MANEJO ADECUADO DE ALIMENTOS PARA REDUCIR EL RIEGO DE INFECCIONES (PCI 10)

Traies (2015) suggests that ‘the distinction between “organized networks”

and “informal, local and ‘hidden’ networks” is unhelpful’ (p.40) as, in reality lesbians’ social organisations span both categories and membership and communication are interconnected. It is true that intersections and overlaps exist; however, in the following section, community, friendship and formal networks are separated as I outline the existing literature regarding their potential to support older lesbians and bisexual women.

Community

There are many ways of conceptualising and theorising the purpose and function of communities predicated on sexual identity. Phelan (1989)

suggests that, as one of the ‘primary deviant classes’, lesbians have created their own communities partly to create a sense of belonging with which to counter feelings of exclusion and to challenge stereotypes. She notes that there are two prevailing strategies at play; one to create a culture viewed as superior to that from which they are excluded and the other, ‘reformist’

strategy to challenge the legal and institutional barriers of exclusion. Weeks (1996) proposes that communities founded on sexual identities are a

relatively recent phenomena, emerging in the 1960s, the so-called ‘golden age of liberal-humanitarian reforms’,¹⁶ as a response to the hardening division between ‘normative’ heterosexuality and its antithesis ‘deviant’

homosexuality. He distinguishes between traditional communities, which, he suggests, are beginning to crumble and ‘critical communities’ which are based on, and reinforce, identity as well as offering social capital and the opportunity for political activism to their members. Weeks suggests that being part of (an) otherised group(s) is sufficient to motivate LGBT

communities to transcend their internal conflicts and tensions and develop a common purpose as a sexual community; albeit one that is dynamic,

constantly changing and evolving alongside societal changes and

evolutions. Drawing on the notion of imagined communities introduced by Anderson (1983), Weeks highlights the sense of meaning and

embeddedness such communities offer:

[A]n imagined community, an invented tradition which enables and empowers. It provides the context for the articulation of identity, the vocabulary of values through which ways of life can be developed.

(p.83)

Weeks, Heaphy and Donovan (2001) reaffirm the significance of community

for LGBT people and identify it as a ‘place’ and/or ‘practice’; in other words, community can be conceptualised in spatial terms or as an ‘imagined’

community based on shared experience - both offering a bond or sense of solidarity and belonging. Omoto and Malsch (2008) note that, at a

conceptual level, ‘community’ is viewed differently from social support regardless of the fact that a sense of community often evolves from, or is enhanced by, membership of social networks and that both offer many of the same elements including feelings of belonging and connection.

While the establishment of communities is one way that LGBT people have traditionally dealt with the isolation brought about by estranged or difficult familial relationships, childlessness and isolation, Goffman (1963) was alert to the possibility of marginalising aspects of self becoming entrenched:

The stigma and the effort to conceal it become ‘fixed’ as part of personal identity’ (p.84).

This phenomenon can be used to problematise attachment to communities predicated upon ‘otherised identities’. Whereas many writers take a

relatively benign view of such communities, Brown (1993, 1995) and Munt (1998) offer alternative perspectives, seeing them as potentially divisive and self-perpetuating. Brown proposes that the politicised identities created as a protest against marginalisation actually contain within them a ‘politics of recrimination’ that not only portrays them as helpless, but actually harms them further by reifying the (white, middle-class, masculine) structures of privilege and normalisation they theoretically oppose. She suggests that identity based on a sense of ‘woundedness’ is problematic; the politicised identity – premised on exclusion –becomes attached to this exclusion,

hindering the development of truly emancipatory politics. Brown’s concept of wounded attachment may help me to explicate the reluctance of some coetaneous lesbian groups to open up to other ways of being, form inter-generational alliances and ‘let go’ of old hurts.

Phelan (1989), reflecting on the ‘limits of community’, observes that rather than facing up to the issue of difference, lesbian feminists erased it:

Any sense of the plurality of lesbian lives was lost in the construction of “the” lesbian… (p.139)

Similarly, Munt (1998) warns that, while seductive, notions of community based on sameness and shared identity should be regarded with caution as they are equally premised on the exclusion of difference and divergence.

Thus, feminist attempts to create a categorical identity of ‘lesbian’ resulted in the marginalisation of ‘other others’ and quickly led to a focus on, ‘what a lesbian is not’ (p.156).

