to pay for the first session. Little did I know, this first therapist would try to convince me to be straight, and advised me to never tell others about my “secret”. I was told that my life would be miserable. There were no out role models to speak of. I watched popular daytime TV of the time, like Sally Jesse Raphael, Phil Donahue and the Jerry Springer Show. None of these shows respected the rights or the lives of my community. Jerry Springer was the worst—he sensationalized gay and trans folks, depicting both in a negative light.
At 22 years old, I was thrown out of my house for being gay and had to figure out where to live. I looked for roommates out of LA Weekly and postings at Sisterhood Bookstore, a feminist bookstore located in Westwood, close to UCLA.
There was one time I developed a crush on a waitress, who many warned me to stay clear of. She was a lesbian, and known to be the “token d*ke.” This, of course, only intrigued me further, and we quickly became friends. My homophobic parents told me she could be a negative influence in my life. They asked me, “Is she making you gay?” The persistent messages of the time were: “Don’t be different, don’t stand out, tell no-one.” Shame, shame, and more shame.
It would take me many years to discover West Hollywood. At that time, (and still today) there were many gay bars for the boys, but only one bar that catered to the lesbian community. It was called “The Palms.” It was a place you could go to chat with other lesbians. There was darts and dancing. Little by little, I discovered myself and began to feel that my identity was normal.
The aforementioned Sisterhood Bookstore offered me a much-needed community, and a safe haven to be myself. They carried several books on lesbian and gay people. It was so refreshing, but still very uncomfortable. It turned out to be fabulous and I miss the store so much. I also joined lesbian softball teams, gay bowling, gay tennis, and even gay scuba diving. Music was also a big part of my coming to terms with my identity. Before KD Lang and Melissa Etheridge, there were many female artists that represented this community, though they barely made enough money to keep performing: Chris Williamson, Holly Near, Meg Christianson and Teresa Troll.
I’ve been through a lot because of my identity: the systemic oppression I faced, the discrimination from my parents, along with my own internalized homophobia. I made it my life’s mission to help the transgender community in hopes of normalizing their experience.
I started helping those navigating their journey with gender, and when they did not believe it was possible, I held hope for them. I made sure that the healthcare these early clients were getting was affirming and wouldn’t send them anywhere I wouldn’t go to myself. I met with the few providers that did trans-affirming work at the time, and the results were astounding. Many folks experienced a decrease in depression, lessened anxiety and an improved self-esteem. Over time, my clients started to believe it was possible to be their authentic selves. I have witnessed joy and have massive appreciation that they didn’t give up on me, or on the belief that they could transition at any age, and under difficult circumstances. Many of these folks lost partners or their jobs, were suicidal and clinically depressed—but they persevered anyway. The folks I’ve worked with have shown me inspiring resilience, and because of that, I never stopped believing that we could get them to where they wanted to go, and that it would be life-altering.
42 years later, and being out and proud and running my practice: I say to young people, come out if you can, surround yourself with allies and hope that your parents will support and affirm you. We are making great strides, and though we have a long way to go, many parents are coming around, educating themselves and trying harder to understand their children’s identities.
Nowadays, I chuckle to myself when parents of trans kids say, “I wish my child was just gay”. They think it would be easier, and though that was not my reality, I’m glad to see that we’ve come a long way.
Happy Lesbian Visibility Week.
—Casey
Thank you for reading the GenWell blog. You can read more about our services here. If you or a loved one is struggling on the journey with gender identity, we ask you to reach out via our contact form or call our office at (818) 855-1105. We are fully committed to supporting your gender wellness.
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