Angel Meadow Walking Tour

In March on a wet Wednesday, ten of us met Dean Kirby, author of “Angel Meadow: Victorian Britain’s Most Savage Slum” for a walking tour.

It was so good, another ten people joined a repeat of the tour on 2 May. Dean’s stories really brought to life the underworld of Angel Meadow, the vilest and most dangerous slum of the Industrial Revolution.

The area was considered so diabolical it was re-christened ‘hell upon earth’ by Friedrich Engels.

LGBTQIA+ Groups Growing Session at RHS Garden Bridgewater

On Sunday, 5 May members of Out In The City attended the RHS Garden Bridgewater for a growing session workshop.

We had fun learning to grow some garden plants from seed and got advice on growing plants this year. We enjoyed a tour of RHS Garden Bridgewater and took away some seeds for home.

All this and cake too!

Trans+ History Week

Taking place from 6 to 12 May 2024, Trans+ History Week is an initiative celebrating the history of trans, non-binary, gender-diverse and intersex people. 

Have you heard of Mary Mudge? What about Mark Weston or Michael Dillon? These are just some of the names of trans figures from British history, individuals who lived in the 19th and early 20th century and who remind us that trans stories – whether we’ve been taught about them or not – have always existed. 

The delivery of transgender history has long been skewed or, at times, completely erased. Today, we can trace queer histories, cultures and communities back hundreds of years – and Trans+ History Week celebrates and recognises exactly that.

History is a powerful tool in our fight for equality and justice. So Trans+ History Week’s main objective is to inspire us to learn our stories.

To see a timeline of trans+ history click here.

Book burning

Adolf Hitler was named chancellor on 30 January 1933, and enacted policies to rid Germany of Lebensunwertes Leben, or “lives unworthy of living.” What began as a sterilisation programme ultimately led to the extermination of millions of Jews, Roma, Soviet and Polish citizens – and homosexuals and transgender people.

The sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld, who ran Berlin’s Institut für Sexualwissenschaft  (Institute for Sexual Science) which opened in 1919, offered among other sexual health services, some of the world’s first medical transitions and advocated for the rights of transgender people.

When the Nazis came for the institute on 6 May 1933, Hirschfeld was out of the country. Troops swarmed the building, carrying off a bronze bust of Hirschfeld and all his precious books, which they piled in the street.

Soon a tower-like bonfire engulfed more than 20,000 books, some of them rare copies that had helped provide a history for nonconforming people. The carnage flickered over German newsreels. It was among the first and largest of the Nazi book burnings. Nazi youth, students and soldiers participated in the destruction, while voiceovers of the footage declared that the German state had committed “the intellectual garbage of the past” to the flames. The collection was irreplaceable.

How Nazi Germany Persecuted Transgender People

Images: Eric Schwab / AFP via Getty Images; Ullstein Bild via Getty Images

In autumn 2022, a German court heard an unusual case.

It was a civil lawsuit that grew out of a feud on Twitter about whether transgender people were victims of the Holocaust. Though there is no longer much debate about whether gay men and lesbians were persecuted, there’s been very little scholarship on trans people during this period.

The court took expert statements from historians before issuing an opinion that essentially acknowledges that trans people were victimised by the Nazi regime.

This is an important case. It was the first time a court acknowledged the possibility that trans people were persecuted in Nazi Germany. It was followed a few months later by the Bundestag, Germany’s parliament, formally releasing a statement recognising trans and cisgender queer people as victims of fascism. In addition to thousands of gay men killed under brutal conditions, historians believe countless transgender people and lesbian women also died.

Historians estimate that between 5,000 and 15,000 gay men were interned in camps during the Nazi’s 12-year regime. 60% of those individuals are believed to have died while imprisoned, most of whom within a year of capture.

Whilst the majority of queer people targeted during the Third Reich were gay men, the Nazi party’s broader interpretation of Paragraph 175 meant that a small portion of interned individuals were what we today would call gender-nonconforming or trans. While lesbian women were not necessarily arrested because of their sexuality, that is neither to say that some lesbian women did not end up in concentration camps, nor that the homophobia of the time didn’t impact them more broadly. Lesbian bars were shut down, book clubs squashed, communities upended.

