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LGBTQ Literature: A meditation on "home" featuring Detroit's iconic lesbian legend Ruth Ellis [1]

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Date: 2025-07-27

(Note: Due to increased wok hours and a few other things, I was not able to do the necessary library research for my project due today. I am a little embarrassed out it but I have this somewhat of a meditation as a substitute. CK)

One of the worst parts about growing up to become a young gay man in the 1980’s in Detroit, MIchigan was that I had no role models that I knew of; there was always that feeling that I was the only person of my kind in the world. There was no one to tell me or show me that I was OK just as I was.

Within the family, gay people were, for the most part, spoken about with varying levels of derision and mockery and, of course, there were a few of the bombastic church folks that would condemn gay people to hell (although as an attentive church goer, I don’t remember entire sermons devoted to the topic). Much of this took place before I ever realized that I was sexually and affectionately attracted to men. Once the AIDS crisis came to the forefront in the early 1980’s (about the time I entered high school) and as I became increasingly aware that I was gay, increasing levels of mockery and condemnation of gay people began and an increasing level of sheer disgust would accompany the mere mention of gay men, in particular.

Who would want to “come out” given those conditions? I certainly didn’t. Of course, I did come out in 1983, at the age of 16. but even then I didn’t want to; I was sort of forced to do so...that is a story for another time.

I had no idea who Ruth Ellis was until I had long left Detroit. The more I learn about her, the more I wish that I could have known her.

GLBTQ Archives

Ruth Ellis was a witness to history. She came within a few months of living through the entire twentieth century with its remarkable changes for glbtq people, African-Americans, and women, but she also had profound ties to the nineteenth. Her father , Charles Ellis, was born a slave in Tennessee. He eventually settled in Springfield, Illinois and became the first black postal carrier in the state. Charles Ellis married Carrie Farrell, another Tennessee native, and the couple had three sons. On July 23, 1899, Carrie Ellis delivered twin girls at home. One infant did not survive; the other, Ruth Charlotte, became a centenarian. Ruth Ellis learned about bigotry early in her life when a race riot erupted in Springfield in the summer of 1908 after a black man was accused--falsely , as it turned out--of raping a white woman. Many black families fled when rioters announced the intention to burn their homes, but the Ellises remained, with Charles Ellis standing guard downstairs with the ceremonial sword that he owned as a member of the benevolent society of the Knights of Pythias. The violence went on for two days before the National Guard was able to quell it. The Ellis family and their home came through the ordeal safely . What absolutely astonishes me about Ms. Ellis story is that she never felt the need to “come out.” Ellis never had to come out, as she never felt the need to hide her sexual orientation from her father or her brothers. She often had girlfriends over and, as she told one interviewer, “Nothing ever happened.” “Except one night I had this girlfriend stay, and we made a little too much noise. The only thing my father ever said to me was, ‘Next time you girls make that much noise, I will put you both out.'” One of Ellis’ girlfriends was Ceciline “Babe” Franklin, who was ten years her junior. The women would remain together for more than 30 years. In 1937, Ellis and Franklin moved to Detroit, Michigan, where Franklin worked as a cook while Ellis first started taking care of children, and later got a job in a print shop. I’ve heard many many “coming out” stories of people from many walks of life. I’ve been out for so long now that a lot of times it seems that I can’t relate to ideas like “coming out” or being on the “down low” (and really, I’ve always been an effeminate guy, I mean, how could my family have not known or at least suspected?). Beginning in my mid-20’s, I’ve felt less and less a need to explicitly say that “I’m gay” to anyone; I simply assume that people can “figure out” that piece of info about me. But I did go through a coming out process that was rather traumatic. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that anyone who was LGBTQ living in the early parts of the 20th century wouldn’t have had to say something about their sexual orientation or gender identity but those stories do exist, I know. Franklin took a job as a cook in a restaurant, and Ellis went to work for a printer for a time before deciding to go into business for herself. She and Franklin bought a two-family flat in Detroit and devoted the front room to the print shop. Much of Ellis's business came from local churches for which she printed coin envelopes and raffle tickets. She would also "take the walk-in trade" from neighborhood businesses and private customers requiring posters, fliers, or stationery . A self-taught photographer , she set up a darkroom in the former coal-bin of the house and offered the service of making hand-colored prints. To further supplement their income, Ellis and Franklin rented the other flat to "a gay fellow." Gay men and lesbians had little visibility at the time, and opportunities for socializing were extremely limited. "It was a hush-hush thing when I was coming up," stated Ellis. She and Franklin opened their home to other lesbians and gay men, giving parties to which "people used to come from everyplace" and earning their house on Oakland Avenue a reputation as "the gay spot." "On weekends, that would be the place to come because there weren't many places unless it was in someone's home. So they'd come down, and we'd play the piano and dance, and some of them would play cards," recalled Ellis in 1998. Gay men and lesbians came from as far away as Flint, Michigan and Cleveland, Ohio to attend the gatherings because they felt welcome in Ellis and Franklin's home. Of course, I had no such awareness that such houses for gay and lesbian “parties” existed and I would have been too young at the time to be welcomed into them, in any event. After I left home home, I did find out about a few places of refuge like Ms. Ellis’ and Ms. Franklin’s home that were even in my old neighborhood.. One such house happened to be owned by two lesbians that lived next door to my aunt and uncle’s house; people that my aunt and uncle would only speak of in rather hushed tones. The legacy of Ruth Ellis lives on with the Ruth Ellis Center which offers an array of social services and programs catered to helping LGBTQ+ youth in need be it a place to sleep, healthcare, or simply a place to relax and to feel accepted. As a former homeless LGBTQ+ person (a part of my experiences that I don’t write enough about, quite frankly), I know the importance of having a “home” and a “home” doesn’t simply happen by having a roof over your head. After all, I was never kicked out of my “home” for being gay. I left because it no longer felt like “home.” Here’s a trailer for a documentary on Ruth Ellis’ life, “Living with Pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100.” x x YouTube Video

And in honor of Detroit’s very own lesbian legend, Ruth Ellis...let’s dance!

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