American Queer Life: Heroines I Have Known

She clings to your heart

She won’t let you depart

La Femme Accident, 1985

Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark

I have loved the male sex, to some degree of awareness, for almost six decades, yet ironically, women have formed the bulk of my relationships. Unlike Wonder Woman, Black Widow, or Captain Marvel, my super-heroines have battled real-life challenges—kids, career, sickness, to name a few—succeeding or overcoming them with compassion and courage, an endless enthusiasm to serve and a ceaseless sense of humor. There’s no better place to begin than with:

Family Heroines

Mom because she was smart, funny, creative, a terrific cook and homemaker, and filled with infinite love. Sarah Schmierer Kitzman was born in 1913 to poor farmers in Loveland, her mother dying in the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic. At 12, she had a tough row to hoe, literally: she weeded acres of sugar-beets (backbreaking work) and took care of her two, younger siblings. Sarah was passionate about school, graduating from the eighth grade. She raised five children with a husband of 62 years, worked hard for her money (cue Donna Summer), and retired well. Despite heartbreaking poverty, Sarah was gracious, positive, and appreciative; she laughed often and exemplified how to transcend adversity.

My grandmothers Christina Zoeler Schmierer and Elizabeth Pfaltzgraff Kitzman because around 1910, with kids in tow, little money, and few belongings, these strangers to each other landed in the United States as German immigrants from Odessa, Russia. Miserable obstacles did not prevent them from providing a better future for their children, eventually a combined total of 22.

Alison Kitzman, my niece, because she became a full professor at a Japanese university, a rare feat for an American female in a highly protective and male-dominated society like Japan.

Friends

Sara Myers because, as my roommate, we braved New York together, making each other laugh through many challenges. After contracting ALS, Sara lived with joy, passion, and gratitude, still able to play a brilliant rubber of bridge. 

Terry Delisa because, more than 30 years ago, she allowed me to anoint her “Cherry Delicious,” the best porn name ever. Terry exemplified the struggles of a single woman fighting custody battles for her kids and succeeding in a male-dominated business world. Today, she relishes grandmother-hood provided by her son and his husband.

Hope Rogers because she went to the bottom of the planet as housing manager for McMmurdo Station in Antarctica, meeting her husband and becoming a Kiwi. Hope is the smartest and funniest person in the room (except when I’m present,) and her antics could provide hilarious fodder for long-running sitcoms.

Kagey Gronstal because we had a blast performing at the Chuck-Wagon Dinner Theater in Greeley, crazily moving to New York in 1976 to further that dream. Kagey was a talented actress the world never knew, being the first person I loved who was my age and died. (We were 25.) 

Related article: American Queer Life- The Divine Swoon

Lu Mancinelli, because though she lost her battle with lupus, she never lost her sense of humor or undaunted tenacity battling medical and governmental bureaucracies for a modicum of benefit.

Miran d’Muse because she raised a beautiful, intelligent, and creative daughter, has survived 40 years at NBC in Rockefeller Center, has proved herself most loyal in challenging friendships, and has always supported yours truly in any creative endeavor I undertook.

An anonymous mother because, in the last 10 years of our 30-year friendship, she is raising her transgender son with unconditional love and support and an eagerness to learn from every unique opportunity that arises.

Teachers/Mentors

Holly Hart because she taught me the joys of Shakespeare and the English language. She also mentored me in the dramas of high school theater and coming out, explaining The Boys in the Band along the way. After we recently reconnected at the funeral of a dear friend, I realized Holly is the only one left alive who shares memories of my early teens.

Deb Fultz because she mentored me to be a director of human resources when no one else would take a chance on an ol’ fag (I was 38), guiding me to a successful and satisfying career.

Dr. Marcia Wilcoxen because polio did not prevent her from becoming a wife, a mother, a tenured professor. Dr. Wilcoxen had a rapier wit, a mind of infinite knowledge, and a magical talent to bring the history of women vividly to life.

Others

I must mention the following: Aunt Rose, who was the funniest woman I ever knew; Aunt Iona, whose sweetness I reaped as her godson; the Berger women, who all had careers in nursing; our Latina housekeepers, Suzi and Artimia, whose daughter owns the business; Addison and Maggie who, as the new owners of OFM, excitingly represent local entrepreneurship of the second-oldest, independent, LGBTQ publication in America. 

Here are some heroines I have not known: RBG, Bette Davis, Melissa Etheridge, Billie Jean King, k.d. lang, Pat Schroeder, Tina Turner, and thousands of lesbian and straight sisters who joined forces with their gay brothers during the AIDS crisis.

I’m sorry you will never know my heroines, nor I yours, for I know you have your own to honor. Space limits my list, but as OMD’s song affirms, les femmes will always cling to my heart and never depart.