Paragraph 175, established in 1871, existed for the first part of its history as a fairly standard sodomy law. That is it didn’t necessarily criminalise homosexuality, but rather what was considered homosexual contact – male-on-male penetration. In 1935, however, the Nazi party revised the statute such that a man could violate the law simply by looking at another man with what was deemed sexual intent. Worse still, the Nazi’s revisions to the policy also extended its maximum penalty from six months’ to five years’ imprisonment. Except in Austria, Paragraph 175 did not apply to lesbian sexuality.

Some lesbians ended up in Ravensbrück, a camp established in 1939 and the only one that was designed especially for women prisoners. Those held in Ravensbrück were typically accused of being socialists, communists, sex workers or simply “asocial” (a vague phrase that can be understood as code for lesbian.)

However, up until the past few years, there had been little research on trans people under the Nazi regime. Historians are now uncovering more cases, like that of Toni Simon.

Nazis capture Toni Simon and send her to the Welzheim concentration camp for six months. She survived and made this collage in celebration of her 70th birthday in the 1950s.

Being Trans during the Weimar Republic

In 1933, the year that Hitler took power, the police in Essen, Germany, revoked Toni Simon’s permit to dress as a woman in public. Simon, who was in her mid-40s, had been living as a woman for many years.

The Weimar Republic, the more tolerant democratic government that existed before Hitler, recognised the rights of trans people, though in a begrudging, limited way. Under the republic, police granted trans people permits like the one Simon had.

In the 1930s, transgender people were called “transvestites”, which is rarely a preferred term for trans people today, but at the time approximated what’s now meant by “transgender”. The police permits were called “Transvestitenschein” (transvestite certificates), and they exempted a person from the laws against cross-dressing. Before the “transvestite passes”, gender-nonconforming people could be subject to arrest for appearing in public in a manner that might “disturb the peace.” Under the Republic, trans people could also change their names legally, though they had to pick from a short, preapproved list.

The Eldorado was one of the most popular and notorious queer venues in Weimar Germany. Here, a group of women and gender-nonconforming people pose by the bar.

The surprising hospitality attributed to the Weimar period is often exaggerated. Hirschfeld was attacked several times, subverting the idea that the pioneering sexologist’s pro-LGBT+ views were largely accepted at the time. He even had a bomb thrown at him one time.

In Berlin, LGBT+ people published several magazines and had a political club. Signs of cracks in the facade of early Berlin’s tolerance begin to show when considering the number of gay magazines circulating at the time. These numerous titles did not reflect a flourishing publishing industry; they constituted a reaction to censorship. The queer press would put out one magazine for a little while and when it would end up on the banned list, they would change the name.

Some glamorous trans women worked at the internationally famous Eldorado cabaret.

Trans people flock from around the world to visit the Institute. Four trans activists at the First International Conference for Sexual Reform.

The rise of Nazi Germany destroyed this relatively open environment. The Nazis shut down the magazines, the Eldorado and Hirschfeld’s institute. Most people who held “transvestite certificates,” as Toni Simon did, had them revoked or watched helplessly as police refused to honour them.

That was just the beginning of the trouble.

Nazi banners hang in the windows of the former Eldorado nightclub. Landesarchiv Berlin / US Holocaust Memorial Museum

‘Draconian measures’ against trans people

In Nazi Germany, transgender people were not used as a political issue in the way they are today. There was little public discussion of trans people.

What the Nazis did say about them, however, was chilling.

The author of a 1938 book on “the problem of transvestitism” (Ein Beitrag zum Problem des Transvestitismus by Hermann Ferdinand Voss) wrote that before Hitler was in power, there was not much that could be done about transgender people, but that now, in Nazi Germany, they could be put in concentration camps or subjected to forced castration. That was good, he believed, because the “asocial mindset” of trans people and their supposedly frequent “criminal activity … justifies draconian measures by the state”.

