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She was also a professional dancer and spent time in some honky-tonks 
A beautiful interview with a beautiful woman who will turn 90 this year: Phyllis Jenkins by Goldalee Katsanis-Semel / GKS: Phyllis, as a beloved, long-time member of our St. Luke’s Family, what brought you through our doors? What had you stay?
A beautiful interview with a beautiful woman who will turn 90 this year: Phyllis Jenkins by Goldalee Katsanis-Semel / GKS: Phyllis, as a beloved, long-time member of our St. Luke’s Family, what brought you through our doors? What had you stay?PJ: I was raised in the Episcopal Church and left for 40 years, feeling there was no place for blacks, women or gays. When I had my first great-grandchild, I told his mother, “Babies need to be baptized.” I’d pass St. Luke’s every day, and when I thought about baptizing him, there was no question that it would take place in an Episcopal Church. One day I walked into St. Luke’s. I told Mother Kowalski-Vesta, “I want my great-grandson to be baptized.” She said, “Why don’t you get to know us, and let us get to know you.” That’s how it started; Easter Vigil, 30 years ago.
I’ve been on every committee in this parish. I’m a retreat junkie, having gone on every retreat these last 25 years. This may sound crass but isn’t meant to be - it doesn’t matter to me who’s leading the congregation. What matters to me is worship. Worshipping is a private affair, but it’s also a corporate entity.
GKS: As a native New Yorker, can you share your childhood religious experience?
PJ: A Bronxite, I was born and raised in Williamsbridge, a racially mixed area with enclaves who preferred to socialize amongst themselves. I never went to an all-black school and had no black friends until I went to junior high. I went to the same HS as my mother. I liked school, but was bored. I was a smart a**. I got into trouble all the time. In Junior High I discovered that I could play hooky; I did that a
lot, yet my grades were good. But when I got to HS, I dropped out and ran away from home.
I lived with a guy who was 17 when I was 15. We got married. I immediately knew that I didn’t like the situation, yet didn’t know how to get out of it. I had a daughter at 16, my son at 17 and a separation at 18. I put blinders on, thinking “This is what you’ve got to do; you can’t do anything that’s going to embarrass your mother, or anybody else in your family.” When I lived on my own with my children and struggled, a good person said she’d care for the kids if I wanted to go to school. I went to college and finished at 28. I was accepted into LIU for Nursing at Wards Island Psychiatric Hospital. Six months later, I received my B.S., graduating in the top 1/3 of the class. My kids still lived with that woman, who decided that they were hers. It was agonizing, but my kids ended up with me. There are only two people on earth who know what I went through. My son’s been dead now for two years from cancer.
GKS: Returning to The Church was courageous. How did your early life inform your spiritually later?
PJ: There’s a Catholic saying: “Give me your first 7 years, and you got me.” And they had me — and my first 7! I was baptized at St. Luke’s in The Bronx; as a scientific skeptic, I left at 14. A St. Luke’s window is dedicated to my eldest brother.
I went to N.Y.U. and at 37 received my M.E. in Psychiatric Nursing, and worked in a women’s psychiatric prison, Eleanor’s General Hospital. When I moved into the nurse’s residence, across from the women’s ward, one heard constant screams. Once they introduced Thorazine, their screams were silenced, leaving medicated zombies. I was determined that this wouldn’t be my approach, pushing people towards medication; I didn’t want them to live like that.
GKS: You wanted to work in Africa; how did this enrich your heart?
PJ: A good friend, Claire Fagan, my N.Y.U. graduate mentor, was leaving to begin Lehman College’s Baccalaureate in Nursing. Claire asked me to help her start that program, and she helped me write a grant proposal to the NIMH. I was granted to support minority students in their baccalaureate nursing education. At 44 I thought, if I get it, I’m stuck here for the rest of my life in a similar position. And if I don’t get it, my ego is breached. I went with the Peace Corps to Sierra Leone. I was the first black woman and nurse to be a Medical Officer in West Africa.
GKS: You wove a thread of service throughout various cultures, wearing hats of many “firsts.”
PJ:: Prior to going overseas, I’d been meeting with a group of women; we started the National Black Nurses Association and the New York Black Nurses Association. It was the first. Today the National Black Nurses Association has legions of members.
GKS: One of the things I noted upon meeting you was your peace sign necklace.
PJ: This is a teardrop piece I had made during the Vietnam era; I hadn’t worn it for years. I guess about 15 years ago I thought, I’m going to resurrect it. The world is in tough shape these days, and we are still trying to have peace, as we did then. I wear it every day and usually get comments on it.
GKS: As a black, gay woman, what’s impressed you in this welcoming, inclusive parish? Also, February is Black History and Absalom Jones’ Feast Day.
PJ: Yes, and Richard Allen, who founded the AME Church. Well, we have a very small number of black parishioners. Yet at our recent Annual Meeting, I counted 9 dark faces. I wanted to shout, “We have nine!” When I came to St. Luke’s, I was the only person of color; this didn’t faze me, because of how I grew up. What impressed me then was how we on The Outreach Committee helped put a young woman through school in South Africa. During the AIDS epidemic years, we saved lives. There was erroneous fear elsewhere from those who worked with people living with AIDS, the prevailing attitude and approach, save at the now extinct, St. Vincent’s. We were the only two organizations in The Village that had any long-term, deep concentration of help. St. Luke’s held many funerals; others in our own denomination refused to bury people.
GKS: In terms of your faith, the LGBTQ community is ever evolving. What continued evolution would you like to see?
PJ: I’d see more families before we had a separate first service on Sundays, and that was great for them but it took away the kids from us.
I joked with my great-grandson, “In four years, I’ll be 90. I’m going to live just so I can vote against Trump again! If I can’t make it, then you bring me that ballot!” My friend, with whom I play Scrabble, is going to be 95 soon. During this recent election, her executor gave her the ballot; she signed it, saying, “I have now voted for the first woman president.” It didn’t come to pass.
I took the bus to the DC Women’s March, wearing my pink pussy hat. I saw an ocean of pink hats worn by men, women and babies. Walking from Union Station to the mall, I marched with new friends the whole day – The Gang of Eight. I didn’t go to the ‘63 March, but did watch it on the T.V. that’s still in my apartment, where I’ve lived since ‘60.
GKS: Phyllis, you have many pearls of wisdom to offer us.
PJ: N.Y.U. gave me a Lifetime Achievement Award 10 years ago. It was fantastic. I just couldn’t believe that it was happening. And my mentor, Claire, came out of retirement to present the award to me. My daughter, my great-grandson, and my granddaughter were all there with me. What a special, wonderful occasion.
I have nine grandchildren. My great-grandson Robert, or Bobby, he’s in my life at a wonderful time. He lived here the first seven years of his life, and these last ten. Bobby is special – he shops, cooks and cleans; I’m lucky to have him around.
GKS: Thanks so much for your time, Phyllis. It’s been wonderful speaking with you.
PJ: Thank you. I never thought that I would live this long. I’m amazed I’m still here!
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