"Hidden Once, Hidden Twice" is a documentary photo and film project honoring the lives of senior lesbian partnerships across the U.S. I began working on this narrative in 2022, reflecting on the lack of visibility lesbian women have faced throughout time and, in particular, as they age. I recognized that if I had had older queer role models growing up, my own coming out journey might have been easier for me.
I also wanted to pursue this narrative as younger generations of LGBTQ+ folks have been increasingly visible across the media landscape, while older generations of lesbian women exist in all corners of this country, and the world knows too little about their incredible lives. What has been eye-opening and inspiring in the process is discovering all the ways these women were visible and made themselves visible, despite a society that, for so long, often told them there wasn't a place for their dreams, hopes or connections with one another.
"We are everywhere" — an iconic lesbian activist slogan from the '70s — has served as the perfect reminder for me that we are not alone and we never were. I am eager to travel to all 50 states to powerfully represent the slogan's "everywhere." I also see tremendous value in documenting women in rural areas, conservative regions and environments where older lesbians have found an unexpected safe haven for themselves. The candid reflections of their upbringings, their unique cultural backgrounds and the overarching complexity of living authentically are all equally important pieces of a fabric that is slowly being sewn into a quilt.
The women in this project are mothers, politicians, caretakers, therapists, doctors, artists, activists, writers — the list goes on. Decades before same-sex marriage was legalized and the push for LGBTQ+ equality in this country drastically shifted, these women were fighting women's rights and human rights, and many have expressed candidly what shifted internally after surviving the AIDS crisis and how they found hope in tremendous loss. What surprised me most was learning of their unique individual paths to success when the second wave feminist movement often isolated and ostracized lesbians. Many had no other choice but to pave their own way.
I think of this work as a love letter to each and every one of these couples — for the lives they have built together, their bravery in living authentically when it was often far from safe or socially accepted, and for never giving up in creating a whole life for themselves in the beautiful, intricate ways that align with their souls. They serve as a powerful reminder that progress and change happen over time.
Helen and Terry
Helen Newton and Terry Berg are professional horse reiners, and Terry has won international awards for equestrian riding. Almost 40 years ago, Helen bought a horse from Terry for her daughter, and while her daughter eventually got out of horses, Helen did not. Horse trophies sit atop all of the cabinets in their kitchen.
Growing up in Anchorage, Terry says Alaska made her self-reliant and come to understand that she was gay early on. They say their love has remained constant from the beginning, and that they feel lucky to be able to do what they do for their clients.
Ruth and Mona
On a road trip documenting various partnerships throughout Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, I met Ruth Vanita and Mona Bachmann at their home in Missoula. They met decades ago as professors at the University of Montana, yet there were formative years before when they were breaking barriers culturally and on a gender level in radically different ways.
Ruth grew up in India, going to college at the age of 15 and co-founding the country's first feminist magazine, Manushi. Mona left behind her New York upbringing to study at Brown University and moved to Washington to become a carpenter and start her own contracting business. Mona was often involved in lesbian activist organizing and fighting to overturn anti-gay initiatives in Montana, including a decades-long sodomy law that was only overturned in 2013. Ruth's award-winning book, Same-Sex Love in India, opened the world's eyes to over 2,000 years of LGBTQ+ Indian literature.
Ruth adopted their son in India as a single woman. At the time, same-sex marriage was not recognized in either the U.S. or in India. Mona would later adopt him in the U.S. as a second parent, but when they realized that U.S. visa regulations required them to spend two full years in India before they could come back to the U.S. for his own visa, their time there proved to be a pivotal experience for their partnership, allowing Mona to connect deeply with Ruth's community and, over the years, serendipitously creating a sacred second home for their family. Their trips to India became so routine over the course of their son's life, he now aspires to be a pilot.
Cindy and Jo
It was 120 degrees outside the day I met with Cindy Lou Mena and Joann Ray Men at their home in Blythe, Calif. The curtains were shut across all of their windows — Jo was recovering from cataract surgery. One of my favorite parts of this creative process is looking through old photos with each couple, where I witness younger versions of them via Polaroids and tangible snapshots that illustrate their trajectory so tenderly. Soon enough, our 40- or 50-year age gap dissipates.
