BROAD Issue 001: New Beginnings

Issue 001

BUTCH CUTS

BROAD

TORTURED ROCKSTARS

New Beginnings

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BROAD

Issue 001: New Beginnings

Credits Editor Alice Linehan

Layout Design Alice Linehan Contributors Alice Linehan Kerry Mahony Maeve Fortune Mafalda Hrušková Alanna Kirwan

Get in touch!

Email: hellobroadzine@gmail.com Instagram: @broad_zine

Images Alice Linehan Ben Houdijk (Shutterstock) istolethetv (Wikimedia Commons) Sid Ali (Pexels) Jasmin Grace MGM Amazon Studios Arclight Productions

Letter from the Editor 27 January 2024 I have an intense fear of failure. So much so that BROAD was on the brink of death a multitude of times. The thrill when it was simply an idea in my head at home alone was severely outweighed by the overwhelming anxiety I felt when this private thought was presented for others to perceive and engage with. Thus, it has taken me many months longer than I initially planned to see this through, but I always promised I would and inspired by the courage of others, including those generous enough to share their words for this publication, I finally have. So here we are, Issue 001: New Beginnings.

BROAD came from a desire to provide a platform for lesbian-interest writing and creative expression to anyone with a connection to dyke culture. It was inspired by the likes of Dyke News, Lez Spread The Word, and the various periodicals, newsletters and zines available in the Lesbian Herstory Archive.

It has also been aided hugely by my experience

working with GCN, Ireland’s longest-running, free LGBTQ+ media.

As for the name, to be broad is to take up space, and that’s what I wanted to offer submitters: real estate for their voices, ideas and interests, all under a common umbrella. Layout-wise, I was inspired by traditional newspapers, and although I had very little experience with design, I wanted to hold myself to making my vision a reality. The name was a nod to that commitment, ensuring the final printed product resembled something similar to a broadsheet newspaper.

It also helped that broad is a slang term for women, which I am taking upon myself to reclaim from its sexist past (solely because it suits my agenda). Additionally, broad is close to ‘bród’, the Irish for ‘pride’, but what really sold the name to me was when I was perusing the GCN Archive, looking for the magazine published during my birth month, July 1998, I found that the very word appeared on the cover.

“BROADS ON THE BOARDS pride’s female performers,” it read, and I took it as a sign.

Inside this inaugural issue, we look at the power of haircuts, the rise of Boygenius, and a certain trend prediction for 2024. One writer shares a letter to their younger self, while another takes us on a journey of their first heartbreak. We hear about the things that make an Irish lesbian homesick after moving to London, and for those who frequent the dancefloor of HONEYPOT, there are a series of missed connections that may be written just for you. Once that’s all digested, wind down with a crossword themed around some of our favourite Sapphic films.

I want to extend a huge thank you to all those who engaged with the submission process and shared their time, effort, words and patience with BROAD. I hope it will do you justice.

There’s not much else to say other than happy reading! Here’s to a new chapter of facing fears and embracing failure.

- Alice

BROAD

Issue 001: New Beginnings

Becoming Butch Throughout most of my life, ‘butch’ had been a dirty word.

It was fine to be a tomboy as I was growing up, but it was never okay to challenge the boundaries of femininity to a point where you could be perceived as the aforementioned ‘profanity’.

When I reluctantly came out to my mother in 2019, one of the first conditions of her acceptance was that I didn’t cut my hair, something I’ve come to realise is common for parents to say to their queer daughters. Long hair is feminine, and to be feminine is to be beautiful. So much of a woman’s worth has historically been based on her appearance, so it’s not surprising that a mother’s instinct is to protect her child’s value.

Phoebe Waller-Bridge said it best in Fleabag: “Hair is everything. We wish it wasn’t so we could actually think about something else occasionally, but it is. It’s the difference between a good day and a bad day. We’re meant to think that it’s a symbol of power, that it’s a symbol of fertility. Some people are exploited for it… Hair is everything”.

Much like Samson in the Bible, a lengthy mane to me represented some kind of armour and strength. It allowed me to dress in boys’ clothes, have a makeup-free face, and walk swaying my shoulders instead of my hips without garnering too much negative attention. In contrast to Samson, my hair shielded me from masculinity and preserved my femininity in a way I was deeply afraid to sacrifice, no matter how much I wanted to.

