I first became aware of the Laidlaw programme at Trinity when a friend sent me an email advertising the Laidlaw Scholars information evening, marvelling at the level of funding available. I think like a lot of initial scholars, I assumed it was Law student specific, but I went along to the advertised information evening anyhow, which soon but those misconceptions to bed. My idea to conduct a study of the Hirschfeld Centre, Ireland’s first full time LGBTQ+ community centre, came from a desire to engage with local queer history. Though obviously important, the predominance of popular American narratives of queer liberation such as Stonewall tend to obfuscate smaller, local histories. The Hirschfeld Centre has been a focal point for Irish queer histories, much owed to the success of Flikkers, its in house disco, which cemented the Centre’s place in the popular culture of 1980s Ireland. As a Joint Honours student of History and the History of Art and Architecture, I sought to try and study the Hirschfeld Centre in a way that bridged the two disciplines, incorporating architectural history and the study of the built environment with cultural history. At the time of embarking on this research, I was majoring in History, (I have now chosen to complete my undergraduate degree studying History and the History of Art and Architecture equally) but wanted to see if I could challenge myself to conduct research more art and architectural focused. This was a personal challenge; since beginning my degree I have found History of Art and Architecture more difficult, the jump from secondary level art historical education to university level being greater than that of History.
I had the idea to study the Hirschfeld Centre through the Daniel Wood Photographic collection when I first came across the photographs through an article in the Dublin InQuirer.[1] The photos had only recently come to light, having been kept hidden by the photographer for decades. In the wake of a murder of a gay man, Charles Self, in Dublin in 1982, an invasive police investigation sought to identify as many ‘active’ homosexuals as possible. Given the criminal status of homosexuality in Ireland at the time, Wood hid the collection to protect those photographed from both potential criminal charges and from being ‘outed.’ Though the collection had been donated to the National Library of Ireland for public use by the late photographer’s partner, they had not yet been catalogued and made available to the public when I was beginning my project. Gaining access to the photographs thus proved a first challenge in my research, though one that was quickly resolved once I got in contact with Karl Hayden directly. Karl Hayden is an activist, and friend of the late Daniel Wood. He is currently overseeing the collection’s transfer to the National Library of Ireland, but very generously shared the photographs with me for my study. I was lucky in that issues with copyright, which had prevented the use of the photographs in previous studies of the Hirschfeld Centre, had been recently resolved when I contacted Hayden.
My conversations with Hayden, over the phone and later in person, were the first of many discussions I would have with older LGBTQ+ people throughout the course of my research. Though these discussions were not formal interviews, they proved essential to my research, breathing life into my historical conceptions of the period, and providing essential encouragement. Conducting this project has affirmed my belief in the potentials of history as a tool for connection and community building. This was undoubtedly amplified by the fact I conducted the bulk of my research during Pride Month here in Dublin. The month was a whirlwind of work and Pride events, with research bleeding and blending into my present daily life. It was a little all consuming, but not in any negative way. Instead, it bolstered my enthusiasm for the project and negated any fears I had that my research was irrelevant. Pride 2023 was one of anniversaries in Ireland: the month marked fifty years since the foundation of the sexual liberation movement, the first gay rights organisation in the republic of Ireland, forty years since the first major pride march, and thirty years since the decriminalisation of homosexuality. It was exciting, and empowering, to be conducting research into queer history in the midst of it all.
Arguably, the biggest challenge I faced during the course of my research was one of my own making. My broad reading of queer theory and queer approaches in history, architecture and beyond into human geography revealed a myriad of potential different approaches that I admittedly got a bit carried away by. Inspired by Jack Gieseking’s A Queer New York, I had the idea to incorporate mapping into my project, shifting scope away from the Hirschfeld Centre to a broader look at queer spaces and sites that existed in 1980s Dublin. This idea was incredibly exciting to me, and I dedicated a good two weeks in the middle of my project timeline to learning QGIS software and engaging with ideas of mapping queer sites. Unfortunately, however, following through on this new idea proved impossible given the time constraints of this summer research. I eventually came to the (painful) realisation that, though an interesting and worthy idea for a project in its own right, attempting to incorporate mapping into my current study of the Daniel Wood Photographic collection and the Hirschfeld Centre muddied the waters of my methodology and was beyond my current capabilities as a researcher. I have no training in geography or GIS, and despite my own attempts to learn, and the generous help of Dr Jason Keegan (who kindly spent an afternoon on zoom patiently explaining the basics of QGIS to me) the time it was taking to reach a competent level was not compatible with the limited timeframe of this research project. This was one of the most uncomfortable, and challenging decisions I made during this research process. I had to admit defeat and recognise the limitations of my current capabilities. Letting go of an idea I had grown attached to was not easy. Nor was explaining this backtrack to my supervisor, who I had previously worked hard to convince my proposed new direction was viable. There are plenty of lessons I have taken away from this interval namely the importance of recognising your limitations; of being able to articulate and defend uncomfortable decisions; and cliched though it sounds, of being able to admit you were wrong.
