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We Walk Alone
The 1950s queer-life groundbreaker by “a literary pioneer . . . [who] forever changed perceptions of same-sex love and desire” (Advocate.com). Ann Aldrich flung a provocative assertion at her readers in 1955 when she opened her landmark account of lesbian life in New York City by saying this book was the “result of fifteen years of participation in society as a female homosexual.” After the release of We Walk Alone , Aldrich became both a heroine and a scapegoat in some of the period’s most contentious public debates over what exactly “lesbian culture” was. Her non-fiction pulp literally transformed the landscape overnight, and “the effect on women was electric. From every corner of creation, they wrote wrenching letters of relief and gratitude” (Ann Bannon, author of The Beebo Brinker Chronicles). Part Kinsey-esque portraits of real people, part you-are-there reports on the scene in bars and offices and at clubs and house parties, We Walk Alone is revealing and compelling composite of an alienated yet amazingly self-aware community—one that Aldrich would revisit three years later in We, Too, Must Love . Today, “these essential cultural artifacts” ( UTNE Magazine ), as Stephanie Foote explains in her afterword, are “as rich and conflicted a look at the formation of lesbian urban culture as that of any contemporary queer historian.”
183 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1956
16 people are currently reading
255 people want to read
About the author
Ann Aldrich
7 books6 followers"Ann Aldrich" is the pseudonym of Marijane Meaker (aka Vin Packer) and M. E. Kerr.
Ann Aldrich is also known as M.E. Kerr, Marijane Meaker, and Vin Packer.
Ann Aldrich is also known as M.E. Kerr, Marijane Meaker, and Vin Packer.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
January 22, 2017
The entire time I was reading this I was appalled, oddly fascinated and deeply sad. The only reason I can see the value of this still being available (at least as it is in ebook format) is that it serves as an unwelcome, but very necessary, reminder of just how bad attitudes toward gays and lesbians were in the not so far away past. It is not that they cannot still be bad (they can, of course!) What makes it so different than today, though, is that these attitudes were just so incredibly warped in their badness and so alarmingly misguided and ignorant reading about them can absolutely chill your blood.
I have often found myself (because I have been there, having been old enough to still live in a time when being gay was considered a 'sickness') on the self-hating end of the spectrum of being gay, but thankfully those days are mostly over. I recommend this book not because I like it, but because it is a relic that needs to be read if only to remind ourselves of how far we have come and that while things still need to improve even more, we are much better off than we were.
I have often found myself (because I have been there, having been old enough to still live in a time when being gay was considered a 'sickness') on the self-hating end of the spectrum of being gay, but thankfully those days are mostly over. I recommend this book not because I like it, but because it is a relic that needs to be read if only to remind ourselves of how far we have come and that while things still need to improve even more, we are much better off than we were.
January 4, 2022
This strange little book has quite a split personality. In it, Ann Aldrich (one of the many noms de plume of the prolific Marijane Meaker) purports to set the record straight, as it were, by educating regular people on the life and personality of "the lesbian." Meaker drew on social science that was in vogue at the time (the book was published in 1955), such as Freudian psychoanalytic theories and the sexuality studies of Kinsey. She also claims to draw on her own experiences as a member of the marginalized group about which she is writing, but the book is actually safely free of any personal insight—when she’s not citing psychosocial authorities, she’s delivering “a lesbian I know” anecdotes presumably cherry-picked to support the present point.
The result is a book that veers dizzyingly from exceedingly clinical discourse to individiuals' stories oozing with pathos and dramatization. The latter are interesting enough, despite the somewhat condescending tone with which they are set forth, as a chronicle of quotidian life among both working class and affluent lesbians in New York in the 1950s.
And the book veers too from surprisingly trenchant and modern-sounding assertions about the place of lesbians - and women generally - in the conformist culture of the 1950s, to regurgitations of psychological theory that sound quaint and offensive to modern ears. For instance, Meaker emphasizes that there is no one "the lesbian," but that lesbians are as diverse and unique as any other group, and urges society at large "not to condemn or pity the homosexual, but simply to understand her." At the same time, she uncritically quotes then-prevalent theories of sexuality that viewed lesbian sexuality as immature and developmentally stunted, and largely the product of a fear of men.
