Author and historian CJ De Barra writes about how sapphics of the past found one another through The Link
IMAGE BY RETRO ATELIER VIA CANVA
When we think of dating today, apps are often the first place we go. Yet the idea of looking for love through a platform is far older than smartphones. Personal adverts are believed to date back to the 1700s, providing a public space to put yourself out there.
One of the most intriguing examples was The Link, a monthly publication that ran from 1915 to 1921. Journalist Alfred Walter Barrett created the lonely hearts style newspaper after realising there was a “crisis of loneliness” during World War I. The war created opportunities for queer women, through greater freedoms or becoming involved in the war effort, such as Vera “Jack” Holmes or May “Toupie” Lowther. After so many men died, it also normalised women living together.
The Link stated it was “not matrimonial” yet clearly offered dating advice and personal adverts. Advertisers had to be clever to explain in 25 words and avoid attention. The letters poured in from across the world, so they used early queer-coded language. Some advertisers were bold to state “same-sex”, but many used: “bohemian, musical, jolly, unconventional or broad-minded”.
For example, one advert from October 1919 reads: “Bachelor Girl: (London) 30, interested in life generally, keen on reading, music, theatres, dancing, would like to meet genuine chum, either sex. All letters answered.”
Another woman wrote: “Bachelor Girl (Chelsea), not ordinary, desires friendship with a few educated, self-reliant, feminine spirits. No husband hunters need apply.” Another from 1918 wrote: “Youth (London) 24, desires refined, lively chum, 18-26, same-sex, preferably lonely. Will kindred spirits please write?”
Possibly the same woman from Chelsea writes in July 1919: “Bachelor Girl (Chelsea), educated, artistic, sport, desires friend, same-sex. Will only those reply who prefer friendship of women?” One advert wrote: “Bachelor Girl (Herts) 26, who has found her ideal woman, now seeks her ideal man friend. Someone good-tempered and sincere, who enjoys music, movies, Mark Twain, etc.”
There is no way of knowing whether any of these letters were answered or if people met up. The Link was operating at a dangerous time for queer women. By 1921, the government was considering the introduction of a bill that might punish gross indecency between women, much like the men. The bill made it as far as the House of Lords before it was struck down. James Harris, the fifth Earl of Malmesbury, referred to it as the most disgusting and polluting subject. He explained that raising the topic would do more harm than good and criminalising lesbianism would increase “blackmail against women who shared a bed as friends out of ‘fear, nerves or mutual protection.’”
The press pushed the idea that more women would be inspired to try lesbianism if they heard about it. They spread the idea that lesbians were degenerate or alcoholics. The People newspaper published an article in November 1924 with the title, Another Phase of the Smear: Women Friendships that People Talk About, that claimed such women were perverts and drug takers. By the end of the decade, Radclyffe Hall’s infamous book, The Well of Loneliness, prompted an obscenity trial for its lesbian content.
The Link finally ended in disgrace and court in 1921. After receiving complaints, police began investigating the paper for its homosexual content and eventually arrested four men, including the editor, Alfred Walter Barrett.
The men denied knowing the paper could be read that way, but Barrett did confess he could have screened the adverts better. They were all found guilty and sentenced to two years’ hard labour at Wormwood Scrubs. “There can be no graver attack on the morals of this country than to establish a paper as you did for the purpose of allowing men and women to commit immorality,” the judge concluded.
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