In the latter half of my research period, I returned full circle to my orginal proposal to study of the Hirschfeld Centre as a queer space through Daniel Wood’s photographs. However, I do maintain that my additional reading into queer geographies enriched my research. At my supervisor’s direction I created a taxonomy of Wood’s photographs, identifying those taken specifically in or outside the Hirschfeld Centre. My analysis of the Centre involved archival research, primarily the Irish Queer Archive at the National Library. The building that housed the Hirschfeld Centre still stands on number 10 Fownes Street, Temple Bar, not far from Trinity College campus. However, in the years following the 1987 fire that closed the Centre, it has been extensively altered. This necessitated archival research to reconstruct what the layout of the centre would have been from reports and internal memos. A blueprint document outlining an ideal site for the establishment of a gay community centre and a 1985 ad hoc report proved particulary useful. In another stroke of luck, Gay Community News launched their newly digitised archive on the 23rd of June, providing a further wealth of information for my research. Though the archive only dates back to 1988, a series of ‘Fadó’ articles outlined activities at the Hirschfeld Centre at the beginning of the decade. By the end of my allotted six weeks, I had amassed large amounts of information, through analysis of Wood’s photographs and various archival sources. However, the question of how to best present this information lingered on (well) past my initial intended deadline. I decided to write an essay articulating my findings, which went through several drafts over the remaining course of the summer. Through my supervisor’s feedback, I sharpened my analysis of the Hirschfeld Centre, focusing it more on the Centre’s architecture and how it was used as a space. Throughout this process, I continued to engage with writings and events on queer space. A standout event I attended in July was a new walking tour by Tonie Walsh, Irish activist, DJ, and former president National Gay Federation (the group that oversaw the running of the Hirschfeld Centre.) The tour- ‘Sex, Drugs, Saunas & Clubs: Queer Social Spaces in Dublin’s History’- focussed specifically on queer social spaces and discussed the Hirschfeld Centre in detail. I had already been put in contact with Walsh by Joel McKeever, but meeting in person gave me the chance to better discuss my research with Walsh, who graciously read and provided feedback on the final draft of my essay.
This project was community building for me, in terms of connecting with the wider LGBTQ+ community in Dublin, but also in terms of the new friends I have made through the Laidlaw programme. From talking through problems in my ALS group or working alongside other scholars over a coffee, the sense of kinship was grounding. Embarking on independent research as an undergraduate was intimidating; I was more than happy to have some company. This research project was incredibly personal to me. It represented an opportunity to engage with Irish queer history and through it connect with local queer community. In January, prior to taking on this project, I had begun to volunteer at Dublin’s current LGBTQ+ Community Centre, Outhouse, in an attempt to consciously connect with queer community. This project coloured further connections I made, in particular providing a means through which to connect with older generations of LGBTQ+ people. By chance one Friday in the Outhouse café early on in my research, I met Edmund Lynch, co-founder of the Hirschfeld Centre. During our discussion of his role in the establishment and running of the Hirschfeld Centre, he generously offered to share the files from the Irish LGBT+ Oral History Project, a project close to his heart, that he always kept a USB of on him. These files featured interviews with key members of the Irish LGBT+ community, which proved invaluable to my own research. I wouldn’t understand how lucky I was to have met Lynch when I did until my project was well complete: the sad news of Edmund Lynch’s passing broke on the fifth of October. In reflecting on this project, I am struck by how timely it felt, in both personal terms and on a wider community level. I am immensely grateful to have had the opportunity to conducted this project.
This summer has been one of intense personal growth. The scholar’s stipend provided by the Laidlaw foundation enabled me to live out of home for the first time since starting university, which was in of itself a steep learning curve. I forgot that I would need to pack cutlery or crockery, so I spent the first week living on my own with only a mug and a borrowed fork to my name. Learning to manage my own time and relationships in addition to trying to manage a research project was a balance I’m not convinced I got right most of the time, but one I thoroughly enjoyed. The new freedoms in my life were mirrored in the academic freedom in my research. It was exciting. After the pandemic and a whirlwind two years at university, it felt like I was finally getting the chance to grow up
[1] ‘Long Hidden, Don Wood’s Photos of Dublin’s Queer Community in the Early 1980s Emerge - Dublin Inquirer’, accessed 21st December 2022, https://dublininquirer.com/2022/09/28/long-hidden-don-wood-s-photos-of-dublin-s-queer-community-in-the-early-1980s-emerge/.