I arrived at the Common Knowledge grounds in Clare on Friday afternoon with my usual bag of cameras and some rolls of film, knowing that I most likely had a weekend of rural bliss and queer joy on my soft city-dweller hands. The anticipation of a gorgeous Irish festival felt welcoming but familiar to me. I already could predict that I was going to have some beautiful countryside moments, as I always do when I get back to the west of Ireland. I knew I’d see some of my queer pals from Dublin and get to have a dance with them. I knew I’d probably meet some new types of queer people as well. I felt like I knew what I was stepping into. My predictions were by no means incorrect, but I really had no idea how harmonious all these different hopes for the weekend were going to be. I really had not predicted how special a space like Faoin Tuath was.
The weekend was filled with different events that focused around both queer and rural identity. This included panel discussions, live music performances, a céilí and trad session, shared meals and some excellent skill-sharing workshops. Whether you wanted to get a clearer idea of how to begin to grow your own food and then ferment it, or wanted to try something more creative and create a zine, or felt like connecting to the plants in your garden, there was something new to try for every person there.
I had the unique position of getting to slip in and out of everything happening throughout the weekend as I photographed it. I felt like a little fly on the wall watching queer people come together in such a simple and tender way. Watching completely different people try to bridge the gaps that I have always attempted to bridge in my life between my rural and queer self, and doing it while enjoying themselves so much struck a huge amount of joy within me. It felt so healing to watch and be a part of. The line-up of activities made the weekend so special but the part I cherished the most was winding down in between events and getting to chat to all of the different types of queers that were there.
For most of my queer career, I’ve been lucky enough to exist in a world that has no scarcity of queer spaces. I’ve been able to feel normal getting the train from Galway to Dublin for Pride as a teenager and marching on the streets. I’ve spent my early twenties living in cities, going to parties and raves in Dublin and London and New York, enjoying myself with similar queer friends. However, it felt like those spaces didn’t appear in my life until I left the countryside. I grew up in rural Galway on a beef farm run by my Dad. Being queer and being from the west of Ireland have always both been huge parts of my identity but even when I’ve wanted them to, they have never really felt hugely synonymous. It’s always felt like a task to bridge that gap within myself.
I felt something special click in my mind over my time at Faoin Tuath and I saw the same realisation through the eyes of the array of different queers sharing the experience with me. It became clearer and clearer how possible and important queer communities and spaces are in the countryside. The people at Queer Sheds are not only giving us the tools to bridge those gaps between queer and rural life but also the spaces and confidence to develop them together and help each other continue to grow.