Woolwine (2000) discusses various conceptualisations of ‘community’ as experienced by sexual minorities – in his particular research, gay men.

These community experiences included having a gay identity, living in a

‘gay area’, participation in local organisations, and networks of ‘like’ friends.

Woolwine also offers the notion of the ‘imagined community’, a united national or global community, to which many of his research participants perceived themselves belonging, with varying degrees of emotional connection.

There are a number of empirical investigations into the relationships within

LGBT communities that may prove particularly pertinent to my research into the social and support groups of older lesbians and bisexual women

although few focus on the impact of older age. Rothblum (2010) charts how the lesbian ‘community’ transformed itself from a feminist, political

movement centred on shared sexual identity in the 1970s to a more

‘mainstream’ culture in the present day where the desire for ‘similarity’ can be fulfilled by similar hobbies not just sexuality. Her qualitative study of 60 lesbian, bisexual queer and heterosexual women in the US found that they associated ‘community’ with people, organisations, support, similarity and proximity. Her research was prompted by the apparent contradiction that despite extensive LGBT provision, services and organisations in the USA and Canada, there is still a significant feeling of isolation and loneliness.

Although the majority of women in the study were part of physical or virtual communities, Rothblum identifies some participants as ‘flounderers’,

individuals who felt excluded from or could not access LGBT groups.

Women in this category included those who were closeted, bisexual women and those isolated by other factors such as racism. Bisexual women who were closeted or had relationships with men were particularly likely to

‘flounder’ in predominantly lesbian communities. This sense of exclusion signals that the need for ‘connectedness’ is not currently being met within existing LGBT communities, and particular combinations of characteristics render some individuals more vulnerable to isolation than others. Moreover, these differences may be further impacted by ageing, a variable which was not explored.

Formby’s (2012) multi-method study of over 600 LGBT individuals in the UK

also shows place and proximity as important considerations in the

construction of ‘community’. Formby’s respondents rated ‘support and a sense of belonging or connectedness’ (p.18) as the two most important aspects of LGBT community with activism and shared experience of discrimination also seen as important. Many respondents were however, suspicious of the term ‘community’, feeling that if it were to reflect the true diversity of LGBT individuals, it should be used in the plural. In line with Weeks et al.’s (2001) suggestion of ‘place and practice’, 48%

conceptualised community as a ‘feeling’ (of belonging or acceptance) whereas for 53% it was a physical/geographical entity. However, this study does not explore the dimension of age either. Formby’s respondents were mostly aged between 24 and 55 and none of the over-55 female

respondents participated in interviews or discussion groups, making it difficult to ascertain whether their views are adequately represented.

Belongingness

The more tradition loses its ability to provide a secure and stable sense of identity, the more individuals must negotiate lifestyle

choices and, attach importance to these choices. Heaphy (2007:99)

Research into belongingness has shown that lesbians have a lessened sense of ‘belonging’ to the general community and that this is associated with higher levels of dysphoria (McLaren, 2006). McLaren’s (2009) study of 178 self-identified lesbians aged between 18 and 63 indicates that a sense of belonging to the general community may protect to some extent against depression associated with a lack of belongingness to the lesbian

community. It might have been expected that a sense of connection or

protection against depression. However, women who felt a sense of belonging to the general community reported the lowest levels of depression, suggesting that ‘dual belongingness’ to such diverse

communities may be complex and problematic; contributing to the alienation from the lesbian community that some women perceive, often rendering them doubly disconnected. Weeks (1996) warns that communities built on sexual identity were no more exempt from internal division than any others:

[C]ommunities built around sexuality are no less likely than others to develop their own norms which may exclude as well as include.

(p.84)

It is evident that while there are benefits associated to feeling a sense of belongingness to LGBT communities and the general community, neither of these ‘memberships’ is unproblematic or guaranteed. LGBT communities are as difficult to connect to as straight ones; belongingness and ‘fit’ are predicated upon and flounder on similar characteristics including social class, affluence, ethnicity and sexual practice. Other studies have revealed evidence of ageism in LGBT groups and communities (Jacobs et al., 1999).