Having long hair never really felt right and I didn’t know what to do with it. Curling wouldn’t work, french plaits absolutely not; sea salt spray, backcombing, volumising powder - you name it, I’d tried it and failed. Don’t even get me started on messy buns - little has frustrated me quite as much as being bested by this ‘effortless’ updo.

I had no idea how to be a girl, or what I thought a girl was supposed to be. My everyday and favourite look was a scraped-back high ponytail, but I got the most compliments when I felt most uncomfortable: wearing my hair down, free and wrestling with the Irish wind.

Honestly, my hair angered me. It felt like it worked against and not with me, but like many toxic relationships, I couldn’t bring myself to cut ties. However, that didn’t stop me from having adulterous thoughts about life with a tight trim.

I often worry that many of my decisions are ruled by fear, and it was certainly true in this case. I was afraid that if I cut

my hair, my double chin, plump cheeks and chubby eyelids (yes, really) would be accentuated. Truthfully, I was terrified of being ugly and having the arguments of the naysayers ring true.

However, when I agreed to my mother’s compromise during that painful car journey several years ago, I knew it was a promise I would break once I found the courage I believed to be hiding somewhere within me.

It surfaced in 2022, at 11am on the 11th day, when I finally forced myself to enter a barbershop and dump the dead weight.

As I sat in the chair, the inches shredding from my head, I waited patiently for the debilitating panic to set in. It never did, and instead, I was filled with immense pride. At last, my inner and outer selves aligned.

I felt lighter, no longer carrying around the burden of conformity. To be called beautiful meant something entirely different now. It was to be complimented for authenticity, commended for resisting. This beauty felt unique to me, the result of something I sculpted rather than something I plagiarised.

It has been over a year since then, and, aided hugely by my cropped cut, I have never felt more confident in my androgyny. Although I had tried to avoid being butch for most of my life, I realised that it wasn’t something I became but rather something I was born.

I was butch in a ball gown at my secondary school Debs, and butch in a suit at my college graduation. I was butch with a boy’s arm wrapped around my waist, and butch with a girl’s acrylics caressing my neck. I was butch with my long, thick, luscious locks, and butch with my hair shaved tight to my skull.

Written by Alice Linehan This article originally appeared in GCN Magazine

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Three rockstars in love

On the Monday evening of the Dublin Boygenius concert, around half of Street 66’s clientele were wearing shirts and ties. The other half signalled their gayness through other means, like their Dr Martens, or their waistcoats over vests that revealed arms dotted with patchwork tattoos. Some had carabiners clipped to their belts, holding their house keys and lighters, making the wearer jingle as they walked to the bar to order another round of Guinness.

There’s something fun about leaning into the cultural signifiers associated with lesbianism, especially when you’re going to a gathering where you know that the majority of the people there will be queer. At a Boygenius gig, that thought is essentially a given.

In All The Things She Said: Everything I Know About Modern Lesbian and Bi Culture, Daisy Jones wrote that “the fashion choices of queer women have never just been about shaking off the male gaze, where relevant. They’re also about embracing and inviting the female gaze, or else simply dressing for yourself, on your own terms.”

Have a look at some photos of Boygenius and you’ll see this point in action. For Rolling Stone they replicated Nirvana’s iconic 1994 cover,

gazing confidently at the camera in matching pinstripe suits. A shoot for Alternative Press saw the trio clad in denim in a homage to the 2005 queer cowboy drama Brokeback Mountain, the images a perfect cocktail of camp, horny and melancholy. Their stage outfits nearly always incorporate some element of menswear, from a shirt and tie to a full-blown suit.

As Jones puts it, “queer women’s styles become so because they push back against ideas of how women should dress, how we should behave.

And then, as a result, they become a way of signalling queerness.”

In the gay bar, and at the gig itself, everyone was signalling, hard.

