I grew up without LGBTQ+ role models. These elders paved the way for us to be ourselves.

I didn’t know any gay adults growing up. I didn't have anyone to show me what my future would look like. I wish I had.

I don’t know whether having older LGBTQ+ people in my life would have changed when I came out. I do know it would have made me feel a little less alone.

Growing up in North Carolina, I had countless straight adults in my life to demonstrate what growing older would look like for my peers, but there weren’t LGBTQ+ adults in my community demonstrating how it would look for me. 

Thankfully, I now live in New York City, a place that is synonymous with gay liberation. For Pride Month, I thought it would be interesting to meet some queer elders.

I ultimately got in touch with GRIOT Circle, a nonprofit organization that provides programming for LGBTQ+ seniors of color in Brooklyn. I visited the group twice: once for a group interview and then again to speak to individuals who agreed to go on the record.

Executive Director Aundaray Guess told me their unofficial motto: “We don’t do bingo.” Their schedule made that clear ‒ the group’s June calendar included wood carving, a drag brunch and bowling. I showed up between a craft and a self-defense class.

The stories of coming out

I walked into a senior housing building in Fort Greene, unsure what to expect. There were 10 people sitting around a table, using yarn and dowels to make God's Eyes. One of the members was leading the activity.

"When I found out I was gay, I didn't tell my mother," said Shirley Fields, 85, a retired social worker living in Brooklyn. "But my uncle did not waste his mouth in telling her."

When her mother asked if she knew “what gay was,” Fields said “gay” was just another word for “happy.”

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Sande Hines, 76, another group member, said she realized who she was when she started going out in Greenwich Village with her brother, who was also gay.

“He was having fun and I followed him,” Hines said. 

Like the people I spoke with, I came out in early adulthood. Unlike the people I spoke with, my environment was much more accepting because of society's progression. Gay marriage was legalized just after my senior year of high school. Still, it wasn't something I heard talked about out in the open very often.

The stories of finding safe places

The conversation quickly became about what bars used to be in the area. 

One of my favorite parts of living in New York is how many queer bars there are – spaces that get harder to come by as the years go on. The women mentioned shuttered spots like Bonnie & Clyde and the Clit Club. Some were surprised that Henrietta Hudson, the longest-operating lesbian bar in the country, is still around. They all talked over each other, trying to remember the names of places they enjoyed years ago.

The next time I visited, Hines mentioned that these spaces weren’t always safe. Some bars were hidden; others were in less safe parts of town. Some, like the original Stonewall Inn, had mafia ties.

The group also reminisced on house parties and trips to Riis Park Beach, a section in Queens that has been associated with the LGBTQ+ community since the 1940s. 

'Don't give up your apartment'

I got one really good piece of dating advice from the group: "Don't give up your apartment."

Hines dated three women long term. Her last partner, whom she calls the love of her life, died recently. She's been trying to date online, and we talked about how difficult it is to date on apps. Hines has been messaging a woman on one app, but they can't find a time to meet up. She showed me a poster in the senior center that advertises speed dating and said she may try it.

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Cilk Newsom, 68, met his partner of 3 1/2 years at GRIOT Circle. He had more broad advice for young LGBTQ+ people.

"Be yourself," Newsom said. "Be true to who you are."

When I asked the group what advice they had, they responded with a resounding "Respect your elders." They began talking about friends and family members who had experienced harassment simply for being old. A few minutes later, members of the New York Police Department walked in to teach a self-defense class.

All ages need LGBTQ+ spaces

"GRIOT is very down to earth, very closely connected," Newsom said. He feels more freedom there.

We sat beside each other in the conference room while he explained the rules of chess to someone from Life Story Club, a nonprofit partnering with GRIOT Circle this summer for a storytelling series. The folks around us ate chips and chatted with one another.

I was also reminded how much the world has progressed since they were my age.

They weren't able to be out at work like I am. They had to hide huge parts of their lives and find hidden places where they could be themselves. GRIOT Circle is a way for them to have some of that time back.

As I was leaving the second time, the opening of Luther Vandross' "Never Too Much" was playing in the lobby. The song made an appearance on "RuPaul's Drag Race" a few years back, and I realized that the group I spent my Tuesday with had been listening to it in the 1980s.

We have become a more progressive society since then. We also live in a time when members of the LGBTQ+ community are under attack.

I came away grateful that there are spaces for older LGBTQ+ people to enjoy one another's company after years of being forced to hide. It's important for us to have these spaces where we feel safe and free at every age.

It's a cliché that people come to New York City to live as their authentic selves; there's also a reason the city has been so central to LGBTQ+ history. No matter the decade, there has been room here for people like us. I heard it used to be fun; I'd argue it still is.

Follow USA TODAY elections columnist Sara Pequeño on X, formerly Twitter, @sara__pequeno and Facebook facebook.com/PequenoWrites