Still the book is an unusual window on lesbian life and self-conception in its time, and at its time it was the only book of its kind. The afterword by Stephanie Foote credits Meaker with tremendous foresight and shrewdness in framing any kind of public discourse about lesbians at all. That she framed the discourse in terms of the prevalent views of the time, Foote argues, gave Meaker the credibility she needed to begin to dismantle it. If it’s shrewdness, though, it’s mercenary shrewdness, not so much political shrewdness. The predominant sense I get from this book is that Meaker wanted to sell books, not challenge the prevailing socio-psychological theories; even as she encourages acceptance of the lesbian, she gleefully concedes that the poor damaged thing can’t help herself. At any rate, the shrewdness was effective; “We Walk Alone” was such a success that Meaker was able to continue writing in its vein—all told, there are five books in the series it began.
[Edited somewhat after 2021 reread]
The result is a book that veers dizzyingly from exceedingly clinical discourse to individiuals' stories oozing with pathos and dramatization. The latter are interesting enough, despite the somewhat condescending tone with which they are set forth, as a chronicle of quotidian life among both working class and affluent lesbians in New York in the 1950s.
And the book veers too from surprisingly trenchant and modern-sounding assertions about the place of lesbians - and women generally - in the conformist culture of the 1950s, to regurgitations of psychological theory that sound quaint and offensive to modern ears. For instance, Meaker emphasizes that there is no one "the lesbian," but that lesbians are as diverse and unique as any other group, and urges society at large "not to condemn or pity the homosexual, but simply to understand her." At the same time, she uncritically quotes then-prevalent theories of sexuality that viewed lesbian sexuality as immature and developmentally stunted, and largely the product of a fear of men.
Still the book is an unusual window on lesbian life and self-conception in its time, and at its time it was the only book of its kind. The afterword by Stephanie Foote credits Meaker with tremendous foresight and shrewdness in framing any kind of public discourse about lesbians at all. That she framed the discourse in terms of the prevalent views of the time, Foote argues, gave Meaker the credibility she needed to begin to dismantle it. If it’s shrewdness, though, it’s mercenary shrewdness, not so much political shrewdness. The predominant sense I get from this book is that Meaker wanted to sell books, not challenge the prevailing socio-psychological theories; even as she encourages acceptance of the lesbian, she gleefully concedes that the poor damaged thing can’t help herself. At any rate, the shrewdness was effective; “We Walk Alone” was such a success that Meaker was able to continue writing in its vein—all told, there are five books in the series it began.
[Edited somewhat after 2021 reread]
October 29, 2012
This book was really hard to read. I thought it was going to be much more an account of gay life in New York in the 50s and was very interested in hearing first hand non-fictional accounts of that time. This book did have some of that, and when it did it was fascinating. But what it also had was some very serious discussions on the "perversity" and "curability" of gay women. It was quite a shock at how negative a view a lesbian in the 50s would have of what/why and how of lesbians being the way they were. Reading a lot of pulp from the 50s I find I identify a lot with the women in the books, it was quite a shock to read how one of them viewed herself and her friends as perverts.
The psychological parts were really hard to read. Not only were lesbians inferior but so were all women. The text was heavily influenced by Freudian theory that all women had "penis envy" and were trying to make up for what was "lacking" in themselves. It even went so far as to say one of the reasons that women became lesbians was because they couldn't bring themselves to submit to men, the natural role of a woman! There was also condemnation of anyone who engaged in oral or anal sex (whether a man or a woman) and how these "perversions" were obvious signs of secret repressed homosexuality.
What was interesting was that the author attempted to show how there was no single "type" for a lesbian and how there was no single "cause" for lesbianism either. This often led to saying kinda contradictory things though, one paragraph talking about how lesbians liked their mothers too much and another saying how it was because they hadn't gotten a strong female role model. All the ridiculous reasons were really hard to read, and saddening that this form of internalised homophobia was so prevelant even among the lesbian community. It seemed so alien, though when discussing the individuals she knew, the bars, the parties, it sounded much more modern (albeit with a huge reliance on the butch femme dichotomy).