Otto Kohlmann (born 15 February 1918) was forcibly sterilised on 30 September 1935 at age 17 in Hadamar for their transmasculinity and sleeping with alleged sex workers. The Kohlmann family tried to use lawyers to get them out with no success. Otto escaped from Hadamar on no fewer than three occasions between 1936 and 1938 but was caught each time. They reportedly sent love letters to female detainees and refused to follow instructions from the guards. They were pathologised due to “always wearing a man’s shirt as a blouse; when it was taken away from (them), (they) howled and wailed.” Officials finally sent them to Ravensbrück in 1940, where they were interned until liberation in 1945.

They died in 1956 at age 38 from tuberculosis.

An older gay couple’s love is put to the test in this bittersweet romance

We have many stories about first love or the sweeping rush of new romance, but tales of long-term companionship – all of its ups and downs – are much more rare in film and television, especially when it comes to gay relationships.

That makes the romantic dramedy Turtles feel like something wholly unique and all the more exciting.

From writer-director David Lambert, the French and English-language film introduces us to older gay couple Henri (Olivier Gourmet) and Thom (Dave Johns, who film fans may recognise from the Cannes-winning I, Daniel Blake), who have built a life in Brussels and have been together happily for 35 years. Or so it would seem …

After retiring from his job on the local police force, Henri finds himself depressed and bored with his life. Not even Thom putting on a sexy outfit, bringing him breakfast in bed, and playing their song – Ottawan’s “Hands Up (Give Me Your Heart)” – can cheer Henri up.

With each passing day, the distance between them grows wider and wider, and their once happy home becomes a battleground. But Thom still finds himself madly in love and isn’t willing to give up on them so easily.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. The two sixty-something gay men even try using Grindr for the first time, which opens up a whole other world of complications for them.

Eventually, a desperate Thom realises: Their best bet at rekindling the spark in their romance? Asking for a divorce.

Turtles takes its name from the pair of pets – Topsy and Turvy – they’ve both been caring for since they first moved in together all those years ago. Once a symbol of their longevity, the turtles now might be the only thing keeping Henri and Thom together.

Lambert’s bittersweet film first premiered in France last autumn, then made its US debut at the SXSW film festival in March.

I can’t wait for Turtles to reach the UK. 

Live at Lunchtime – Free Concerts at Bridgewater Hall

We’re so pleased to announce this year’s Live at Lunchtime series is back starting Friday 3 May.

Live at Lunchtime is an annual series of free, lunchtime performances running from May to September in the Stalls Foyer at The Bridgewater Hall. It is dedicated to being a platform for talented musicians of all ages and genres.

Doors open at 12.30pm and the music starts promptly at 12.45pm. All are free to attend and usually last 45 minutes.

The Stalls Cafe will also be open, so come grab some great food and listen to some amazing artists!

Performing this year are:

3 May – The Mancunium Consort

10 May – Chetham’s School of Music

17 May – NOMAD

24 May – Mali Hayes

31 May – Ricardo Gosalbo & Julieth Lozano

14 June – Music for the Mind and Soul: Guiliano Modarelli & Kousic Sen

21 June – Emily Mercer

2 August – Bay Bryan

30 August – Jazzette with Carol Jason

6 September – Ahmed Dickinson

20 September – So Many Beauties Collective

27 September – Dilettante

You can find more information by clicking here.

The Bridgewater Hall – Community Members Day 2024

Monday, 20 May – 9.30am – 3.30pm

(please arrive between 9.30am and 10.30am)

Throughout the day you’ll discover music from around the world as you take part in a singing workshop led by Simply Singing, take home a piece of original art inspired by live music with workshop leader and musician Lili-Holland Fricke, and also join the brilliant guides on a behind-the-scenes tour of the Hall.

Tea, coffee and a light lunch will be provided. Please could you let us know of any dietary requirements? (Vegetarian, gluten free etc).

Places are limited and the deadline for booking a place is 9 May.

If you are interested in attending, please contact us here.

Voting Day

Don’t forget to bring photographic identification to vote. Your vote is your voice.

Research opportunity

Nina Rabbitt, Trainee Clinical Psychologist from The University of Manchester is looking for participants for research:

Do you have a diagnosis of bipolar disorder?

Do you identify as cisgender and lesbian or gay?

