Looking around the room at Stormé’s memorial, something struck me: I saw longtime friends of Stormé’s, but what I noticed largely missing was my generation. If we forget our own history, we are doomed to repeat it. We, as a community, by failing to care for, protect and befriend our elders, are leading ourselves down a path in which these phenomenal lives and stories will be forgotten. People who celebrate the LGBT movement’s victories forget the roles our elders played in making them possible. Much like Stormé’s dementia caused her memory to dim in her later years, the rich histories of our elders are fading from our consciousness. We slowly began forgetting those who paved it. In recent years, Stormé received honors from Brooklyn Pride, Inc., New York City Black Pride, and just a few weeks ago, the Brooklyn Community Pride Center.īut I believe that a funny thing happened on the road to equality. Stormé was transferred to Cabs Nursing Home in Brooklyn, and for the final years of her life, visited by a handful of dedicated and committed friends. With his help, Lisa and Michele successfully became Stormé’s guardians. Strauss, who in 2012 was named New York City’s Elder Law Lawyer of the Year. The congressman connected Lisa and Michele with attorney Peter J. Stormé was now living far from her community and with much concern, Lisa-along with Michele Zalopany, a resident of the Chelsea Hotel-began the process to obtain legal guardianship.

I had the pleasure of finally meeting her during this time, when my friend Lisa Cannistraci (the owner of Henrietta Hudson and a longtime community activist) called me hoping that my former boss, Congressman Jerrold Nadler, might be able to help Stormé.Īt the time, the Jewish Association for Services for the Aged had become her guardian. Vincent’s Hospital, where she received care, she underwent testing to determine that she was also battling dementia. In 2010, while facing housing and legal issues, Stormé took a bad fall. I wish that I could say the same was true of the community in Stormé’s last years. Stormé lived an incredibly rich life and never turned her back on our community. Later she would become a founding member of the Stonewall Veterans Association. Her confrontation with police at the Stonewall Inn during the early morning hours of June 28 was considered a flashpoint in the riots, igniting the crowd to fight back. In the 1969 Stonewall rebellion, Stormé played an integral role. During those decades, she was photographed by Diane Arbus and Avery Williard. (She was the act’s sole male impersonator.) In 1987 a film by Michelle Parkerson, “Stormé: The Lady of the Jewel Box,” captured Stormé’s life in the 1950s and 1960s touring the black theater circuit. She was known to carry a handgun or two, and was remembered by many as more than just security at local watering holes in the West Village.įor decades, Stormé performed with the legendary Jewel Box Revue, a touring company of female impersonators. She was a fierce defender and protector-a warrior. Stormé presented as a masculine lesbian and had no time for what she referred to as ‘ugly’-in other words, people being rude, disrespectful and mean. Though light-skinned, she always identified as black, as a way to honor her mother. The evening before, just blocks away, hundreds had gathered to celebrate the life of one of our movement’s heroes, Stormé DeLarverie, who passed away May 24.Īlthough she was a true gem of our community, many LGBT individuals have no idea who Stormé DeLarverie was, nor do they know of her contributions to our movement.īest known by her first name, Stormé, she was born in New Orleans in 1920 to a white father and a black mother, and as such was never issued a birth certificate. Department of Interior, announce that the National Park Service is launching an initiative to identify historic LGBT sites. Early on Friday, May 30, folks gathered at the famed Stonewall Inn to hear Sally Jewell, Secretary of the U.S.

Storme de laverie