Rowena Williams found community after joining, Rainbow Elders Calgary, a group for members of the LGBTQ+ seniors, when she moved to the city in 2009.Leah Hennel/The Globe and Mail
Rowena Williams says she took back her life the day her dad was lowered into the ground. No longer trapped by her loyalty to him to keep up the pretense of life as a straight woman, and with no obligation to her mother who never accepted her, she began living proudly as lesbian.
Ms. Williams, 63, was born in Kingston, Jamaica, growing up in an environment where violence and discrimination against the LGBTQ community was prevalent. At age 17, a couple years after her family moved to Canada, she came out to her parents. She said her dad loved her and she loved him, but that he gave her an ultimatum two years later: Leave the family home or get married and have children. She went on to have a daughter and a son, and was married to her husband until he died in 1992.
“Do you know what it is to be Black, gay and a woman back in the seventies? That’s a lion. You have to be strong. You have to be bold,” she said. “I am still that lion. A lion with a great heart. A lion with a great mind. A lion that doesn’t tolerate nonsense.”
Her experience coming out later in life, and of facing unique challenges related to isolation, acceptance and housing, is one known by other Calgarians. And it’s why she helped co-found Rainbow Elders, a non-profit organization working to make significant differences in the lives of LGBTQ seniors – an often neglected group compared to the resources offered to younger people. There aren’t many such organizations in Canada.
It’s a community Ms. Williams said she so desperately needed when she uprooted her life in Toronto to move to Calgary in 2009, a decade after her dad died. Sitting in her downtown apartment, where a large Pride flag hangs on her living room wall above photos of her children and grandchildren, she said she doesn’t regret getting married but that it’s freeing to finally live life on her own terms.
The monthly Rainbow Elders meeting in July saw a handful of new faces gather around a table in Calgary’s downtown Kerby Centre. It began with introductions, with some attendees referring to themselves as “late bloomers” and sharing stories about coming out later in life – whether at age 60, 62 or 76.
Catherine Robertson at her home workshop in Calgary.Leah Hennel/The Globe and Mail
One woman said the meeting was only the third queer event she had attended in her lifetime. Words of encouragement and resilience were offered by others around the table. “You belong here,” said one member. The conversation then weaved between lighter topics – puppies and a planned retro dance – into tougher subjects, such as battling internal homophobia, losing friends and family and redefining life on their own terms.
One man spoke about an exorbitant rent hike that could force him out of his home and, later in the meeting, the conversation circled back to how some feel the need to “hide themselves” when moving into seniors’ homes.
A brief debate took place about whether to hire security for the coming dance, considering recent attacks on the community across Canada and the United States, and escalating protests in Calgary targeting all-age drag shows. The group decided against it but discussed safety plans for the night.
Despite the outside threats, however, members inside the small conference room knew this is where they could feel loved, respected and heard. Hugs and laughter filled the small room, sometimes at the expense of their identity as seniors – as with one of the jokes that Catherine Robertson shared.
“Why did the old guy fall over the hole in the ground?” she paused. “He didn’t see that well.”
Lois Szabo, left and Donna Thorsten during a Rainbow Elders meeting in Calgary, on July 5.Leah Hennel/The Globe and Mail
During introductions, Ms. Robertson told her coming out story as a transgender woman in 2015 at age 61 after a near-fatal paragliding accident that year. She had long enjoyed high-intensity sports that also served as a way for her to “prove her masculinity” at a time when being part of the LGBTQ community was extremely dangerous. She had been dressing secretly in women’s clothes since she was five years old.
It was in South America where Ms. Robertson crashed into a power line, her wing left melting and burning while she dropped 70 or so feet to bushes below, resulting in a crushed pelvis, broken back and a major concussion.
“I should have died,” she said during an interview at her home in Cochrane. She remembers thinking at the time: “This first 60 years, I’ve been living a lie. So, for the next 60, because I’m at least halfway through this plane of existence, I’m not going to lie. I am going to be me.” She called it an epiphany: “I’m not a cross-dresser. I’m a woman.”
Ms. Robertson said she was met with acceptance from most of her friends and family, including Sherry, her wife of 21 years. But she knows that isn’t the case for many transgender people. However, she was left to make her “outer and inner match” without crucial support or guidance from others in the LGBTQ community – at least until she was referred to TransJourneys, a peer support program in Calgary led by The End of the Rainbow Foundation, and later Rainbow Elders.
Ms. Robertson now sees her paragliding accident as a sort of neon, flashing sign that said, “You’re not done yet.” Her message, which she repeats often to LGBTQ people both young and old, is simple: “You’re not alone.”