Are you aged 50+?

We would love to hear from you!

Check out the poster below and email to express your interest in taking part.

May the fourth be with you!

Labi Siffre: ‘I’ve had far more difficulties in my life due to being a homosexual than being black’

Labi Siffre was born in June 1945 in Hammersmith. He formed his first band at 16 and began playing jazz guitar in groups around Soho in the late 60s. He released his self-titled debut album in 1970 and followed it up with classic albums including The Singer And The Song, Crying Laughing Loving Lying and For The Children. Hit singles in the 70s included It Must Be Love (later a hit for Madness), Crying Laughing Loving Lying and Watch Me.

A sabbatical from music ended in 1984, when Labi Siffre was inspired by a documentary about apartheid in South Africa to write Something Inside So Strong, a song that would reach No 4 in the UK chart on its 1987 release and go on to become an anti-apartheid anthem.

His music received a new lease of life in the 90s and 00s thanks to it being sampled by hip-hop artists, most notably when Eminem and Dr Dre used an instrumental element of Siffre’s 1975 track I Got The … as the hook for the 1999 global hit My Name Is.

Labi Siffre reflects on a youthful obsession with music, single-minded approach to life and what has been important to him:

At 16, I was trying to be Jimmy Reed. I’m the penultimate son of five boys and my brother Kole, who was five years older than me, was probably the largest influence on my life as a musician. He had an amazing record collection and still has excellent taste. So I grew up listening to the best of blues and modern jazz – Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, Monk, Miles, Mingus, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, straight through to Ellington, Bird, Wes Montgomery, Oscar Peterson, Erroll Garner, Ella, the divine Sarah Vaughan, Mel Tormé, Little Richard, Fats Domino. That was the musical life that I grew up with, so I was very fortunate. 

I’ve always been a serious person. At 14 I wrote my manifesto of what I was going to do with the rest of my life. It started with me thinking most people would do anything rather than evidence-based, critical thinking. Then I thought surviving is so tough for many millions, billions of people that perhaps they don’t have time for deep philosophical thought. I came to the conclusion that there was a group of people who took it upon themselves to think – as a duty, as a vocation – and those people would be philosophers and artists. I decided that I would be an artist-philosopher or a philosopher-artist. Somewhat to my surprise, it seems I stuck to my guns.

I was six the first time I saw a postcard in a window that said, “Room to let: No Blacks, no Irish, no dogs.” That was the first time I was trolled. I was brought up by the society I lived in. I was brought up to have very little self-esteem. I was brought up in a society that told me that as a man, I was supposed to be homophobic, racist, misogynistic and ableist. Because everywhere that I looked, that’s what I was being told was the right thing to be. 

I gradually realised that everything I was being told about myself by the society and the country and the world I lived in, was a lie as a homosexual, Black atheist artist. So I decided that my roots had to start with me and I have progressed believing that ever since. I’ve never had time for people who base their lives on what their ancestors did. Especially when what their ancestors did was nothing to be proud of. 

I decided very early on in my life that I would search for and find somebody, make them fall in love with me and we would live together happily ever after. I had decided that by the time I was 10 or 11 years of age. And I pursued that very seriously indeed. I doubt that there are even a handful of heterosexuals in the world who have considered this fact: while these things vary, only 6 or 7% of the population are homosexual and so it’s very much more difficult to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. You really have to take it rather more seriously. 

I was very fortunate. In July 1964, I met Peter, who would have been my late husband had he lived long enough for marriage equality, so we were civil partners. Then in 1997, I met my husband Ruud. The three of us lived together for 16 years until Peter died in 2013 (we were together for 48 years). Ruud died in 2016. We were together for 19 years.

I have had far more difficulties in my life due to being a homosexual than being Black. And I conclude that your sexuality is who and what you are. And your colour is what other people say you are. If you are Black, you have to put up with the ignorance and arrogance of people who aren’t Black. If you are a homosexual, you must put up with the ignorance and arrogance of white people, blue people, green people, adult people, children who have been taught very early – just about every group of people. 