As hard as this book was to read. I'm glad I did read it as it gave me a new and interesting, although rather tragic, view of the world at that time. It made me angry and sad to think that people would think of themselves that way and that this was a book that many queer women at the time read and found comfort it.
The psychological parts were really hard to read. Not only were lesbians inferior but so were all women. The text was heavily influenced by Freudian theory that all women had "penis envy" and were trying to make up for what was "lacking" in themselves. It even went so far as to say one of the reasons that women became lesbians was because they couldn't bring themselves to submit to men, the natural role of a woman! There was also condemnation of anyone who engaged in oral or anal sex (whether a man or a woman) and how these "perversions" were obvious signs of secret repressed homosexuality.
What was interesting was that the author attempted to show how there was no single "type" for a lesbian and how there was no single "cause" for lesbianism either. This often led to saying kinda contradictory things though, one paragraph talking about how lesbians liked their mothers too much and another saying how it was because they hadn't gotten a strong female role model. All the ridiculous reasons were really hard to read, and saddening that this form of internalised homophobia was so prevelant even among the lesbian community. It seemed so alien, though when discussing the individuals she knew, the bars, the parties, it sounded much more modern (albeit with a huge reliance on the butch femme dichotomy).
As hard as this book was to read. I'm glad I did read it as it gave me a new and interesting, although rather tragic, view of the world at that time. It made me angry and sad to think that people would think of themselves that way and that this was a book that many queer women at the time read and found comfort it.
October 28, 2020
This book can be summed up fairly succinctly as 'bleak in the extreme'
I was expecting something closer to a description of lesbian life in the 1950s and while we do get bits of this in vignettes about M's in New York or Le Monocle in Paris, a majority of the book is overtaken by Freudian interpretations of sexuality and various other popular psychological theories of the era - whether female homosexuality can be cured, is a signifier of narcissism, psychopathy or an oedipal complex.
It is a fascinating book in the sense that it feels like someone trying to make sense of themselves and the world, through a kind of insidious and all encompassing self loathing. Each woman described in the book is more alone and broken than the one before her, and the writer flips between describing them as near monstrous to being 'just like any other woman'. This book was published at the same time as the Daughters of Billitus came into operation, and it is both depressing and interesting to see the author attempt describe issues no-one else ever had before, while also trying to run beneath the attention of obscenity laws.
I don't know if I can recommend this book to a modern audience other than one who is looking to read an account of how warped and destroyed people become under the pressures of 1950s homophobia. It is a book without any source of light or escape, but historically incredibly valuable, particularly with the afterword added to give context to the books reception by wider society.
I was expecting something closer to a description of lesbian life in the 1950s and while we do get bits of this in vignettes about M's in New York or Le Monocle in Paris, a majority of the book is overtaken by Freudian interpretations of sexuality and various other popular psychological theories of the era - whether female homosexuality can be cured, is a signifier of narcissism, psychopathy or an oedipal complex.
It is a fascinating book in the sense that it feels like someone trying to make sense of themselves and the world, through a kind of insidious and all encompassing self loathing. Each woman described in the book is more alone and broken than the one before her, and the writer flips between describing them as near monstrous to being 'just like any other woman'. This book was published at the same time as the Daughters of Billitus came into operation, and it is both depressing and interesting to see the author attempt describe issues no-one else ever had before, while also trying to run beneath the attention of obscenity laws.
I don't know if I can recommend this book to a modern audience other than one who is looking to read an account of how warped and destroyed people become under the pressures of 1950s homophobia. It is a book without any source of light or escape, but historically incredibly valuable, particularly with the afterword added to give context to the books reception by wider society.
November 7, 2007
I found this book so offensive that as soon as I finished reading it, I called up a friend to rant.
I realize that it, and the author's feelings, are a product of its time, but I can't believe that she ever thought that lesbians are drawn to women because their emotional maturity is stunted.
Just.... euuuugh.
I realize that it, and the author's feelings, are a product of its time, but I can't believe that she ever thought that lesbians are drawn to women because their emotional maturity is stunted.