Queer musicians have always existed (give me a pint and ask me about the cultural importance of Tegan & Sara; I’ll tell you all about it), but recent years have seen them take on new heights in popular culture. Hayley Kiyoko was one of the big ones, releasing ‘Girls Like Girls’ in 2015, the same year that both Ireland and the United States legalised gay marriage. From 2018 onwards, a wave of queer musicians arrived on the charts. Clairo dropped ‘Bags’ and broke a million gay hearts, “do you listen to girl in red?” became a universal pick-up line thanks to

TikTok, and MUNA appeared on the scene with a classically lesbian origin story: a band made up of three best friends, two of whom were exes.

And then there was Boygenius, the supergroup made up of Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus and Phoebe Bridgers.

The band’s first headline Dublin gig had a capacity of 15,000 and came hot off the heels of a sold-out show in London’s Gunnersbury Park.

After Dublin, they were heading back to the States to play massive headline shows in famed venues such as Madison Square Garden and the Hollywood Bowl.

The rise they’ve had since the launch of their self-titled EP in 2018 has been nothing short of stratospheric. Their 2023 album the record is what turned them, both as a band and as solo artists, into bona fide superstars. As Jesse Callahan Bryant puts it in his ‘Music Letter #2’ on Substack: “a sad fucking band is selling out football stadiums”.

Every generation needs a tortured rockstar or two. Now, we have three.

Ask any indie-head to describe “sad girl music” and they will likely mention

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Boygenius.

it’s also their closeness with each other. The TikTok algorithm knows I’m a fan (or perhaps it just knows I’m gay), so I often get served videos of them performing. The videos range from tender moments of them hugging midsong to thirsty fancams of the band members kissing. The comments are passionate and fawning: “I love them so fucking much”, “my mothers forreal”, “I wish I had a friendship like this”, “brb killing myself”.

often encompassing both at once. It’s the type of dynamic where you know each other’s deepest childhood trauma and also have an underlying sexual tension that may or may not ever be addressed.

The kissing is something they do a lot. At the Dublin gig, during the last song, they rolled around on the floor of the stage and started making out, a pile of limbs and hair and laughter. Hands holding phones were thrust into the air in an attempt to capture the moment. A few of them ripped their white shirts open to reveal their braless chests under the stage lights. The crowd, naturally, went wild.

Towards the end of the Dublin set, Phoebe Bridgers asked fans not to record their performance of ‘Letter to an Old Poet’ because it was a difficult one for her to sing. Everyone listened and put their phones away - a rarity for any gig in 2023 and a testament to the command they have over their audience.

Their music oscillates between themes of friendship, isolation, heartbreak, existentialism, listlessness, rage and transformation. They write songs about relationship breakdowns, literal breakdowns, the healing companionship of pets, how friends become family, making art and wondering what the point of it all is.

At the Dublin gig, the crowd sang loudest during the lines “kill the bourgeoisie” and “I don’t know why I am the way I am”. The crowd was largely made up of young women, with the biggest cohort being people in their twenties.

It makes sense why Boygenius’s music strikes such a chord at this life stage, a time fraught with insecurity, confusion and comparison.

Your experience in the world can change from euphoric to existential within the hour. It’s reassuring to consume art that confirms that no one has it figured out - not you, not the person next to you, and not even the people singing on stage. All you can do is hold on to each other and try to survive.

The band’s intimacy with their audience isn’t the only explanation for their popularity;

Many superfans enjoy theorising about whether certain members of the trio are in a romantic relationship, or if certain songs are about specific famous exes. This sort of intense speculation is not new to the band; it’s something they have discussed in interviews and their own music. Unfortunately, it’s commonplace that being famous today comes with an eerie and inappropriate level of parasociality.

While I think we could all do with being less invested in the personal lives of strangers, even if they are our favourite artists, I can also understand why they strike such a chord with their audience. We have always idolised celebrities, but for queer people, there were very few who actually looked, sounded and behaved like us.

As we have established, the members of Boygenius often dress like us; their lyrics skilfully describe the confusing emotional states many of us find ourselves in; and the way they behave with each other seems awfully familiar, too. In a way, Boygenius is a microcosm of the beautifully messy intricacies of queer relationships, which can skew the blurry line between platonic and romantic,

In a cultural landscape that has been starved of authentic queer representation for so long, it’s no wonder why people lose their minds when they walk on stage.