I’d tell my 16-year-old self, if you want to grow up to be me, I shouldn’t give you any advice at all. But if I was to give advice – certainly from a musical point of view – I could say honestly, that had I known I was going to be as good as I was, I wouldn’t have given up so often. So possibly my advice would be, just keep doing what you’re doing. 

Fame and fortune were not in my plan. Not for any high moralistic artistic reasons, it just merely never occurred to me. I wanted to be a musician. That was it. I wanted to be able to earn enough money so that I could be a musician all the time, rather than having to take day jobs. When I became a ‘public figure’, it took a very short time, a matter of a few months, for me to realise I was never going to be comfortable with that attention, but it was part of the job. 

I know we’re supposed to pretend that we’re all glamorous. Well, I’m not. I am very work oriented. I’ve come to realise that my job satisfaction mainly comes from the making. As far as songwriting is concerned – as with writing novels, or whatever – it’s making something seemingly out of the shadow of nothing. If you manage to do it, you get a great deal of satisfaction that you’ve done a good job. And then of course, you’ve got to do the next one.

My real life was at home. That was the thing that was overwhelmingly the most important part of my life. The rest of it you could call it a fascination or obsession or an inability to get away from music and learning about it. During the early part of my career, probably by the second album, I was asking myself, why exactly am I doing this? Because I knew that I was not part of the mainstream. I started by saying, I’m trying to write good songs. And then I quickly thought, hang on a minute, that’s not a good enough explanation. And I came to the conclusion that I was attempting to write songs that are useful. 

I don’t pat myself on the back. I find that very difficult. In fact, I spent the past few years telling myself to be more forgiving of myself. I would doubt that there is anyone more critical of me than I am. So I wouldn’t have been especially self-congratulatory when the songs I’ve written have made an impact and been useful to people. I wouldn’t have thought about it like that. I would have just got on with writing. 

For 14 years, I was Peter’s 24/7 carer and I mean 24/7. During that period I probably spent, in total hours, less than two weeks working on music. And when I started to be able to function again, which is only a short while ago, I was very, very pleased to find that I’m still eager to learn. That’s one of the things about a career in music, or arts. It is constant learning.  

My new material is me now, not me then. I’m still me and I know more now. At the moment, I’m doing the part of the job that is getting as much of me into the work as I can. I have no intention of trying to be somebody else. And once I’ve gone through that process, that’s when I go into the studio with other people who might do something I’ve done better, or have an idea that I haven’t had. The most important thing first of all though, is to get as much of me into the work as possible. 

If I could go back to any time, that’s obvious. It’d be to when Peter and Ruud were alive. I’d say “I love you” and they’d say “I love you”. It would be very straightforward. And I would refuse to leave. 

Labi Siffre’s catalogue is currently being reissued on vinyl by Demon Music Group. The latest in the series, 1973’s For the Children, was released on 26 April.

How to deal with the depression that hurts so many older LGBT+ people

Older LGBT+ adults have more health problems than their straight counterparts. Ageing gay men, lesbians, bisexual and transgender people have higher rates of diabetes, hypertension and disability than older straight adults. Mental health problems are also more prevalent. Social isolation and lack of family support might be the reason for these extra health problems.

It’s never easy writing about depression: it could be about a range of issues hitting at once such as finances, ageing, weight, looks, being single, the health of an elderly parent. It can be expressed as lethargy, disengagement or loss of interest.

Perhaps you can’t read the paper, stopped eating (then started binge-eating), have no interest in the gym or pastimes like the cinema or hanging out with friends. Your bed has become your best friend, the place where you can still sink into a pillow and dream, where you don’t need to dress or shower or fake interest or a smile.

Depression hits approximately 10 million people a year, and it’s estimated that 15 percent of the adult population will have an episode of depression during their lifetime. Gay men are three times more likely than the general population to suffer from depression. As such, we are also more prone to suicide.

Knowing the statistics about depression is helpful, acknowledging the illness, imperative, but what to do about it? That’s the next step. Seeking medical attention might be necessary, but you also need to fight from the inside – with a little help from your friends.

Depression often hits older people as careers have ended, they retire, they lose a partner and their sense of purpose goes away. There is often hopelessness that sets in.

