Are carabiners gay
'It's pretty obvious I'm queer': We asked young people how they use fashion to express themselves
From badges for your politics, jerseys for your sporting affiliations or eyeliner for your goth status, there's no shortage of ways that people use approach to mark their identity.
This has been particularly important over history for LGBTQIA+ people to subtly signal who they are and what they like.
There's even a word to describe this phenomenon: flagging
So, how did flagging actually work? And is it something young people – especially those in queer communities – still participate in today?
Flagging explained
Flagging isn't just about what you wear, it's about what's expressed by what you wear.
In the new ABC iview series The Way We Wore, fashion historian from Adelaide University Madeleine Seys explains how clothes played a huge role in the queer community, internet dating back to the 1800s.
She says fashion was an essential tool for LGBTQIA+ people to detect each other and build their communities in Australia, especially when homosexuality was criminalised.
"Flagging begins with queer men in the 19th century," she says.
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“What does a queer woman look like?” feels like an age-old question – or, to be more realistic, a decades-old question. With Dressing Dykes, I optimism that I address it at least regarding specific individuals, or lesbian styles at particular times and places throughout history. However, lesbianism exists in the heart, the intellect and the body rather than in the wardrobe. Clothes are an addition of the sapphic self, a attuned display (or, perhaps, a conscious veil). Because of this, the true interrogate is not “what does a queer woman look like?” but “what clothing is a lesbian signal?”
Often, this comes down to items that have a wide-spread cultural meaning… in other words, dyke stereotypes. Stereotypical woman loving woman fashions, like aware footwear, are based in more reality than many other stereotypes in famous culture, since lesbians (and other gay people) have historically desired to extend out to other members of their community. When this cannot be done with familial, pre-established bonds, in the way that communities may be forged in other marginalised groups, other methods are necessary. To utilise a female homosexual fashion stereotype is to signal, and to flash a lesbian light into
Carabiners — those sturdy, metal clips usually seen securing ropes and gear — might not seem appreciate an obvious symbol of LGBTQ+ culture at first glance. But behind their practical appearance lies a rich history that connects them to lesbian culture, tracing all the way back to World War II and the symbolism of keys among women. Let’s dive into the fascinating story of how carabiners became a silent but powerful emblem within the lesbian community.
🌍 A Symbol of Strength and Resilience
Originally designed for climbers and mountaineers, carabiners illustrate strength, security, and self-rule — qualities that deeply resonate within the sapphic community. Over time, what started as a piece of functional gear evolved into a meaningful accessory, symbolising self-reliance and solidarity.
🗝️ WWII and the Authority of the Key
During Earth War II, women took on critical roles in factories, the military, and other industries, often holding literal keys to workplaces and important buildings. Keys soon gained symbolic interpretation, representing control, autonomy, and hidden identities.
For many lgbtq+ women, keys became a subtle way to signal belonging to underground feminist and LGBTQ+ circle
Lesbians and Key Rings: a Cultural Love Story
There’s a beautiful scene in the memoir-turned-musical Fun Home where an elementary school–aged Alison Bechdel spots a masculine deliverywoman in a diner, an interaction that sparks a kind of epiphany about her own individuality. The little girl admires the woman from across the room, grasping for the right words to describe her fascination. “I thought it was supposed to be wrong / But you seem OK with being strong,” she sings. “It’s probably conceited to say / But I think we’re alike in a certain way.”
Young Bechdel marvels at the woman’s short haircut, butch swagger, and “lace-up boots.” The focal point of her ode, the unmistakable signifier that gives the song its title, is the “ring of keys” on her belt.
That song, and the scene in the 2006 memoir from which the musical was adapted, was based on a true-life moment Bechdel experienced in the 1960s. But look to the waistbands of any modern-day gaggle of queer women, and you’re liable to find a critical mass of jingling metal attached.
The beltside key ring is one of the most enduring sartorial symbols of lesbian society, one of the few stereotypes of our kind that’s both inoffensive