It was dark by then, and the crowd of thousands fell quiet. As she sang, she walked off the stage and towards the barrier, where the most dedicated of fans had spent the day waiting. She climbed up and sang the rest of the song leaning against the railing, surrounded by awe-struck fans trying to get as close to her as they physically could. Some were crying, others looked stunned, many were exuding pure joy.

The scene was illuminated on the LED screens next to the stage, making it larger than life.

Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus didn’t follow, but sat next to each other on a step on the stage, taking it all in. It looked ritualistic, Renaissance-like. Hands snaked all around Bridgers as she sang, reaching for her hair, trying to touch her face as if to check that she was real. They stared at her like she was an angel, perhaps even a god.

Written by Kerry Mahony Image: Ben Houdijk (Shutterstock)

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Issue 001: New Beginnings

Pearls for the girls In recent years, pearls have experienced a renaissance, adding a dash of feminine elegance to more masculine wardrobes. Seen on male celebrities like Timothée Chalamet, Harry Styles, Barry Keoghan and A$AP Rocky, as the fashion industry continues its embrace of gender fluidity, many mascs, butches and studs have also been among those to soften their hard exteriors with the iconic jewel.

be around. They almost represent strength in a way.”

Dawned “the queen of gems and the gem of queens” by Grace Kelly, pearls are officially the oldest known gemstones and the only ones created by a living being. They were presented as gifts to Chinese royalty as early as 2300 BC, while in ancient Rome in the 1st century BC, Julius Caesar only allowed ruling classes to adorn themselves in pearls due to their status symbol. Additionally, Indian Maharajas and British and European kings have worn the accessory for centuries.

As some masculine presenting queer, non-binary and trans folk continue to take inspiration from what is traditionally known as menswear, it is no surprise that pearls have become wardrobe staples for many as they push the boundaries of gender expression.

In the late 1800s, there is evidence of pearls in queer wardrobes, particularly among gay men who used them as a way to subvert gender norms and reclaim feminity. They became an even more popular trend among this cohort in the years leading up to the AIDS epidemic in the ‘80s, and, coincidentally (or not), we have seen their resurgence once again following another health crisis, the Covid-19 pandemic. But why?

“When things are scary, people tend to go back to things that are classic or timeless,” Angie Kennedy, Vice President of Merchandising at the Zales division of Signit, the US’ largest jewellery company, told CNN. “Pearls have been around for a while and will

Similarly, Yasuhiko Hashimoto, CEO of Mikimoto America, explained, “A pearl was a symbol of power…It continues to be timeless and elegant but can also be playful. Men today feel empowered to take risks with fashion and are trying new things.”

LGBTQ+ activist and now retired US women’s soccer star Megan Rapinoe modelled a Tiffany HardWear pearl necklace for the brand in 2020, with stylist Karla Welch describing the piece as “a modern take” on the classic gem that “creates an unexpected juxtaposition between edgy and elegant”. The same accessory can also be seen in the athlete’s Facebook profile picture, which was uploaded in 2021.

In a 2022 interview with Flaunt magazine, musician Syd, known for her solo career as well as her work with Odd Future and The Internet, is seen sporting an array of different pearl necklaces, one of which is the “talent’s own”, with others from Vogue Boyz.

Other androgynous queer favourites like Billie Eilish and Kristen Stewart have all been spotted rocking pearl necklaces in recent times, with many a masc influencer on TikTok following suit.

However, while this has been a prominent trend throughout the last three years, will pearls survive in 2024? It appears that they may not only survive but thrive as the jewel was everywhere on the spring and summer fashion week runways in New York, Paris, London and Milan. Pearls were included in the collections of Givenchy, Versace, Dior and Chanel, with trend forecasters predicting a successful year for the legendary gemstone. Thus, we can expect to see the queer community continue to champion this look, and who knows what else we’ll have up our sleeves in the new year.

Written by Alice Linehan Image: istolethetv (Wikimedia Commons)

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Issue 001: New Beginnings

A lamenting London lesbian It’s funny the things you miss when you move.

