Lesbian land:

Why are there so many of us in Hebden Bridge?

A shop named ‘Ruby Shoesday’ catches my eye; its wares are advertised as ‘sensible shoes’ and I spot a rust-coloured pair of Dr. Martens ankle boots in the window, but there isn’t a stiletto in sight.

Further down the road there’s an Organic House café selling a rather odd looking array of gluten-free and vegan cakes.

My personal favourite, though, is a lesbian-run plumbing business named ‘Stopcocks’.

Welcome to West Yorkshire’s Hebden Bridge: lesbian capital of Britain. With a population of 4,500, there are an estimated 800 lesbians in this market town. Some residents have even claimed that lesbians outnumber their straight sisters by six to one.

I am a lesbian of 40-odd years standing who loves being close to multiplex cinemas and good restaurants; I cannot get to grips with the idea of living in a small town in the countryside.

I don’t suit either walking gear or trekking through rough terrain whilst discussing local scandal.

The reason I’m in Hebden Bridge, however, is to discover whether it represents the political, social and sexual utopia that I used to dream of when fighting on the barricades of the women’s movement in the 70s.

Or is it, in fact, a parody of itself – liberation stifled by woolly liberalism and every cliché about lesbians coming horribly true in an atmosphere of small town cosiness?

Market Street, the main shopping hub, is lined with lesbian-owned and run businesses, and walking it along it, I appreciate the stone houses reminiscent of a Bronte costume drama and the rolling hills above. It is both old-fashioned and modern new age. Ten minutes out of the town are beautiful riverside walks in wooded valleys.

How odd - or is it? - that such a town is more notorious for the sexual preferences of many of its women than anything else.

Margaret Thatcher's former press secretary Sir Bernard Ingham was a Hebden Bridge native – and is perhaps in part unwittingly responsible for the high numbers of lesbians that moved there.

In 2001, when census figures revealed the gay ways of his beloved hometown, Ingham wrote in his column for the local paper that the fact that so many lesbians had moved there did not ‘say much for the men of Hebden Bridge’, and pondered on what life was like ‘BL’ (before lesbians). 

Such was Ingham's distaste, he persuaded BBC2’s current affairs programme ‘Inside Out’ to highlight the lesbian influx in a documentary, charting his horror at the ‘ruination’ of this fine part of the country. 

Ironically, all this publicity resulted in many young, isolated lesbian couples moving to the area, and for months after the programme aired, they could be seen holding hands as they peered into estate agent windows.

It brought good business to Hebden - obviously not quite Ingham's intention.

The stunning countryside was not the only attraction for lesbians migrating to the area in the late 1970s and early 1980s – there was also cheap housing.

The former mill town had suffered terribly when the mills closed, and the decaying textile town was left partly abandoned, with people unable to afford to stay.

Hippies began to move there, attracted by the alternative lifestyle and the chance to build communities almost with their bare hands, and lesbians were hot on their heels.

I pass a number of lesbians who are obvious not because they necessarily conform to stereotype - after all, in a hippy enclave like Hebden all the women have, by default, an easier time eschewing such feminine trappings as make up and dresses. I got chatting to them through a contact of mine who moved to Hebden six years ago and was happy to introduce me to others ‘in the community’.

Sarah lives in a pretty apartment in Hebden with her partner Tina and their four-year-old son, Kai.

Sarah moved to the town ten years ago, having previously lived in Todmorden – another lesbian enclave in Calderdale, but far less middle-class.

‘I am sometimes asked: “Where does one go to meet other lesbians?” and I say: “The Co-op?”’

Tina joins in, recalling a woman from New Zealand who approached her in the street and said she had come to Hebden to meet other lesbians, asking where she should go to find them. She says: ‘I told her we are everywhere.’

Sarah and Tina have lived together since 2007, and two years later Tina became pregnant by sperm donor insemination through a fertility clinic.

Sarah is a governor at Kai’s school. ‘It is an easy place to be lesbian parents,’ says Sarah, who works with children with special needs. ‘I don’t think our son will be bullied here for having two mums.’

One of Kai’s school friends has a lesbian grandma and there are always other gay women in the playground dropping off and collecting their offspring.

‘All kids benefit from mixing with others from diverse backgrounds,’ says Sarah. ‘It leads to acceptance and open-mindedness which is always a good thing.’

Is there a slight irony that so many lesbian mothers mention the positives of children mixing with children from different backgrounds when, for example, the monthly disco down the road in Todmorden is women only?

Personally, I don’t think so. There is no women or lesbian only commercial venue in Hebden, where lesbians seem happy to mix with anyone who accepts their way of life.

Generously-endowed with lesbian-run businesses as Hebden is, the rest of the country could learn from its inclusivity - there is no sense of segregation from the mainstream population at all.

Many of these women have moved from Leeds and Manchester and run their own businesses from home offering services such as therapy, homoeopathy and manual trades. Burst a pipe and you are more likely to get a lesbian with an oversized tool bag clipped to her 501s than a geezer scratching his bald patch.

Hebden also boasts Lamppost – the first ever café for dogs. Serving cakes and treats (sugar, salt and preservative free) and more decadent snacks for humans, it is run by Kate and Claire, who are lifelong best friends.

