It’s a Sunday evening when I arrive at Dublin venue The Bernard Shaw for Sí-bín’s third-ever queer céilí event. A young woman in a tiara greets me and hands me a glowstick. As I head inside, I immediately run into people I know (classic gay Dublin); we order drinks and head to the dancefloor.
The céilí is a traditional form of Irish dance, which takes place in social gatherings. Céilís have varying levels of popularity across Ireland, but if you grew up anywhere in the country, it’s likely that you would have seen or participated in one at least once in your life.
Our hosts for the evening, Sí-bín’s co-founders, Clíodhna Heenan and Caoimhe Bermingham, are decked out in colourful Irish dancing dresses and backed by their band. Heenan, on MCing duties, says that everyone is welcome to speak a “cúpla focail as Gaeilge” (a few words in the Irish language) if they have it, but that they’ll teach the dances in English, throwing in some Irish words throughout.
The band kicks off and we are taught our first well-known céilí dance, the Siege of Ennis. It takes place in groups of four, and as we follow the steps – holding hands and twirling ourselves around – I find myself with a newfound respect for the stamina required for professionals. The next dances fuse traditional Irish steps with queer bangers such as Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan and Rush by Troye Sivan. Heenan’s commentary is charming and funny”: the three-hand reel (a traditional céilí dance), she tells us, “is like speed dating, but make it cunty”.
One attendee, Lamia, tells me that she loved the event for giving her the opportunity to reconnect with céilí dancing, which she hadn’t done since she was a child. “I found it super accessible and welcoming,” she says. “They put everyone at ease and there’s no pressure to be perfect. It felt like we were all already friends by the time we started dancing.”
Mina, another first-time attendee, echoes this sentiment. “When I’m usually at a céilí, there’s barely any queer people that I know of. Here, the atmosphere is amazing. It feels like everyone’s so proud of who they are.”
A few days later, I meet with the co-founders in Pantibar, a famed Dublin gay bar, and the site of the first Sín-bín event in June 2024, which coincided with Pride month. “We met when I was running a Palestine fundraiser, which I asked Clíodhna’s band to play at,” Bermingham tells me. “At the end of the night, all the bands got together for a trad session and a céilí broke out.” This prompted Heenan to ask Bermingham if she would help her organise a céilí in Dublin. Less than three weeks later, Sí-bín was putting on its first event.
The name originated from a brainstorm between the co-founders and a friend, a fellow Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker). It was inspired by the word ‘síbín’, meaning an underground speakeasy historically frequented by Irish abroad. They opted to use the original Irish spelling and emphasise the ‘sí’ (the Irish for ‘she’) to emphasise the feminine origins of the event.
“We knew that it would attract a lot of queer people because a lot of our friends are queer as well,” Heenan tells me. “Certain céilís could be daunting to go to as a queer person because they’re quite traditional. Usually [at céilís] you’d have a side for men and a side for women. We wanted to be more inclusive and be like, ‘You can dance with anyone and all genders are welcome.’”
We agree that the event, with the tiaras and brightly coloured Irish dancing dresses, feels intrinsically very camp. “It’s very camp and a bit Brat,” Bermingham says. “Celtic camp!” Heenan agrees.
With three sell-out events already under their belts, the pair have big plans for 2025. As well as their Dublin events, they hope to make an appearance at some big festivals next summer – and with the Irish diaspora spread over the globe, an event overseas is something they’d love to realise.
As we finish our Guinness, I ask what they’ve gained from running Sí-bín. “I’ve just had so much fun,” Heenan says, smiling. “It’s helped me to reconnect with céilí dancing and trad music. It’s integrated trad into so many more aspects of my life.”
“I finally don’t feel like an imposter, in a sense,” Bermingham adds. “I used to feel like I wasn’t a good enough dancer, or not good enough to play trad in a session. Now we have this community and I’m just like... ‘This is my culture, this is who I am’, and we’re a part of it. I’m really proud of that.”
Kerry Mahony is an arts and culture journalist based in Dublin
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