It’s vital to open up about depression. As with all psychological illnesses, there tends to be a need to hide depression, to push it aside, to pretend we’re always as happy as our Facebook page might suggest. In the long run, denial only makes depression worse.

Even the smartest among us see depression as being weak, or ‘it’s just thoughts,’ or ‘just suck it up,’ or ‘it will pass.’ That’s just not true. It’s not simply ‘pull your thoughts together.’

Once you open up to people about your struggle, you’ll more than likely find they’ve experienced similar problems and are happy to share stories, offer advice, and lend an emotional hand. It’s therapeutic for both parties. You can keep your depression hidden behind a smile or embrace it as another part of you. But make sure you have social support. Social isolation isn’t just a symptom of depression; it’s a cause.

Monthly Queer Cabaret Night Hosted at The Met!

Thursday, 16 May 8.00pm – LOUD Cabaret – Bury Met

We’re delighted to announce a queer cabaret night where we will be showcasing the most fabulous of rising stars from across Bury and beyond.

May’s event will feature Holly Redford-Jones, Venn Smyth, and Evie D’Luca. Your host for the evening will be Mancunian writer, actor and activist Nathaniel J Hall, Artistic Director of Dibby Theatre. Thursdays have never been so exciting!

The event includes “I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar” by Holly Redford-Jones combining her three greatest passions: music, comedy, and lesbians, and Venn Smyth who blends synth, sax, ballads and bops.

Supported by The Greater Manchester LGBTQ+ Network and Dibby Theatre

£11 standard / £9 subsidised / £13 supporters (including fees)

Standard – What we need most people to pay.

Subsidised – For people currently unable to pay the standard price.

Supporters – The extra you pay goes directly towards the subsidised ticket option.

Doors open 7.00pm / first act on-stage 8.00pm

Book here

1853 Restaurant

The 1853 Restaurant is a 50-seat restaurant run by students at The Manchester College’s “Industry Excellence Academy for Hospitality and Catering”.

Thirty-two of us visited this week and we were given special attention by the team. We enjoyed a menu that’s always changing and innovating to reflect local, seasonable produce and the skills and talents of the chefs who are working and training in the state-of-the-art kitchen.

The lunchtime menu comprises of small plates, of modern starters, classic and contemporary dishes and delicious desserts. 

For starters we had roasted vine tomato soup with freshly baked bread or fish cakes with a poached egg and a lemon beurre Blanc.

The main course was pan seared chicken breast, creamed potatoes, chard broccoli served with a mushroom and tarragon cream sauce or roasted spiced butternut squash with caramelised shallot and herb risotto.

We made room for dessert, which consisted of iced profiteroles and chocolate sauce or blackcurrant cheesecake with chantilly cream berry compote. The latter was available in vegan, gluten free and vegetarian options.

To finish we had tea and coffee.

This restaurant is excellent and we will definitely be returning soon.

More photos can be seen here.

Lesbian Visibility Day – 26 April 2024

The aim of the day is to provide visibility and ally-ship for women who identify as Lesbian or Gay, providing a platform to advocate for challenges, celebrations of accomplishments and areas where improvement is still needed.

Did you know that Stonewall reported that LGBT+ women are two times less likely to be out in the workplace, compared to LGBT+ men? This is an example of the different ways we still need to uplift, and challenge and dismantle systems that put barriers in place. It also shows why individual visibility days within our communities are so important.

Let’s spotlight some amazing Lesbian Women:

Holland Taylor – The L word American Actor, Holland Taylor has often spoken out about her sexuality and has long time advocated for the community. She is married to Sarah Paulston, who is another high-profile actor.
 

Sandi Toksvig – is a Danish-British writer, comedian and broadcaster on UK radio and TV. She is well known for her role within The Great British Bake Off and is also an activist, known for co-founding the Woman’s Equality Party in 2015.
 

Radclyffe Hall – Marguerite Antonia Radclyffe was an English poet and author best known for her novel ‘The Well of Loneliness’ which is considered a ground-breaking work in lesbian literature and visibility.