There are the obvious things like your family and your friends and your dog. Then there are the stupid little things, like Hunky Dorys, curry sauce and a good Sunday roast. I hate to encourage a stereotype but Londoners are not meeting the potato quota that belongs on my plate when it comes to a roast. You can’t replace the warm hug that is a creamy scoop of mash with a glorified pancake and expect me to be okay with it. Brits… (insert eye roll here).

There’s a whole list of lacking Irish-isms that can make our nearest neighbour feel worlds away at times. Like the friendly culchie wave as your car meets another on a small road, being on first-name basis with the postman or the sneaky free pint from your favourite pub as a token of appreciation for your valued custom. Then there are the things you didn’t even know you were taking for granted, things you were so excited to get away from and then feel a pang of longing for when you’re gone.

During my last 12 months in Ireland, I complained constantly about the queer scene in Dublin, dreaming of an exciting life in London, a bigger scene to explore with cool new London gays. Hitting up a different club night each week, chaotic weekends in Dalston and Hackney Wick, then we’d throw the occasional dinner party to prove we were actual civilised people with actual civilised lives. It would be perfect!

Don’t get me wrong, there is truly nothing better than a good night out in The George, or a catch-up with friends at 66 which inevitably turns into a good night out in The George. But I was sick of running into all my exes and my friends’ exes, my exes’ exes and all the girls I ghosted and/or was ghosted by on Tinder at one stage or another. Every Thursday night felt like a reunion for the Dublin School for Dykes and every Saturday night felt like reliving the Thursday before.

A good gay night was feeling harder and harder to come by. PantiBar felt like an older crowd and Mother never felt like it welcomed me as it did my male counterparts. Events like Honeypot were breathing fresh hot lesbian air into the scene once a month but still, I was craving something more.

Now almost a year into my new big city life, I’m getting motion sickness writing this as the circle line hurtles between Baker Street and Edgware Road, wondering when the tube doors will open and my lesbian supergroup will appear amongst the crowds. Yeah sure, there is so much more on offer in London, I have queer events coming out of my ears: warehouse raves, girl-only parties, even queer gym groups and art classes. It’s amazing, but I feel you never see the same person twice. By chance you do find a familiar face from a night gone by, there doesn’t seem to be the same… je ne sais quoi.

It’s like there’s an unspoken agreement as soon as you walk up those grubby George stairs, once inside, no matter how many missed Hinge connections you encounter or how many familiar faces you see from the Thursday before, there is a comforting sense of feeling equally known and unknown. I think that is what I miss most of all. The reality of the tight-knit Dublin queer scene I was so eagerly running away from has now become exactly what I’m searching for.

Written by Maeve Fortune Image: Sid Ali (Pexels)

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Dear Mafi, This feels weird. You can’t imagine it right now, but in 10 years you are not only going to feel comfortable being queer, you’re going to start to explore your sexuality more and you will create a safe space for other queer women to do the same. To have fun, to meet other queer women, and most importantly, you’ll understand your parents would NOT prefer a dead child over a gay child.

first love is something you will never forget.

You’ll get to experience so many new things you only dreamed about. You’ll go on your first holiday to Croatia together, you’ll move into your own little apartment and you’re even going to look for engagement rings. Because you love her so much, you won’t want to hide it anymore.

So eventually you’re going to come out to your parents, something you’ve always dreaded.

I know that was a lot, so let me break it down

Coming out to your mom is going to be emotional but soothing. I know you’re really worried about Dad because I know some of his comments are… well... Truth is, it’s not going to go great, even though you take him on a hike to his favourite place and he’s filled with endorphins. When you tell him you’re going to see your girlfriend and not your boyfriend this weekend, he’s going to be quiet for what feels like an eternity. You’re just going to sit there awkwardly at lunch, waiting for him to say something.

You’re 16 right now, you’re starting to question your sexuality for the first time. I guess we can thank Alex from Orange Is The New Black for that. She’s still hot. In two years you’re going to move for college, be completely alone in a new country you’ve never been before where they speak English in a way you’re not going to understand for the first six months. But that’s just the beginning of the journey.

I know you love the “OG YouTubers’’ Shannon and Cammie, Ally and Stevie, and you dream of not only having a relationship with a woman but being yourself, surrounded by a new type of queer friend group where you can connect to everyone on a new level. It’s so fun watching these kinds of dynamics. They meet up for drinks and talk about anything and everything with no judgment, no fear they are making their straight friends uncomfortable.