Just.... euuuugh.
April 28, 2020
A quick and fascinating read, this was published as a pulp but also as a nonfiction, quasi-journalistic account of lesbian life in the 1950s, primarily in New York. It feels like it was banged out in a matter of weeks, though it probably wasn’t—Aldrich (pseudonym of Marijane Meaker) constantly contradicts herself in the space of a single page, and jumps between genres. That second is kind of fun: one chapter will be a recitation of sodomy laws in every state, and the next will be a recounting of a cocktail party that “you” attended.
It’s understandable that the lesbian activists and recent reviewers find it dispiriting. She identifies as a lesbian, yet also says lesbian life is unhappy, characterized by unfaithfulness, and that lesbians are the result of psychological damage. Of course, then on the next page she’ll say lesbians are about as happy as anyone else.
The 2005 Feminist Press edition has a good afterword putting it in context, and the part I agreed with most is that Meaker is acting as a provocateur more than anything else. She engages quite a bit with the psychological arguments of the day, but also hits the pause button on that and shows the existence of several forms of lesbian life as they are lived. These interludes are not always flattering, but they must have been a tremendous balm to women who felt completely isolated from any queer society.
It’s understandable that the lesbian activists and recent reviewers find it dispiriting. She identifies as a lesbian, yet also says lesbian life is unhappy, characterized by unfaithfulness, and that lesbians are the result of psychological damage. Of course, then on the next page she’ll say lesbians are about as happy as anyone else.
The 2005 Feminist Press edition has a good afterword putting it in context, and the part I agreed with most is that Meaker is acting as a provocateur more than anything else. She engages quite a bit with the psychological arguments of the day, but also hits the pause button on that and shows the existence of several forms of lesbian life as they are lived. These interludes are not always flattering, but they must have been a tremendous balm to women who felt completely isolated from any queer society.
January 21, 2025
There were times I wanted Ann Aldrich to put down the pen. Painful to read at times because of some very false things, made me sad to believe the author actually believed them. But I sympathise with her, she was just trying to understand herself and others like her. The sources used make sense for their time, I understand why they were believed. But now we know better and that’s why some parts were painful to read. Other times, the book was great fun and I really loved the conclusion of not stereotyping even within the community, something I wish was practised more now. I mostly enjoyed the stories she shared about the women and the many different lives they lived. But my goodness, why would you trust male “doctors” to tell you about women? You think they understand women? They don’t. This book makes one feel disheartened and depressed, when it shouldn’t be that way at all. Being a lesbian is beautiful and wonderful and I hope all of the lesbian readers know that.
September 7, 2025
Missable for the vast majority of lesbians interested in our culture and history, myself included. I feel I gained nothing by reading this except a deeper and more distasteful understanding of offensive Freudian stereotypes about gay people, including some that still linger. And also sex stereotypes are horrible for society and lesbians are affected by them. I'm grateful to live in the current year, although it's also discouraging to think about how many offensive and sexist ideas about lesbian still exist, translated slightly decade by decade, fad by fad. Not a fun read!
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August 5, 2023sad rhetoric about lesbians from a lesbian during the 50’s
pg124 “While overt homosexuality can never be considered a normal condition, it is an abnormality that does not necessarily have to be offensive to society..”
pg124 “While overt homosexuality can never be considered a normal condition, it is an abnormality that does not necessarily have to be offensive to society..”
June 11, 2025
While this is certainly dated, I think that it is an incredibly honest account of what it was like to have an LGBTQ+ and specifically lesbian identity during this time and is a super interesting insight into lesbian culture and history.
May 31, 2021
I must admit, this book fascinates me. As someone with a keen interest in LGBT+ history, it has led me to have several engaging discussions with both my queer & non-queer friends. That said, it is not a light or sunny read. It is drenched with the homophobia of the time- especially the horrible, thankfully antiquated, views of psychiatry.
