Spanish
The way Donald M. Bell and Chicago’s neighbors connect with each other is as simple as it is important.
“We have rituals that bring certain people together,” said Bell, 73. Sometimes people gather to watch “Jeopardy!” in the community room of a senior apartment. Sometimes it’s hard to cook for one person, but sharing is easy, so we sometimes cook meals for each other.
They watch each other’s pets, accompany each other to doctor’s appointments and check in on their neighbors after medical procedures, including triple bypass surgery, which Bell underwent about six years ago.
This kind of behavior is healthy for everyone, regardless of age. But as residents of the city’s first LGBTQ-friendly senior housing development, Bell and her neighbors had to overcome longstanding obstacles to make these connections.
“We’ve been told for so long that ‘you don’t matter,’ so we’re trying to show each other that we matter,” Bell said.
Research shows that social connections can help protect your health. But a 2020 report by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine says that lack of that connection, or social isolation, is associated with an increased risk of premature death from all causes. Poor social relationships are also associated with increased risk of coronary heart disease and stroke.
“We are social animals,” says Benji Laniakea, Ph.D., assistant professor in the LGBTQ+ clinical program at Stanford University School of Medicine in Palo Alto, California. “We are meant to be together, to talk to each other, to communicate, to be together.”
However, research shows that LGBTQ people are more likely to say they are lonely. Laniakea said LGBTQ older adults are at higher risk of isolation due to several factors. Many were estranged from their biological families or lost friends to AIDS. Social discrimination may also have hindered their chances of meeting a life partner.
According to SAGE, an LGBTQ+ senior advocacy and services organization, LGBT older adults are more likely to be single and live alone, and less likely to have children, making them potential care recipients compared to straight people. is being taken away. And many people fear discrimination when seeking help. “Some LGBTQ+ adults have had to go back into the closet to receive care in nursing homes,” Laniakea said.
But social isolation is not just a problem for older people. Jonathan Garcia, associate professor and director of the Department of Youth and Young Adults at Oregon State University, Corvallis, said young people rely on a variety of support systems, including family, school, clubs and religious groups, to build self-esteem. Ta. Core of the Harry E. Ford Center for Healthy Children and Families.
For LGBTQ teens, what should be a safe space can become a source of rejection, bullying, and a repeated message that they don’t belong. “So they don’t feel like they’re getting the help they need where they need it most,” Garcia said.
Social isolation among LGBTQ youth is associated with issues such as depression, substance abuse, and suicide attempts. Garcia led a review of the effects of social isolation and connectedness on LGBTQ youth, published in Global Public Health in 2019. She said the problem can be exacerbated for young people who are also members of marginalized racial or ethnic groups, and when young people experience racism, they are isolated from their families and religious communities because of their orientation. They said they could feel excluded from LGBTQ groups or be excluded from LGBTQ groups.
Laniakea said the COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated many of the problems associated with isolation. While adults who had just come out were denied opportunities to connect with the LGBTQ world, “for LGBTQ youth, especially those who may not have come out to their families, it effectively means going back into the closet.” did”.
Laniakea said LGBTQ people have always had to find ways to build community. His 1969 Stonewall uprising, the best-known historical event of the gay rights era, was over the right to assemble without police harassment. And there is a strong tradition of forming “chosen families” among people who may have been separated from their foster parents. “Sometimes the connection you have with someone who sees you for who you are is as strong as his biological family,” Laniakea said.
Laniakea said being among welcoming people is critical to health by providing a refuge of understanding and stress relief from personal insults and anti-LGBTQ rhetoric. Affirming people can send the message that you are valid, your gender and way of life are reasonable, and you are not hurting others by being true to yourself. Masu.
Garcia, who led the study on community-building programs among Hispanic LGBTQ youth, said society as a whole has a responsibility to address the causes of loneliness.
“Social isolation is not the result of individual failure,” he says. “This is not just a personal experience. This is the result of systemic oppression.”
Garcia and Laniakea suggested volunteering can be a way to meet people and build community. “That in itself allows people to be useful and serve the community,” Garcia said. “This not only addresses isolation, but also some systemic issues.”
Those who want to become LGBTQ allies can benefit from the Gender and Sexuality Alliance Network (formerly known as the Gay and Straight Alliance), which has been proven to reduce harm from social isolation and the risk of suicide attempts. You can help by supporting schools with anti-bullying policies. .
Laniakea said you can also bring someone with you from an LGBTQ community group, because “no matter your age, going anywhere by yourself for the first time can be really daunting.”
Bell, who identifies as a gay or homosexual man, is a father of two, and is a third-generation Chicagoan of African, Native American, and Scots-Irish descent, is a member of Town Hall. We are building a community in our apartments. An LGBTQ-friendly development located inside a renovated police station near Wrigley Field.
He recognizes that creating space for a few dozen people in a city where tens of thousands of people identify as LGBTQ is far from a solution. But he’s grateful for it.
Residents are looking out for each other “with the understanding that this is essential,” he said.
Born in 1949, he lived in a time when “there was no outside place, no safe place. There was no place like this.” He and his friends could share jokes without giving context or just let their guard down and joke around. themselves. It’s a place “where you’re told you matter,” he said.
If you have questions or comments about this American Heart Association news article, please email us. [email protected].