Heteronormative attitudes, patriarchy and homo/bi/transphobia in the general population exclude or alienate many LGBT individuals further leaving them disconnected and isolated. Although there are indications in many societies that attitudes towards sexual identities and practices are changing, this is a slow, incremental and by no means a global

phenomenon. There are few indications that the ‘imagined future’ is likely to be either immediate or inevitable, and it is almost certain that attitudes will not change sufficiently quickly to meet the needs of today’s older LGBT communities. In the meantime, what do the various forms of social support groups and organisations offer them in the way of a sense of belonging or

connection and the amelioration of loneliness and isolation?

It is well established that perceived social support moderates the effects of stress and decreases the risk of loneliness and social isolation, which, in turn, reduces the risk of the incidence of physical and mental ill-health, even morbidity. This support may come from diverse sources, offering different avenues of social engagement and connectedness, which are associated with differing levels of benefit and protection. The particular circumstances resulting in this generation of LGBT people being less likely to be partnered, have children or have regular contact with a biological family means their social support sources differ from their heterosexual counterparts. Like many elders in geographically mobile countries where family forms are increasingly diverse and fragmented, they cannot necessarily rely on the support of a wider family or children. Sources of support for LGBT elders can be divided broadly into two categories: familial and friendship support (including ‘families of choice’) and LGBT identified social/support groups and networks.

Friendship and ‘families of choice’

In the same way that social isolation and loneliness are not unique to the older LGB community neither are the benefits of friendship, although Roseneil (2004) sees changes to gender and family relationships as reducing the distinctions between gay and heterosexual experiences of friendship. Such networks and friendship groups are sometimes described as ‘families of choice’ to distinguish them from ‘given families’ or ‘families of origin’ (Weston, 1991). The organisation of these ‘friends as family’ groups

is diverse and competing conceptualisations and interpretations exist; do families of choice constitute ‘substitute families’ (thus maintaining the

privileging of the family as an organising structure) or challenge and subvert the family as the ‘core structure’ primarily based on biological ties

(Weinstock, 2000)? De Vries and Herdt (2012) assert that regardless of these differing interpretations, there is a ‘cultural specificity’ about the role of friendship in the lives of older gay men and lesbians whereby friends are,

‘defined in ways that one might expect would be applied to kin among heterosexual adults’ (p.104).

Many researchers (Plummer 1995; Stanley, 1996; Grossman et al., 2000;

Jones and Nystrom, 2002) have identified unique gains from friendship for LGB communities. Plummer asserts that gay and lesbian networks are ‘as strong as any family, and maybe stronger because they are chosen rather than simply given’ (1995:154). Grossman et al. believe that social support provided by peers may provide a positive and unique benefit in mitigating the impact of stigmatization. Jones and Nystrom speculate that critical social networks, built over time by the 62 older lesbians in their qualitative

interdisciplinary study, offer a sense of belonging and trust which may be an important factor in successful ageing. Weeks, Heaphy and Donovan’s (2001) study of 96 women and men living in a wide variety of family and intimate relationship scenarios found friendship a consistent and recurring theme and conclude: ‘Friendship is a key to understanding

non-heterosexual ways of life […]’ (p.51). Similarly, Heaphy et al. (2003) note that their LGBT participants, aged between 50 and over 80, placed enormous value on friendships with 96% of female participants rating

friendship as ‘important’ or ‘very important’. Fredriksen-Goldsen et al.’s (2013) study of older LGBT individuals in San Francisco revealed that nearly three-quarters (72%) would turn to a close friend for support,

encouragement or short-term help whereas only 17% would turn to a family member.

Birds of a feather: Lesbian friendships

Goldberg et al.’s (2005) report notes the continued significance of friendship networks in the lives of older lesbians. Social lives were centred on female friendship often with other lesbians; respondents shunned mainstream services for ‘seniors’ because they perceived discrimination. Stanley (1996) proposed that such friendships have unique benefits, protecting individuals against social devaluation, offering opportunities for role modelling and enabling the sharing of aspects of daily life, an important outlet for those women whose sexuality remains covert. Her research suggests that there is a significant relationship between friendship and ageing with older lesbians increasingly likely to value and utilise their friendships.

More recent studies confirm the idea that older lesbians’ friendship patterns are homophilous (Galupo, 2007; Traies, 2015). Galupo reports that older participants were slightly less likely to report cross-sex or cross-orientation friendships. In Traies’ research, 57% of respondents defined other, similarly aged lesbians as their closest friends; nearly half of the women saw their closest friends at least once a week.

