“He pulled me close to him and he said ‘I’m not who you think I am.'”
That was one of the final messages given to Layton Burton from his father 30 years ago as he was on his deathbed due to brain cancer.
Burton recalled the moment, noting the outlook for his father didn’t look good, and that he was worried that his father might be losing his lucidity.
But those words and the arm-squeeze he received from his dad would change his life forever.
Burton’s father died the next day, with Burton saying he was left reeling with grief, but also trying to understand his father’s message.
Burton’s mother would never speak on the topic, so he went about digging through his father’s stuff, finding letters and other items that unlocked the meaning of those final words – his father was queer.
“I just remember thinking ‘how can this be? How did I not know?'” Burton said.
His father’s death happened when Burton was in his 30s; back then there weren’t people coming out as they do today. Many of them were hiding, he said.
“Let’s take it back to the early 19th century. If you were queer, you belonged in prison. If you were queer, there was something wrong with you. If you were queer, you were dirty.”
He said nobody would want to admit to being queer back then when it meant they could possibly end up losing everything, including their freedom.
That moment changed how Burton conducted himself. He said it wasn’t difficult to come to terms that his father was queer, because he loved him, but it was difficult to reflect on some of the things he had said in the past in front of his father.
“The biggest obstacle as a human being, but more importantly as a son, was how many times I said the word fag, or faggot, or homo in front of him, and how that must have felt for him – to see and hear his own son say stupid, ridiculous and hurtful things like that.”
“That was the biggest realization,” Burton added.
He said he was the last person to know, other family members had suspected it. He gave an example of him notifying a neighbour that his father had died, and that person asking if he had died from AIDS.
“I promised myself that I would use what time I had left on this earth to take his legacy and try to make the world better,” Burton said
“(My father) spent his entire life in the shadows.”
Burton said he reflected on who he was when he was young and found he didn’t like that person.
He became a vocal queer ally, saying in the 30 years since he thought things were improving for queer people. Now though, he thinks we’re falling backward.
“I think unfortunately, with the rise of populism, and nationhood, and alt-right politics and alt-right misinformation, I think it’s going backward. And that hurts.”
“Once again politics and religion are rearing their ugly heads in the name of whatever they pray to and say ‘that is wrong’. Well, you know what? F*** you. My dad was who he was, best guy on the planet, period,” Burton stated.
Burton believes there are thousands of “Jack Burtons” out there, people going through exactly what his father went through, and it’s wrong.
He reminisced about his father, giving examples of getting to tag along and see some of the architectural projects his father worked on, and getting to see a Chicago Cubs game.
“He was that kind of guy who was always looking to be involved with his kids.”
A University of Saskatchewan and Queer Seniors of Saskatchewan study took a closer look at 2SLGBTQ seniors in Saskatchewan, highlighting many of the struggles people in that community face in the province.
The survey was given to 111 people over the age of 55 who were part of the 2SLGBTQ community, with 26 questions focused on coming out and feeling accepted; service access and delivery; discrimination and exclusion; housing and employment; and relationships, family and community.
“This research gives us insight into the policy and service responses needed to see queer older adults age successfully and safely within the community. We now have knowledge that can be used by health professionals, service providers, community organizations and governments to understand, (to) address the needs of queer older adults, now and into the future,” said Rachel Loewen Walker, director of the USask Social Innovation Lab.
“There is a significant research gap on queer seniors in Canada, with even less information available pertaining to the province of Saskatchewan. Queer seniors face continuing discrimination because the system does not understand and has not attempted to understand their experiences and lives,” Cheryl Loadman with Queer Seniors of Saskatchewan said.
Out of the survey respondents, 68 per cent were comfortable coming out to a chiropractor, dietician or counsellor, compared to 44 per cent having the same comfort level coming out to a family doctor.
Most of the respondents faced discrimination, with 72 per cent having been discriminated against due to their age. Some 63 per cent said they experienced discrimination due to being part of the 2SLGBTQ community.
More than half of the respondents felt they wouldn’t be able to find an assisted living or long-term care home that would be accepting of 2SLGBTQ people.
“These anxieties echo previous research and have resulted in a phenomenon of ‘going back into the closet’ for queer older adults who are concerned about discrimination from staff of long-term care facilities,” read the study.
The report estimates that there are around 165,000 Canadians over 55 who are part of the 2SLGBTQ community as of 2018, but it was noted that number could be skewed by those unwilling to identify.
“This number is likely higher due to underreporting. Many older queer people lived through times when their identity was stigmatized or even illegal, so they may not feel safe disclosing their identity.”
Most respondents say they came out between the ages of 20 and 29 (36 per cent), while the next highest group came out between the ages of 30 to 39 (22 per cent).
Most of those who took the survey lived in Saskatoon or Regina.
As far as acceptance goes, 45 per cent of respondents felt very accepted in their community, while 37 per cent felt somewhat accepted.
Just over half felt connected to the 2SLGBTQ community, while 27 per cent felt a little connected, and 15 per cent didn’t feel connected at all.
Four respondents noted there wasn’t a 2SLGBTQ community where they lived.
“Out of the 111 survey participants, half live with their spouse or partner and 37 per cent live alone. Most participants in this study were in a relationship (60 per cent), including 36 per cent who were married and 19 per cent who were in a common law relationship. Forty-one per cent of respondents were not in a relationship when they completed the survey, which included people who were widowed, divorced, or separated.”
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