I had moved to NYC from Jersey at 18 years old in 1992. Rough stuff at home and went to where I felt safe, “the city”. I didn’t know how to write a resume or anything that would propel me to find a place to live. I slept in my car all over the place in the city and Jersey for several months. I got so sick / malnourished. I worked at restaurant doing janitorial work until I found a studio in Chelsea on 23rd Street.

I struggled in high school with bullying by a few because I was gay. My mom is severely mentally ill and that’s the baggage that came with me. I was so hard on myself to find living that I really couldn’t afford. I got a job—lied about my age—at a plant place in Soho that did interior and rooftop gardens. I got books out of the library so I would know more about the industry.

In that, I knew the pain I had. I didn’t see myself as a child, but I was a child. I reached out to Hetrick-Martin Institute (HMI) for therapy help. There was a woman who volunteered there as a counselor. Yup on Astor Place. She lived and worked in the Bronx, and she was all I had for an adult that supported me.

I used to get a subway token for free, whenever I left my session! She stuck with me. I didn’t know how to talk about anything gay. I was lost. I used to see the kids at HMI playing pool and other group activities. My time to go was after work hours.

It was safe on Astor Place. There was an elevator to get into the building. I felt like no one could hurt me physically or mentally. The doors locked and I liked it. I used to sign into a book at the desk area. It was hard in those days. My social outlets all had alcohol and things that were not up my alley. I thought well this is what you do now. You’re gay. You go to bars. You drink a lot.

I couldn’t believe there was a place that I could just go to. I knew I was lucky. I had no idea what I was doing with my life and some of my other friends seemed to have a clear path.

Everywhere I lived and worked I was always the youngest. Eventually I left NYC and moved to New England on a whim. The woman at HMI had phone therapy sessions with me for a couple of months even after I left. Eventually we transitioned to me finding therapy of sorts up north.

I’m not well off or fancy. But I’ve tried to explain to folks how lucky I was to have HMI as a resource. I still work with plants. I wound up going to college to study soil science and horticulture. I don’t know where that woman is or if she’s still living but she pops in my head some days. And I give that gift back to youngsters by supporting them. Apologies for being cheesy, but you were all I had that was solid.

It’s been 30 years since my days at HMI. I do remember when Sandy hit in October 2012, and y’all got flooded. We tried to get some money together for you.

Last year I spoke at Pride for the first time in my life, and I brought my Stonewall 25 hat and spoke of NYC. Truly. Cliche. I wouldn’t be here today without any of you. This year Suffield, Connecticut asked if I would put their pride together. We were the only non-corporate funded pride in Connecticut and Massachusetts. We had about $800 and 3.5 weeks to plan a Pride for these towns that need a pride. 

Photo above is of Jill (on the left in green shirt), organizer of Suffield Pride with keynote speaker, Kamora Le’Ella Herrington, who is also a friend of Jill. She’s says Kamora is phenomenal.

All those things we “couldn’t” talk about back then. Just the words. Mental illness. Gay woman. And how so much hate has come back around to exploit trans/queer folks in the name of politics. Unreal.

You are part of my story. Part of my life.

– Jill Adams