Blush

By Cáitríona Murphy

Ruby could smell the cold off her bomber jacket as she shifted from one foot to the other trying to get blood circulating to her toes. It crept up her trouser legs and down the collar of her shirt. She wished she had listened to her mam when she told her to wear a second pair of socks today but Ruby’s mam did not approve of her working as a security guard so Ruby could never show how much the cold got to her. Her mam did not approve because she didn’t think it was a job for a girl to do or a ‘young woman’ as her mother referred to her as now. Ruby’s mam said the uniform made her look ‘mannish’ but Ruby liked the uniform. She liked how it wasn’t too tight and it didn’t accentuate anything in particular, and she liked how comfortable it was and how strong it made her feel, confident even.

Ruby has spent 1280 hours working in the shop so far this year, that’s four 8-hour shifts per week for 40 weeks excluding the one day off she had in June for a root canal. She does between 130 and 144 laps of the shop in a 8 hour shift. She walks on average 22,000 steps per shift, including the 300 steps she walks to and from work. She has caught 42 people stealing this year. An increase on last year, probably the cost of living crisis and all that she thought. When she catches people stealing she brings them to the manager who reports them to the gardaí. That’s the protocol so that’s what she does. If people just didn’t have to pay for the chewing gum they sneaked into their pocket, the extra pepper they threw into their bag, or the pack of tampons they tried to hide under their arm then things would just be chaos. We’d all like free chewing gum and peppers and tampons, but that’s just not how the world works. Needless to say Ruby does not like thieves. She acknowledges that she wouldn’t have a job without them but that doesn’t mean that she has to like them.

After finishing her 112th lap of the day Ruby goes to her post at the front of the shop to have a look at the security cameras for a birdseye view of her domain. As she scanned the live footage on the new HD monitors she insisted the manager buy last month, she noticed something suspicious happening at the back of the store in between the ‘T aste of Asia’ aisle and the ‘Canned Food and Pasta’ aisle. There was a woman there who appeared to be putting several packs of tofu into her jacket pockets, of which there were many. Ruby hurried towards the woman, skirting past the queue of lunchtime shoppers, down the ‘Cereals and Baking’ aisle, taking a right at the ‘Hummus and Dips’ fridge, and finally approaching the woman just as she was leaving the aisle.

‘Excuse me Miss’ , Ruby said.

The woman kept walking. This annoyed Ruby, so she repeated it louder following the woman until she stopped and turned. Ruby’s breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her cheeks redden. Ruby had never experienced this before with a man or woman, this level of attraction.

Ruby traced the woman’s face with her eyes from her dimpled chin, up her cheekbones to her eyes that were now glaring at her.

‘Yes?’ the woman said insolently.

‘I, uhm, I…’ Ruby stammered. The woman looked at her curiously and let out a small smile, which made Ruby’s cheeks redden even more.

‘I… I saw you in the cameras’, she finally blurted out. The woman’s smile broadened and now Ruby felt as if her whole face was on fire. Finally, Ruby got control of her thoughts and said calmly but with a slight edge to her voice,

‘I saw you stealing on the cameras. I saw you take the tofu’, glancing down at the woman’s bulging pockets

The woman continued to smile as she started to rummage in her pockets. But instead of pulling out the tofu as Ruby had expected she took out a piece of paper, wrote something on it and handed it to Ruby before walking away. Ruby looked down at the piece of paper and saw a 10-digit number written on it. She wanted to go after the woman and tell her that she had to return the tofu, and that stealing was illegal, and that Ruby needed to report her to the Guards, and that she was banned from the shop… but she couldn’t. She could barely move, she just stood there looking at the piece of paper with the mobile number on it and smiled.

The Door

By Juju

Coming out was like opening a door.

That door had been previously  bolted, painted over in  a  ‘landlord special’  kind of way– when you can tell someone tried really hard to hide something by making it blend in. 

But did it so poorly. 

That door was meant to be peeled off layer by layer.

I thought what hid behind was  my true way of loving.

And that’s partly correct. 

She did wait there with love notes and 3 a.m cooking to feed my hunger in more ways than one. 

She waited with  matching outfits and falling asleep  while FaceTiming and love  I never knew I could feel.

But she wasn’t there alone.

A whole welcoming party had gathered on the other side of fear.

Day by day they introduced themselves to me.

My own reflection came first. They asked me questions ‘Who  have we kept this long hair for?’

And when I couldn’t lie that it was for us anymore, they  asked me to cut it all off. 

And I did.

Split end(ing)s.

I have  also met others like me on the sunny  side of the door.