They share a love of dogs and strong family connections – but not a sexual preference.

‘My mum is Kate’s Godmother,’ says Claire, a lesbian in a long-term relationship.

‘My mum worried that Kate would never find a man and that she would catch “les-itus”,’ laughed Claire.

The Lamppost is another popular spot for lesbians (many of whom have pets) to gather and socialise, and is also popular with other locals.

‘The other day we were pretty full up with kids, single mothers, families, old people, and of course, lesbians. Everyone was chatting away about their pets, and I realised that dogs really bring people together, whoever they are.’

The town is also home to a lesbian choir, walking group and bird-watching society. Inhabitants with a taste for rambling are well catered for, with plenty of North Face and Millets outlets flogging gear.

Admittedly there is not usually such a wide choice of socialising for lesbians in other towns or even cities. I have no doubt it would be beneficial to have such a focal point for lesbians elsewhere, so that those new to town need never feel isolated.

Not all the women are in relationships and there appear to be a number of single women who move to Hebden at least partly to find a partner.

I ask several of the women if there is a vibrant dating scene and I am told it has its moments. Certainly, there are a number of women who share the town with several ex-lovers.

Some of the lesbians in Hebden are of the young, lipstick, variety and many are old-school who knit their own yogurt, sleep on futons and make organic muesli.

Despite my cynicism I found attractive aspects to the town. Who would not love a candle shop run by gay men, where you can find cup cakes and swans made from scented wax?

Until it was flooded last year, the men who own the Yorkshire Soap Company used to run an interior design store called Home …Oh!

I also love the lack of stress amongst the women I meet, as well as the absence of the ghetto mentality I have become so used to as a lesbian constantly dodging homophobic reactions.

And, according to a number of straight and lesbian people who know Hebden well, the kids just love growing up in such a beautiful town.

The high proportion of lesbians does not mean there are fewer children. Far from it – many of the women, and indeed the wider community, move to Hebden to start a family.

Maria’s six-year old daughter Kally also goes to Central Street school; in her class almost one-third have lesbian parents.

‘Hebden is a much better environment for bringing up kids,’ says Maria when we meet in Nelson’s, the lesbian-owned wine bar in the centre of town.

Maria moved from Bradford six years ago and had only ever lived in cities prior to the move.

‘I felt more and more unsafe in Bradford, and worried that some of the men on my street were trying to find out what sort of set-up our household was. I became more concerned for my kids, so it was good that we decided to move here.’

Kas is a former Greenham Common peace camp activist. She moved to Hebden in 2008, having spent time in several British cities and in Australia.

I ask her if there is any trouble with local men in Hebden and she says: ‘Rarely. Although the English Defence League (EDL) and British National Party (BNP) sometimes come into the area to wind up the lesbians.

‘What do they expect? To be battered with dozens of rolled up copies of the Guardian?’

Later I meet Ben, a musician who comes into the lesbian-run gift and ethical clothes shop Dynamite with his dog Fido.

Ben’s wife has just had a baby and he and his lesbian friend Karen are arranging to go for celebratory drinks that evening.

When I ask Ben whether he has witnessed any prejudice towards the lesbians in Hebden, he laughs: ‘I’m not a lesbian you know.’

He continues: ‘But this town is full of alternative folk and if anyone showed a bad attitude they would be outnumbered.’

Kate recalls an old storyline on Eastenders when the gay character Syed was upset about being isolated and said he wished he could move to Hebden Bridge.

She says: ‘I imagined a coach load of gay men turning up here, all disappointed when they realised there is no action. We are really ordinary here.’

Next door to Dynamite is lesbian-owned Ruby Shoesday and behind the counter is Annie a lifelong resident of Hebden. I ask if she is a lesbian.

‘No,’ she says, ‘but I used to be. I had a three-year relationship with a woman that ended last year.’

Annie now has a boyfriend and tells me she has received, ‘good-humoured’ teasing about her ‘Hasbian’ status from some of the other women. Annie has many lesbian customers in the shop and shows me a classic shoe they favour. Sure enough, it is flat and sturdy looking.

Does she stock men’s shoes? ‘Yes, and the lesbians buy them,’ she laughs.

I have a strong suspicion that the cliches and stereotypes in evidence here in terms of the names of the shops and other businesses are gently poking fun at the old prejudices about lesbians, rather than perpetuating them. As much as I’m not keen on the hippy liberalism it at least provides a context in which these women can live their lives as they wish without fear of reprisal.

I loved meeting the lesbians of Hebden and felt welcomed and included. There is no question that the indigenous population has benefitted from seeing these women as whole human beings rather than the negative stereotype so often peddled in much of the media.

Children are growing up in an environment that is healthy and positive about difference.

But I would balk at the organic, wheat- and gluten-free vegetarian cafes in Hebden. And evenings spent being regaled with tales of DIY and long-winded critiques of lesbian cinema is an anathema to me.

But one story I heard in Hebden did make me smile. A young lesbian couple were rescued earlier by firefighters, having handcuffed themselves together and then lost the key. 

The women rocked up at Halifax Fire Station somewhat embarrassed.

And I thought the only time a Hebden Bridge sister would allow a man in uniform to help them would be if their cat got stuck up a tree. Even so, I am staying put in London.

Hebden Bridge