Weeks et al. (2001) identify affirmation and acceptance as other key factors within friendships in a predominantly heterosexual and often hostile world, suggesting the emergence of a ‘friendship ethic’ rooted in the values of the non-heterosexual community, a theme developed by Roseneil and Budgeon who regard gay and lesbian friendships as both a ‘practice and an ethic’

(2004:137). Stein (2007) also suggests that same-sexuality friendships enable lesbians to form and reconstruct a sense of personal and social identity. Waitt and Gorman Murray’s (2011) article exploring the journeys and returns of (young) lesbian and gay-identified people echoes the friendship ethic with participants establishing safe places and friendship groups in a regional Australian city with few gay venues.

The evidence indicates that friendships are of huge benefit, offering LGB individuals an important, if not unique, source of identity affirmation and support. However, the benefits of emotional and, particularly, practical support offered by these networks may be limited and vulnerable in older age. While some individuals enjoy cross-generational friendships, others feel excluded from the youth-oriented non-heterosexual ‘community’ (Weeks et al., 2001; Heaphy et al., 2004). Spencer and Pahl (2006) point out that although individuals’ personal communities may contribute to their social integration, those groups drawn from a narrow local base are restricted and limited, ‘containing a set of dense inward-looking ties’ (p.209). Lesbian friendships and families of choice are often similarly aged, (for example, 81% of Traies’ respondents’ closest friends were within ten years of their own age), potentially diminishing their ability to offer support in later years.

Being partnered

Unsurprisingly, individuals living with a partner report significantly less loneliness. Grossman et al. (2000) found that those participants who lived with a partner rated their physical and mental health more positively than those who lived alone. Kuyper and Fokkema (2010) also suggest that the existence of a ‘steady partner’ is the single most important factor affecting emotional loneliness, although friendship and social networking also ameliorate against feelings of emptiness. Their study revealed that elders with more LGB friends or acquaintances experienced lower levels of loneliness. Knocker et al. (2012) indicate that partners are often the main source of emotional and social support, pointing out that partnered women are less likely to attend ODL groups in the first place and single women may drop out if they meet a partner. However, as we have seen, LGBT

individuals are more likely to be single than heterosexuals (Grossman et al., 2001, estimate that between 63 and 75% of older LGBT adults live alone), with older age bringing the numbers of those partnered even lower.

Formal networks, groups and places

LGB communities have a long history of coming together socially in networks and groups. Whilst friendships, groups and networks are all important components of social support, places may offer an additional sense of connectedness or belonging. Geographers and psychologists agree that place has an important part to play in the development of identity and a sense of self. Rose identifies this need for place as a response to the process of otherisation and the sense of exclusion from other groups and places:

Some groups, especially if they feel threatened… may insist on their own alternative sense of place. (1995:105)

Many of today’s LGB elders, spent their formative years in the UK’s emerging post-war ‘bar culture’. This experience still has resonance for understanding the networks and groups they attend today. Jennings’ (2006) account of the development of lesbian sub-cultures in the UK suggests that current lesbian organisations and groups are derived from political models rooted in the 1970s (a fact alluded to by Knocker et al.’s (2012) account of separatism in ODL groups). Much of the evidence of a UK post-war lesbian subculture is drawn from personal narratives, the remainder from police accounts, which tell us much about how this early visibility was constructed.

Jennings (2006) uses oral histories to document the development of lesbian bar culture, contextualising the strict butch/femme dress and behaviour codes of this early period within the need for structure and identity. She suggests that the development of lesbian social networks was significant in sharing news of the ‘emerging subculture’; by the end of the 1960s a range of clubs was opening, each with its own community and, influenced by gay liberation politics, with increasing mixing between lesbians and gay men.

While clubs such as The Gateways had been important as symbols of lesbian ‘community’, they troubled many younger, more politicised LGBT individuals who did not want to be associated with the subculture they represented. The arrival of younger lesbians on the scene created inter-generational conflicts leading to division, as there was little sympathy for the butch/femme styling and a refusal to comply with the accepted conventions.

In the course of campaigning for visibility, acceptance and social equality,

groups such as the GLF disrupted the established social networks that had

groups such as the GLF disrupted the established social networks that had