I’ll let you in on a little secret… that will all happen soon for you too! You’re not going to have to hide a part of yourself around your friends anymore. You’re not going to have to make up stories about the men you find attractive just to fit in. Most importantly, you will never have to be ashamed of being in love with a woman, because they know exactly how you feel.

Now, the big L: your first love. During college you’re going to meet your first girlfriend, through Tinder of course. You’re going to fall head over heels for this beautiful woman. That

To be honest, I can barely recall what happened because I blacked out. But, he asks a lot of questions, one of which is if you want to be a boy because you dress masculine. You will tell him “No”, very decisively, but you will question that every once in a while, and that’s okay.

Now I have to prepare you for the worst part, the thing you imagined every time you tried to convince yourself you were straight with the slogan “I’m not gay” written on your mirror.

He disowns you. He will say words that cut so deep you will still hear them ringing in your ears years later. On the other hand, he will also say “I still love you” after saying all those things. I know you were hoping for the dramatic either “I love you and nothing about you can change that” or “I don’t want a gay kid, get out of my house I never want to see you again”, but it feels weird to be in that in-between.

“I still love you but….” You were prepared for everything, but not for that.

There will be a point where you hate the person you see in the mirror. You won’t really know what’s wrong but you’ll slowly start going out less and eating in more. Years later, you’ll come to admit you were depressed. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, it will be some of the most difficult times of your life. So, you took a bet and you let fate choose for you. You’re still alive. The truth is you’re not going to like that for a while, but you’ll come to realise how beautiful queer joy can be.

Your first love will make it feel like no matter what other people say this can’t be wrong. And you’ll be happy to hear that a couple of years down the line your dad will meet your first girlfriend and he’ll love her just as much as you did. You’re going to have a little family dinner with her family. Trust me it will be awkward as hell, but it’s also beautiful because you’re finally able to chat about a future you never imagined you’d have only a few years ago. Your parents fully embrace your relationship, even though they don’t understand it. Everything worked out better than you could have imagined, so I’m glad fate chose for us to stay.

Now fast forward a few more years, you’re going to decide to create a space for queer people and queer women specifically, because even though it’s been years, you still remember how you felt at that time. A time when even the thoughts in your mind felt dangerous and wrong.

A time when you thought your parents would prefer a dead child over a gay child. And you don’t want anyone to ever feel like that again, so you created the safe space you needed when you were fighting one of the hardest battles of your life.

This space you create is bittersweet for you.

It’s going to drain your energy and affect your mental and physical health in ways you couldn’t have predicted. You’re going to put so much pressure on yourself for Dykon to succeed because you want to prove to yourself that the struggle was worth it. Something good came

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Letter to my younger self

out of the hate you used to have for yourself.

Whenever you think of giving up, I want you to remember that you’re not only doing it for yourself, you’re doing it for everyone else who’s ever felt that way and you’re making sure no one ever feels that way again.

To end this, let me paint you a picture. You have a new friend group. All queer women who understand the struggles you’ve been through.

The queer space you created is filled with people coming out for the first time and enjoying a safe space you dreamed of having. You’re dating a beautiful woman who you’re planning your future with. Your dad has finally come around and accepted you for who you are. Most importantly, you’re happy in your own skin and you have finally accepted yourself for who you are.

Written by Mafalda Hrušková

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HONEYPOT Missed Connections

HONEYPOT is a club night and community for gay girls and friends. They throw bi-monthly parties where they provide a space for their community to gather, dance together and be free, soundtracked by queer, female and non-binary DJs from Dublin and overseas.

We opened up an anonymous submissions box to gather the best gossip, missed connections, secrets and confessions from the HONEYPOT dancefloor.

