Fag hag in shining armour

It all started in the last 60s. I was 21 and an unmarried mother. That’s when my involvement with the gay community started because I was discriminated against.

I surrounded myself with gay guys. They needed me in those days to be their handbags. Mother’s Day was busy because you would go from one family to another, pretending to be somebody’s girlfriend. The girls were needed to protect them in case the police tried to bust the party. We even had wedding rings in our purses to sneak on.

My son’s father was gay. We met in Tamworth but at the time everyone was getting married and having children – it was the normal thing to do.

I knew he was a homosexual because we used to travel to Sydney and spend most of our time at gay venues. At the end of the six months we decided to call it quits; I got pregnant and he found a boyfriend. It was a reality check for me. We were more worried about what our families would think.

My son was brought up with gays, which was good. He called them his uncles and aunties. I remember we used to take him for holidays to Wyong. There would be 30 of us swimming in the river.

The 80s were hell. I remember going to Fire Island in 1980 and coming back saying, “All these guys have this gonorrhoea and are really thin.” In 1981 I came back again and said, “A couple of guys have died from this – you’d better watch out.”

In the September of 1983 most of my friends were diagnosed with HIV. Then they all cross-infected each other because they thought it would be okay to sleep with one another. Condoms were out of the question and they didn’t start wearing them till the Grim Reaper adverts in 1987.

But 1986 was when my first friend died of AIDS. I had to care for him at home because they didn’t want them to die in a hospital. When he died they triple-bagged him and the council came and took all his linen and crockery – it was very sad.

In 1993, I decided to put on the first luncheon at the Exchange Hotel for my friends. They were not living with AIDS, they were dying of AIDS. They had to walk into that door and leave their attitudes at the footpath. No talking about death, funerals, medications and the illness. They came in for a home-cooked meal with live entertainment.

In the previous 18 months we’d had 907 deaths from AIDS. Some days there were five funerals on – you had to choose which one to go to. As somebody who didn’t have the disease and was suffering from multiple grief, I had to do something.

Four days before the first luncheon I didn’t even know how to make coleslaw.

I prepared meals for 89 people and even Clover Moore came. I knew it would be a success because of the smiles on the faces. At the end of the day they said, “See you next week.” The following week 186 people came.

It wasn’t until 1999 that we had to move to the Positive Living Centre because we couldn’t afford the place any more. That didn’t work, so we started having barbecues at the Pride Centre.

After 688 emails the local council decided to give us this place in Waterloo. In 2007 every Monday and Wednesday we feed more than 100 people.

Unfortunately, we had to close down the Larder Club after Mardi Gras this year because of a lack of funding. This Club provided essential food products for people with HIV/AIDS on a disability pension.

The Luncheon Club, which is just managing to operate, is not only for gay people with AIDS. We have children and families with the virus. It’s for people living with or affected with HIV/AIDS. We also dress them and give them cooking equipment. They come in for a home-cooked meal and to forget about poverty – it’s their place.

We need to keep this service open and care for these people. We cannot survive unless the community out there wants us to. The only way we can do this is by donations so we can buy the food.

It’s hard asking for money. We need $25,000 for the Larder Club to reopen and it costs the Luncheon Club more than $110,000 a year to survive – and that doesn’t include the government funding.

Manacle, Arq and Gaymatchmaker have been great. If it does shut down there will be huge stress on other charities. They can’t just live on their pension alone.

I have total belief in the community – please help.

For more details and donations call 0416 040 074 or visit www.luncheonclub.org.au.

Interview by Sunny Burns