Author: Helen Bishop
1978 Gay Pride going through Shepherds Bush. Helen on the right.
Photography © Pam Isherwood.
In 1977 we had no internet, no personal computers, no mobile phones, just landlines at home (many didn’t have one) and phone boxes (often vandalised). Women’s Liberation operated via word of mouth, or listings such as the Earlham St London Women’s Liberation Newsletter, or Spare Rib magazine (WHSmiths didn’t always stock Spare Rib, but you could buy it, and scan the noticeboards, at independent bookshops like Compendium in Camden Town). Society at large was generally ignorant about lesbians, we were not visible, the L-word was never on air nor in the papers. General perception was that lesbians were either sad (far from it!), that you would not have a good life, or that being a lesbian was wrong. Lesbian Line was part of the explosion of ‘self-help’ activism in the ‘second wave’ women’s movement.
Aged 31 in 1977, I returned to Britain, having worked in Paris, travelled around women’s land in USA and become a lesbian. I knew no one in London. I found the Earlham St Women’s Liberation Newsletter, and went to a very friendly meeting with 15 lesbians at the old Camden Women’s Centre called by some lesbian volunteers on mixed gay phone lines (Icebreakers, London Friend, Gay Switchboard) to discuss setting up a women-only phone line. On mixed gay lines, lesbian callers would often have to talk to a gay man, because the female volunteer was already talking to a male caller.
We all agreed we needed a women–only service, both to provide information and to reassure women that it was OK to be lesbian. First we had to fundraise. Camden Women’s Centre, off Haverstock Hill near the Royal Free Hospital, was a ‘short life’ property owned by Camden Council, a 19th century mansion with a large reception room and dance floor. We booked the women’s band Jam Today, and we went round all the lesbian venues, including the Gateways and discos above pubs (usually one night a week), to publicise the event.
On a warm night with the scent of flowers from the lovely garden, we rolled up the carpets, the band set up, we laid out the food we had made, and we stood in the front garden wondering if anyone would come. All types of lesbians came pouring through the gates, younger women, older women, lesbians from all political persuasions and none, ‘bar dykes’ and feminists, British and from other countries. All very supportive, many added donations to the entry charge.
It was a great evening with lots of dancing. With one event, we had enough to install the phone (about £70, I think) and some publicity. We put stickers with times and phone number in women’s toilets in bars, pubs, shops, sports centres, behind seats on buses, in lifts, even on the tube (but we stopped that after we got abusive phone calls from men).
We started with two nights a week, a 24-hour ansaphone gave our opening times. The lesbians with phone line experience trained the rest of us. On the opening night, we waited. Would anyone ring?
It never stopped. Some women just wanted to find lesbian discos (in some we had an official ‘Lesbian Liner’ to welcome new women); some were struggling with thinking attraction to women was wrong; some were scared to tell their parents; occasionally a parent rang; ‘coming out’ was a constant conversation in an era when lesbians were not visible at all; lesbian mothers were losing children in custody cases; married women had no one to talk to about their ‘closet’ relationship, especially when it broke up. There were silent calls, obviously from scared individuals. And calls from men… some genuinely curious (seen the stickers), some lascivious, some abusive, some supportive.
We got calls from open minded professionals, social workers, nurses, youth workers, teachers, who realised it might be important for their work to know more. This led to us doing speaking engagements.
We always said, ‘We are all lesbians here.’ Some callers were surprised, I think they thought we were a kind of social service, a ‘do-gooder’ setup. We never asked callers’ names, but we logged every call in order to discuss (strictly confidentially within the collective) how better to respond.
We took our Lesbian Line banner on marches, and were active with other London gay groups. In 1978 we appeared on ITV Gays Speaking Up. The director initially wouldn’t include the switchboard numbers, so we all refused to participate until he agreed. That programme doubled the calls we received.
We staged an action at El Vino’s, the Fleet Street journalists’ wine bar which wouldn’t serve women.
In July 1979 The Guardian ran a scornful piece about the Gay Pride picnic. London gay organisations occupied the newsroom, demanded, and got, the right to reply. But that’s another story!
At peak, we opened five evenings and two afternoons per week. It felt good, listening to callers and being positive about lesbian life. After a year, Lesbian Line moved into the Grays Inn Road building which also housed Rights of Women, Homeless Action, National Abortion Campaign and Women’s Aid. A feminist stronghold!
Reprinted with permission from Write women into history, Hackney Howlers