It’s extremely interesting as a snapshot of queer life in the 1950s. The individual stories & interviews are all compelling, & often sad. The Freudian stuff was so repellant & oddly absorbing at the same time. Telling women that if they like clitoral orgasms they are emotionally & psychologically stunted is insane! (Of course a man came up with that!) The ideas that “normal” women like submitting to men, & lesbians are unreasonable for wanting more affection & duration in sex?... Wow. On the other hand, the book does try to dispel some of the myths about lesbians that are still around even today. It’s such a mixed bag.
This is much more a book for those interested in queer history than just your average reader. But for those interested, I expect it will spark a lot of discussion.
It’s extremely interesting as a snapshot of queer life in the 1950s. The individual stories & interviews are all compelling, & often sad. The Freudian stuff was so repellant & oddly absorbing at the same time. Telling women that if they like clitoral orgasms they are emotionally & psychologically stunted is insane! (Of course a man came up with that!) The ideas that “normal” women like submitting to men, & lesbians are unreasonable for wanting more affection & duration in sex?... Wow. On the other hand, the book does try to dispel some of the myths about lesbians that are still around even today. It’s such a mixed bag.
This is much more a book for those interested in queer history than just your average reader. But for those interested, I expect it will spark a lot of discussion.
March 6, 2014
Although I can understand why this is such an important work, it really is a hard pill to swallow. We Walk Alone is really nothing like I thought it would be...I expected a slightly pulpy guide to lesbian life in New York, an unveiling of secrets, a gritty glimpse many didn't get until decades later. Instead, Aldrich (real name Marijane Meaker, also wrote crime novels under the name Vin Packer) wrote a confusing little book trying to figure out why lesbians are lesbians, what is wrong with them, and how they can cope with being such unnatural beings.
Since Aldrich is a lesbian, it's almost sad to read this book...much of it is self-hating, claiming that women are lesbians out of fear of men and penises or stunted growth. Aldrich looks down on butch women and at the time, transphobia and transmisogyny ran rampant (that's a trigger warning for this book). I almost didn't finish it just because it was so upsetting to read these dated and harmful views, but it's certainly significant that Aldrich wrote this book because society forced her to feel this way about herself.
Since Aldrich is a lesbian, it's almost sad to read this book...much of it is self-hating, claiming that women are lesbians out of fear of men and penises or stunted growth. Aldrich looks down on butch women and at the time, transphobia and transmisogyny ran rampant (that's a trigger warning for this book). I almost didn't finish it just because it was so upsetting to read these dated and harmful views, but it's certainly significant that Aldrich wrote this book because society forced her to feel this way about herself.
May 2, 2023
Encontré este título mucho más crudo que su sucesor We, too, must love (1958) en cuanto a la patologización, entre otros jucios anticuados respecto a la homosexualidad, especialmente aquellos nutridos por el psicoanálisis y la sexología de la época. Sin embargo, mi aprecio a la narración de Aldrich, sus brillantes anécdotas, sus entretenidos paseos de carácter periodístico por bares o reuniones, y su capacidad para mostrar las diferentes experiencias de la existencia gay sigue siendo el mismo. Me parece, además, que este diálogo con las posturas homofóbicas de la época cumple su función en la historia de la literatura lésbica: enunciar que existimos, que nuestros problemas importan, y que podemos venir de cualquier lado.
June 23, 2016
The worthy bits, for the modern reader, are the vignettes. She describes lesbian life in the early 1950s in very personal detail. She is classist about it, sometimes repulsively so, but her observations are still worth reading.
About half the book is an explanation of the current medicine, which in 1955 amounted to "Freud...also your Mom." Did Meaker really believe about herself what she was writing? In any case, it's a good book. I recommend it, as a historical artifact.
About half the book is an explanation of the current medicine, which in 1955 amounted to "Freud...also your Mom." Did Meaker really believe about herself what she was writing? In any case, it's a good book. I recommend it, as a historical artifact.
August 7, 2008
This book is interesting from a historical perspective, and almost campy at moments. A fun read if you can take it for what it is and where it's from. But beware: there is pretty lengthy discussion of pathologizing psychobabble almost throughout.
August 11, 2015
Clearly written and well thought through. Odd how this book still seems modern, reads as if it is almost a new release today...
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