Find HONEYPOT on Instagram @honeypot_club Image: Jasmin Grace

I fancied the photographer dressed as raccacoonie but I was too shy.. maybe next time Met you the other night and I genuinely like you so much

to the cute redhead in the poison ivy costume, i loved your outfit and vibe!! i hope you had a great night

met my biggest crush at honeypot xxx

Saw you in the smoking area, I wish we talked more

Thx to the gays who shared their poppers with me on the dancefloor, love y’all

met my current girlfriend at honeypot

kissed a girl for the first time on the dance floor last yr, made me realise i’m not straight - haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since

danced with the cutest person the other night

think I need to become a dyke DJ tbh

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Issue 001: New Beginnings

Sapphic Cinema Crossword Across

2 A queen and her main girlies (3,9) 3 The female Superbad (9) 6 Do I make you nervous Corky? (5) 7 A very chaotic funeral (5,4) 8 The forbidden love of Rachel² (12) 11 Kristmas Stewart (8,6)

Down

1 Courting a gemstone (6,5) 4 A flaming hot painting (8,2,1,4,2,4) 5 ‘Silk Chiffon’ Inspo (3,2,1,11) 6 Sapphic Fight Club (7) 9 A servant with ulterior motives (3,10) 10 I love it when we play 1950 (5)

Crossword by Maeve & Alanna Images: MGM, Amazon Studios, Arclight Productions

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Down: 1 Dating Amber, 4 Portrait of a Lady on Fire, 5 But I’m A Cheerleader, 6 Bottoms, 9 The Handmaiden, 10 Carol

Accross: 2 The Favourite, 3 Booksmart, 6 Bound, 7 Shiva Baby, 8 Disobedience, 11 Happiest Season

Answers

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Lost & found When you feel like you’re losing everything, remember trees lose their leaves every year, yet they stand tall and wait for better days to come.

“At least we know there’s a heart in there somewhere!”

Thanks Mam. That really helps to heal the overwhelming devastation I’m feeling right now.

And I think you might be wrong. Although there definitely was a heart in there somewhere, and a fairly massive one at that, I think I may have lost it in the fallout. In fact, it may have actually fallen out my arse when me and her broke up. Left weeping blood on the passenger seat of her car.

Either way, I’ve been trying to find it since, searching for it like I did the Claddagh ring I lost the day I became her girlfriend.

For those unfamiliar, a Claddagh is a traditional Irish ring which has grown to become the ultimate indicator of relationship status among the people of our great nation and beyond. If it’s worn with its heart pointing outwards toward the fingertip, the wearer is single and on the prowl for their next victi- I mean, partner. If the heart is pointing inward, the person is spoken for, committed and free from the hellscape that is modern dating.

I spent 25 years trying to flip that bastard ring and smugly show the world that I was receiving love (and head scratches) like never before. But when the moment finally came, it was gone.

It was my own fault really, it never did fit right. The ring hugged my pinkie the way you would a stranger: with no real reason to squeeze tight. Perhaps it recognised my lack of expertise in the romance realm and didn’t want to commit to someone who neither liked being single nor was much good at relationships. I can’t blame it for getting cold feet.

At the time I said it was symbolic. Lying somewhere in the tall grass of Stradbally was a tiny silver gravestone marking the end of 25 years of feeling unloving and unloved. Now I just think Google was right when it said buying your own Claddagh was bad luck. Because I lost it, and I lost her.

And if I hadn’t bought myself a replacement, I wouldn’t have to face flipping it back out again. Yet here I am, in a standoff with my jewellery box trying to decide which is worse: my ugly naked fingers or being reminded by my own accessories that I’m single and heartbroken. Beauty is pain, I guess.

Still, no matter how much it hurts, I’m grateful to have fallen in love. I often thought I wouldn’t be so lucky in this lifetime.

She used to always say “There are 7 billion people in the world!” to dissuade others from being hung up on just one, and as I navigate life without her, Claddagh pointing out like a metal detector scanning for the iron of another’s heart, I’m reminded of this plethora. In the days immediately after, strangers provide some relief to the pain, writing “Everything will be ok” in chalk on the route of my run. My friends bring me flowers to fill the vase left vacant; they deliver handmade cards and send goodnight texts before bed. My dad tells me he loves me for the first time since I can remember and, even though she might not always say the right thing, my mam sure knows how to scratch my head.

Maybe my Claddagh should face inward after all.

Written by Alice Linehan

Issue 001: New Beginnings

Issue 001: New Beginnings

BROAD

BROAD Thanks for reading!

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