Youth

rom the beginning, the circumstances of Nancybelle Valentine's life were unusual. She was born in 1934 at the height of the Great Depression, but her family's circumstances were relatively secure. She was a black girl in a society that offered few opportunities to women generally, and black women in particular, but she never felt limited. Perhaps most remarkably, by the time she reached puberty, she had recognized her attraction to other girls, and she was able to come to an acceptance of her sexual orientation without being rejected by her family or community.

Nancybelle was born in Little Silver, New Jersey. Her grandparents had bought property there in the 1920s, and she thinks they might have been the first black homeowners in the town. Her father, a Jamaican immigrant, made hats, and her college-educated mother worked as a cook, seamstress and maid when discrimination kept her from getting a teaching job. She had one sibling, her sister Tete, who was 18 months her junior, and the two girls were life-long friends. (Tete died several years ago, but Nancybelle remains close to sister's children and grandchildren.)

Daily life in Harlem had most of the usual childhood routines: school, chores and church. Nancybelle's social life revolved around church functions and occasional trips to the beach. Both her family and the adults in her church impressed upon her the importance of always putting her best foot forward: in school, in her appearance, and in her daily interactions.

Of course, the were also the regular visits to be photographed by James Vanderzee. "Mr. Vanderzee was our family photographer," she recalled. My mother would take us to have our picture taken on special occasions, such as Easter, or our graduations. We had our picture taken every year, the way children have their school pictures taken now."

Nancy's mother made all of the clothes that she and Tete wore, and she was her first sewing instructor. Rovutter was, of course, very particular about the outfits her children wore when their pictures were taken. Nancybelle didn't mind dressing up -- except for when her mother insisted that she wear a hat. "I hated wearing hats!" she recalled. When I mentioned that she wears hats all the time now, her facial expression suggested that I must not be as intelligent as I looked. "That's because now, I'm bald!"

View Nancybelle's childhood album.