After Cindy and Jo spent 39 years together, they finally were married in 2023. They met as bus drivers, and Cindy says she fell in love at first glance. Jo said she doesn't like to get mushy, but Cindy says — adamantly — that she never wanted to be anywhere else, and that Jo was her one and only.
Davi and Bracha
Eight years ago, I photographed Davi Cheng and Bracha Yael in the crowd at a Shabbat service at the world's first LGBTQ+ synagogue, Beth Chayim Chadashim (BCC) in Los Angeles. They met 45 years ago at the University of California, Berkeley, living in the multicultural dormitory International House, and fell in love soon after their first date: playing basketball together. Where Davi taught Bracha judo early on in their partnership, Bracha also was expanding Davi's worldview with her love of her Jewish faith. The BCC became their second home and a safe haven when they moved to Southern California in the '90s after living often closeted lives in the Bay Area in the midst of the AIDS crisis.
Years later, when Bracha became chronically ill, she was unable to go to services and developed a livestream for the temple for congregates to tune in remotely, providing queer Jews around the world a space where they could observe their faith when they had nowhere else to go.
Lillian and Phyllis
It would be nearly impossible to peruse the aisle of LGBTQ+ history at a bookstore or library and not come across Lillian Faderman, one the most renowned historians of queer history. But her journey with Phyllis Irwin began when they were administrators at Fresno State, where Lillian was the chair of the English department and Phyllis was the assistant vice president for Academic Affairs. Spearheading the creation of the university's Women's Studies Program bonded the two — and established a program that still exists to this day.
As they were making strides in the years following the Women's Liberation Movement, they endured the "witch hunts" of the '40s, '50s and '60s that sought to identify and ostracize lesbian faculty on college campuses nationwide. They said lesbians often felt isolated from the second wave feminism movement, which focused on issues beyond women's right to vote, that didn't stop Lillian or Phyllis from gaining a passionate interest in their own self-empowerment — or holding academic positions that were often rare for women at the time.
Gevin and Cathy
I originally met Gevin Fax and Cathy Tangum at my very first LA Pride parade, where I was riding on the back of an Indian motorcycle photographing the SoCal Motorcycle Contingent for Equality. They met 28 years ago at a Santa Monica School District meeting and overcame homelessness together after escaping abusive relationships and deciding the best way forward was to live in Gevin's van, which she would park on the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the ocean. They were married at Linda Hamilton's house and now own multiple properties together.
Gevin is a pioneer in the riding community as the first Black, lesbian woman to be sponsored by Indian Motorcycles. They travel across the country together on their bike and have made multiple trips to Sturgis, S.D., home to the largest annual motorcycle rally in the U.S.
Nanette and Dee
Nanette Gartrell and Dee Mosbacher first met on the day Nanette had been "tasked" by their roommates with picking Dee up from an airport and her only reference of Dee's appearance was the cover to Willie Tyson's Full Count album that Dee happened to be featured on — but they would tell you they fell in love as roommates in a house full of lesbians in Washington, D.C.
Nanette was finishing up her senior year of medical school at the National Institutes of Health and Dee was in her pre-med program at George Washington University. They say their laughter was constant from the beginning, and they fell in love watching The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie. But Nanette and Dee grew into incredible change-makers, too.
Dee was nominated for an Oscar in 1994 for her short film Straight from the Heart, a short documentary about parents' acceptance of their gay children. Her father, Robert Mosbacher, was the Secretary of Commerce for President George H.W. Bush, and she was credited with being the first "first daughter" of a cabinet member to speak out about an administration's anti-LGBTQ rhetoric. Nanette, a famed psychiatrist, has directed the longest-running study of lesbian women and their children, who are in their 30s now.
Against the backdrop of a lavender house and a purple car, Nanette and Dee will celebrate their 50th anniversary this year.
Morgan Lieberman is a visual storyteller based in Los Angeles. You can see more of her work on her website, MorganLieberman.com, or on Instagram, at @thechromaticsheep.
Copy edited by Zach Thompson. Photo edited by Tsering Bista.
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