They showed up weirdly lounging on comfy chairs - none of them knew how to sit. Must be a queer thing.

These strangers  eager to lend a hand quicker than your own blood might. 

They made a home in me.

As I stumbled my way further, I was welcomed in safe spaces.

I danced in clubs to Chappel Roan until my t- shirt was stuck to my back, I sang to the Pop Queens like I was lip syncing for my life. 

What do you mean there are places I  can have fun  without feeling a threat?

It’s been nice to come home to myself. 

For a while now  I’ve been keeping the blinds open too- 

I really don’t mind anymore if you see what’s inside.

Your voice is your connection with your community

By Jacqueline Daly

I thought about creating a fiction piece for this issue, but after some reflection, I realized it's more important to write about my real-life experiences at this time. I want to offer a sense of sisterhood to other queer women and non-binary folk and show that their voices matter, even if the world around us sometimes feels unwelcoming and difficult to navigate.

As a teenager, I knew I was gay early on. Growing up in rural Ireland, the realisation came with implications for my future and how I would view myself as a young adult. I want readers to understand that when I discovered this about myself, there weren't as many options as there are now. Education on the subject was limited, and I was scared of all the unknowns ahead of me as a result.

Gay marriage was legalized in Ireland on November 16, 2015. While this wasn't the start of my own life, as I am twenty-six at the time of writing this, from that moment onward I can say that my life, for the better, was never the same. When I was a teenager, gay marriage wasn't even on my social media feed, let alone discussed in my secondary school, not positively at least. Other students at school knew or suspected that I was gay, even though I tried my best to hide it.

As I got older and the apparent differences became more obvious, the fact that I couldn't get married in the future, in Ireland, became a target for many hurtful comments from some less understanding classmates. So, I cocooned myself in music, books, and playing Nintendo, trying to ignore the prickling sensation of classmates' eyes staring at me like I was an exotic animal in a zoo everyday. I did my best to navigate my teenage years in silence, though I wasn't always successful, to survive.

There was a mandatory silence on any topic involving the LGBT+ community, both in social settings and in the classroom. I knew about the Lego Movie before I knew there were people fighting to ensure I had the same rights as my classmates, to marry who I chose to be with, in my own country. Looking back, it seems strange and a bit silly knowing which was more common knowledge. Before the election, especially among students who could vote, badges supporting ‘Vote Yes’ started to appear. I listened to the radio every morning on my way to school, but I didn't realize a referendum was coming or fully understand what it meant until I saw those badges. The hallway chatter went from a whisper to a roar, at least in my mind.

These badges were like lighthouses in a never-ending storm I had to navigate in my mind every day. They were proof that, despite all the hateful rhetoric I had faced both online and in person, that there were real people—people my age who knew me, who might even be in the same situation or knew someone who was—who believed and openly stated and were communicating that myself and others deserved equal rights like everyone else.

And while I couldn’t fully express it at the time or vote, it did ignite something positive inside me for the very first time.I started paying more attention to politics when my parents turned on the news. I’d scan newspaper headlines for updates and read articles I saw in shops. Yes, I prayed overnight as the votes were counted, hoping the world would change for the better when I woke up the next day and the referendum results were finalized.

I felt lighter after the referendum was over. While school didn't become perfect overnight, the imagined stigma that had haunted me—that being a lesbian made me an irredeemable or lesser person who didn't deserve happiness—was gone. A fog had lifted.

And now the fact that I enjoy peppermint in my tea, ice-cream, and favourite chocolate is more debated among my friends today than who I love or date. Nowadays, being a lesbian doesn't cause surprise. Whether I'm single or in a relationship, I have the freedom to choose every day and it’s my choice. There's laughter, book clubs, sports clubs, music, art and friends in my life, instead of the cold silence that used to surround every decision I made about how I presented myself or how I felt about who I was on the inside.

If you can take anything from these eight-hundred words, it is that your voice and visibility matters , then and now. And using that voice is what breathes hope into LGBT+ lives, the lives of those we may not see immediately, when they need it most.

Never Regret (or..........Mother Said)

by Bea O’Sullivan

A gift freely given

A return unexpected

Though hoped for nonetheless

A gift freely given

Should not a sorrow evoke

The gift of love is free to give

Its own return enough

Just Another Day

by Niamh McGlynn

Strolling around town / hands together clasped

Receiving smiles and nods / as we walk on past

Such a cute couple / we hear passer-by’s say

We take little notice / as it’s

Just another day

Strolling around town / hands together clasped

Looks of disdain and contempt / as we walk on past

Ew, that’s disgusting / we hear passerby’s say

We take little notice / as it’s

Just another day