a blog by Elisabeth Young-Bruehl

Quite simply, we both loved Elisabeth.P knew her from as far back as her Wesleyan days, and we both knew her in the Western New England institute for Psychoanalysis in New Haven and ever after. Her wisdom, erudition, teaching, writing gifts, insights and generativity are legend. Her abilities to enlighten, engage, critique and even accept criticism and shift perspective were greater than most can encompass. And with it all, she was tender, dear, loving, stalwart and vulnerable. We were thrilled with her marriage to Christine. Our lives are all diminished by this deep loss. I, (R) shall be writing an obituary in Studies in Gender and Sexuality, and P will be helping organize an event in her honor at WNEIP, both of us aware of feeling grateful to share our grief with those who also cared so much about her.

I am very sad to see that Elisabeth is no longer with us, having really only just discovered her. I think the many who learned from her could do well to try to bring together their inter-essence and act together in concert in a way befitting the potentials unfolded by people like Arendt to think what we are doing better and in new and developing forms. Taking such action would be a fitting homage, so I invite anyone who is interested to post a reply on my blog, inthesatyagraha.blogspot.com if the would like to explore ways of using the language of people like E. Young-Bruehl and Arendt to come to terms with the world today. The finality of death is at the same time a reminder, in a strange way, of the miraculousness of action, and this may be the best thing to take away from the loss of a wonderful mind: to take action with as unexpected and original a genius as the unexpected and unwelcome loss.

Only the good die young. Or so it seems in light of this information which only now has found its way to me. I knew Elisabeth in the context of personal fitness/friend. We shared early morning runs in the Wissahickon in Philadephia in the 90s, and stayed in touch through her move to NYC. We saw B

KS Iyengar together on his book tour in NYC. And I was so grateful that she found a new, wonderful life partner in Christine. I cannot fathom your loss, as I feel seared through the heart myself. I appreciated the way Elisabeth welcomed me into her life and cared about me. I wanted to tell her that I had visited Freud’s house in Vienna last March, and that some of the conversations we had in the park were right on target–and things were coming to fruition now; that I think of her often although we are not in touch, b/c there is so much going on in the world that is relevant to her approach to social justice. I often used to remind Elisabeth to stay in the moment b/c she seemed to get lost in her head sometimes. I guess she has had the last word–this early departure is a clear message to appreciate the moment you have today–and to speak truth to power and take action to right the wrongs that you see. Her untimely death is a loss to all. I am so sorry, Christine.

When I first heard about Elisabeth’s death, I could only think of Christine.
I found it – still find it – simply unacceptable that this most beautiful, passionate and companionate relationship, the wonderful and funny story of which I recounted so many times as a proof that happiness is possible, should be broken by death just like that, just like in bad old lesbian films, assimilating it to some romantic narrative rather than the dynamic, radiating, most lively example of love I know.
It was my friend and flatmate Mona who first found words. As so many of my friends, she has briefly met Elisabeth (somehow there was always a party when she was visiting). Crying along with me, Mona plainly said: “And I wanted her to come to Mesendorf (our newly set up land commune/artist colony outside Berlin) and once in my life have someone like her look at my paintings.”
This wish seems so very telling of the impact Elisabeth had on innumerous lives. Her presence, her gaze, her judgement, were so uniquely powerful and generous. It definitely inspired a profound reorganization of my life and -self. Back at a time of utter consanguine shipwreck, her queer kinship saved my soul.
Her friendship brightened my life. Being able to rely on the fact that what I did was indeed to be shared with her, exposed to her kind scrutiny, made me at home in the world and somehow responsible for it. Navigating my life seems a lonelier and less rewarding task now. Couldn’t we at least go on argueing whether academic philosophy was good for anything at all? But a lot of this can be bridged in imagination and commemoration. I’m used to the long gaps between our transatlantic commutes and I am steering friendlier waters these days.
What weighs heavier is the little things. Not having her stay over in our new place. No more shared culinary and oenological indulgence. Fiery debates about politics. And academic gossip. The joy of taking her out to the most obscure and original spots in Berlin. And the joy of being taken to the most must see exhibition in London – or the best place to swim in Hudson Bay. Those days of mutual visits, carefully wrung from crazy diaries. One could just link in with her intensity. Elisabeth had this wonderful gift to turn everything that caught her gaze into something that mattered. It was redeeming to be seen that way, but I will miss even more the irrevocable loss of sharing that vibrant perspective, a few days at a time, once or twice a year.
I would so have loved to show Mona’s paintings to her.