Two queer knitters that connected through their craft are now using it to stitch together Reykjavík’s queer community.
“There are so many people who sit at home and knit or embroider while they watch TV. We thought: why not ping all the queer people doing handicrafts at home alone, bring them together at Samtökin ’78, knit and crochet, and have a good time?”
These are the words of Linda Björk Eiríksdóttir, one of the founders of a new queer knitting club that meets up once a month in Reykjavík. “It’s not really about knitting or handiwork, though,” her co-founder Hélène Magnússon chimes in. “The knitting is a pretext for social interaction. We want to create a community that’s easy to show up to.”
Hélène is a full-time knitwear designer, yarn producer, and knitting tour guide.
It’s not really about knitting. […] We want to create a community that’s easy to show up to. – Hélène Magnússon
For much of recent history, in Iceland and abroad, the best – and often only – place to connect with the local queer community was at a bar or club. While nightlife locales have undeniably played an important role in the development of modern queer culture, community, and politics, in recent years, queer communities have been organising a greater diversity of events, in a greater diversity of spaces. “With the knitting club, we’re taking the focus off partying,” Linda explains. “It’s nice to not have to meet up at a bar or always be under the influence when we meet.”
Beginners welcome
The queer knitting club meets once a month at the National Queer Organisation’s headquarters on Suðurgata street and no knitting experience is required. “If you’re interested in knitting or handicrafts, and it’s something you want to learn more about, you’re very welcome,” Linda says. “If you want to learn how to knit, we can totally help you.” She stresses that the club is a safe space for all queer people, no matter their gender or sexuality, and that all ages are welcome.
Linda works part-time for American knitter and designer Stephen West, while being an avid knitter herself.
With the knitting club, we’re taking the focus off partying. It’s nice to not have to meet up at a bar or always be under the influence when we meet. – Linda Björk Eiríksdóttir
While more experienced knitters are welcome to bring their personal projects to the club’s meetings, beginners can get some guidance – or work on a group initiative. The club recently got a material donation from Icelandic yarn manufacturer Ístex which will be used for a collective project. “We’re going to knit a big worm in rainbow colours: it’ll be great practice for beginners, and then maybe it can be used in the parade next year,” Hélène enthuses.
Better late than never
Linda and Hélène first met through the world of knitting. Hélène is a full-time knitwear designer, yarn producer, and knitting tour guide, while Linda works part-time for American knitter and designer Stephen West, while being an avid knitterherself. The pair then got to know each other better in another club that Hélène founded under the auspices of the National Queer Organisation earlier this year, Better Late than Never. It’s a support group of sorts for queer women who came out later in life, as both Hélene and Linda did, although both say they were never exactly in the closet.
“I didn’t feel like I was in the closet, I genuinely had no idea. I never even suspected it,” Hélène says of her own queerness. “I’m autistic and I was diagnosed eight years ago. After that I also started to suspect I was queer. For a long time, I thought I was bi, but then I had a lightbulb moment. It felt like a knot that had been in my stomach disappeared, and then after that everything was a lot easier.”
I didn’t feel like I was in the closet, I genuinely had no idea. I never even suspected it. – Hélène Magnússon
At the time, Hélene was married with three children. Her first relationship with a woman after her divorce made her feel like a teenager again. “It was like a second puberty, with the same foolishness,” she laughs. The experience of embracing her queerness has brought on all sorts of feelings. “There’s a lot of joy and relief but at the same time it’s really hard: you’re breaking up your family. And it’s kind of strange to finally figure out who you are at my age. You feel like a bit of an idiot, going through life without even a suspicion of something this big.”
Parting of the clouds
“I also don’t know if I was ever really in the closet,” Linda says. “But I somehow decided, or society decided for me, that I should be straight.” While Linda always knew she was attracted to women and occasionally had romantic encounters with them, her long-term relationships were always with men. “With one exception: but she crushed my heart so completely that I didn’t dare to do it again. Then four years ago, I met my wife, and there was no turning back. The clouds parted and the angels sang, and I thought: I’m home.”
Linda says none of her family or closest friends were particularly surprised and they all took the news of her new relationship well. “I also didn’t experience a lot of inner conflict around it. I mostly just found it difficult to accept that I had made the decision so late in life, that I had denied myself so many years that would have definitely been happier than the years that I was lying to myself. That was the hardest thing.”
Four years ago, I met my wife, and there was no turning back. The clouds parted and the angels sang, and I thought: I’m home. – Linda Björk Eiríksdóttir
Hélène says that although the people who come to the Better Late than Never meetings have diverse experiences, they can all relate to each other. “It helps to get to talk to people who know what you’ve gone through.”
Hands, mind, and heart
In the knitting club, on the other hand, no talking is required. “It’s great for people who are shy,” Hélène says. “You can come be a part of the group, but you don’t have to talk. Actually, a lot of people can’t talk and knit at the same time.” Linda adds: “I think there’s an understanding of that in the knitting world, sometimes you’ll just get quiet and make a face, and everyone knows you’re counting.”
Knitters are almost always counting and calculating, which is part of what makes the activity so calming, and even good for your health. In recent years, research has shown that knitting can decrease blood pressure and heart rate, as well as preventing and managing pain, stress, and depression. “We’ve always known that, but it’s been proven more and more by research,” Hélène says. “And there are all sorts of therapies based on doing something with your hands.”
Further down the line, Linda and Hélène want to organise workshops and presentations within the club. They’re even interested in exploring the historical intersection of knitting and queerness. For the time being, however, they’re simply looking forward to the club’s next meeting, on Sunday, November 24 at 3:00 PM at Samtökin ’78.