 Gina Yashere – is a hilarious and inspiring British-Nigerian comedian who often includes experiences of racism and challenges faced as a Black woman in her sketches. Gina Yashere is not only a household name, but easily a fashion icon in the LGBT+ scene.

How Val McDermid met Jo Sharp: ‘I Googled her to make sure she was a real person’

Crime writer Val McDermid, 67, kept seeing geography professor Jo Sharp, 53, at literary events. They eventually had a drink at the bar in 2013 and now live together in Edinburgh.

In February 2013, crime writer Val McDermid was invited to speak at the University of Oxford. “It was at my old college of St Hilda’s,” she says. When she spotted she had been tagged on Twitter by an attendee, she felt nervous. “I’d had an unfortunate incident a few months before – someone had thrown ink in my face at a signing,” she says. “This tweet had a cartoon profile image rather than a picture, so I looked her up to make sure she was a real person.”

She discovered her new Twitter fan was Jo Sharp, a geography professor from Glasgow. “I was in Oxford doing some research,” says Jo. “I’d contacted a professor I knew there, to meet up. She told me she was going to see Val McDermid speak and I could come along.” Jo decided to go even though she had not read any of Val’s books. She tweeted the details of the event, tagging Val in her post. “My friend was a huge fan of her writing, so we stayed afterwards to be introduced,” says Jo. When she told Val she wasn’t from Oxford, Val admitted she already knew. “I told her I’d Googled her,” she laughs. “There was definitely something that caught my attention.”

In March, they met again at the Aye Write literature festival in Glasgow. Once again, they had a brief chat and exchanged a few messages on Twitter. It wasn’t until September 2013 that they got to know each other better at Bloody Scotland, a crime-writing festival in Stirling. “By this point, my friends were joking that I was stalking Val,” says Jo. They met up at a bar and chatted all evening. “We talked about all sorts: music, books, politics, gaming,” says Val. “We covered a lot of ground over the course of a few hours. I was intrigued by her, and she had lots to say for herself.”

At the time, neither of them saw each other romantically, which made their meet-up more relaxed. Jo was happily single and focusing on her career, while Val was coming towards the end of a long-term relationship. The following month, Jo travelled to Tanzania for a field trip, and their friendship continued to grow. “We broke Twitter because we were sending so many direct messages,” says Val. “Apparently there’s a limit on the number you can send.” Soon, they began to realise there might be more between them than friendship. “We were having these increasingly intense conversations,” says Jo. “Val really understood me.”

That January, Val’s relationship ended. She drove to Glasgow from her home in Northumberland to see Jo, and from that moment on they were never apart.

In May 2014, they moved in together in Edinburgh. “I grew up on the east coast and it’s less rainy,” laughs Val. They had a humanist civil partnership ceremony in 2016, which they celebrated with dinner and drinks near their home. “It ran from noon until 11pm, and the London contingent staggered out of the restaurant at the end of the night to get the sleeper (train) home,” says Val. “The whole day was joyous. I don’t think I stopped grinning,” adds Jo. Both describe their relationship as “incredibly supportive”. About a year after they first met at Val’s speaking event in Oxford, Jo remembers stumbling across a photo of them together there. “It felt like a moment in history for us,” she says. “Neither of us was looking for anything, but our worlds just collided that day.”

Lesbian Visibility Week

Lesbian Visibility Week was originally celebrated in California in 1990, and since then it has been an annual celebration of identity, community, culture and progress. 

In 2020, Linda Riley, publisher of Diva magazine, began a new Lesbian Visibility Week.

Maybe they were inspired by social reformer and women’s rights activist Susan B Anthony, who fought for gender equality. Born over 200 years ago, she never stopped speaking up, but a large part of her was silenced. She was a lesbian hero but they don’t teach you that in history class. 

This year Lesbian Visibility Week (22 – 28 April) is all about a community that is unified, not uniform. Diva are working with their global partners to celebrate the incredible diversity of LGBTQIA women, and they want every single one of you to get involved!

For Lesbian Visibility Week 2024 the power of sisterhood will be celebrated by uplifting incredible LGBTQIA women from every generation, in every field and in every country around the world. One community, so many brilliant individuals can all take a moment in the spotlight to be recognised for the work they do and the joy they bring.

Immerse yourself in herstory with Lesbian herstory, an Instagram account that posts images of lesbians and related cultural artefacts from times gone by.

Some photos from back in the day:

How We Met: ‘My neighbours encouraged me to call and ask her out’

Deborah, 67, and Maria, 70, met at a line dancing class in 1995. They fell in love and now live in Hove.

After a divorce, Deborah found herself living in Portslade, Brighton, in the mid-1990s. “I had only recently come out,” she says. “I didn’t have many lesbian friends, so I’d started going out more to meet people.” She decided to give line dancing a whirl.

“I walked in and saw Maria. She was wearing a hat that looked like a flying cap and was with someone called Tanya, who I’d seen before.” She went over to say hello, but didn’t get the response she was expecting. “Tanya turned to Maria and said, ‘Do we know her?’ I was a bit crushed.”

Despite the awkward start, Maria thought Deborah was “cute and a bit cheeky”. They chatted briefly, but then the class started. “I’d moved to Brighton from London and was living in a shared house,” says Maria. “I wasn’t able to work because I was struggling with ME, but I liked to get out when I was well enough.”

At the time, homophobia was still rife in some parts of the country, but there was an active LGBT+ community in Brighton. “People used to say, ‘Are you on the scene?’ which meant going out and about and meeting people. The scene was quite small, with a few bars that women used to go to,” says Deborah. “So we kept bumping into each other at different dance classes and started chatting more and more.”

Eventually they swapped numbers. “I was close to my neighbours at the time and they encouraged me to call and ask her out,” says Deborah. When she rang, Maria was in the middle of running a local gathering for Polish women and had asked not to be disturbed by any calls. “When they said it was Deb, I said, ‘Oh, I will take that!’ and just grabbed the phone. I couldn’t talk long but she said let’s go to the theatre. At first I didn’t cotton on to the fact that she liked me.”

In September 1995, Maria suggested they go for a walk together. “I love being in nature,” she says. “My plan was to go and see the white chalk cliffs and watch the sun setting over the sea. Deb had the wrong shoes and no jacket so I lent her one, then we went to the pub afterwards.” Deborah still remembers their conversation. “For some reason, I started talking about how organic lemons were really good. I remember thinking, ‘For God’s sake, stop talking about lemons,’” she laughs.

They soon began setting up dates, including parties and more dancing classes. “I was busy co-parenting my daughter, and Maria was still recovering from ME, so it suited us both to take things slow to start,” says Deborah. At a party, Maria met Deborah’s daughter for the first time and knew things were getting more serious. “It was a bit of a milestone because I was meeting someone important and we got on really well.”

Telling their families about the relationship was another big step. “My mum was a bit surprised and frosty at first, but she quickly warmed to Maria,” says Deborah. “Later in her life, as she got infirm, Maria was a great nurse to her.” Maria says her parents were initially “judgmental” about two women having a relationship but that Deborah persisted in getting to know them. “She’s so nice that they eventually cracked.”

The pair moved in together in Hove two years after meeting, and had a civil partnership in 2006. “In the 70s and 80s, it was really hard to be gay, and women with children would have them taken away if they came out,” says Maria. “But by the mid-90s it had become much easier. It’s hard to imagine now how scary it used to be.”

Deborah taught education as a university lecturer in Brighton, before retiring in 2018 to write novels and a memoir. Maria later worked as a Polish interpreter, writer and creative writing teacher.

Deborah says they have supported each other through bereavements, including her mother’s death and losing both of Maria’s parents. “We lost our friend Tanya in an accident, too. We offered each other very practical help as well as emotional.”

Maria says Deb is “really beautiful” and one of the most dynamic people she’s ever met. “She’s an exciting person to live with and you can never be bored around her.”

Whatever happens, Deborah says they always “have a laugh together”. “Maria has the most integrity of anyone I know and she’s always got my back.”

Out In The City Women’s Meeting

Thursday, 25 April 2024 – 2.00pm – 4.00pm

Meeting at Cross Street Chapel, 29 Cross Street, Manchester M2 1NL (Kenworthy Room)

Drop in – No need to book