A different country

I grew up in Ireland in the 1970s and 1980s — Southern Ireland that is. Now that probably brings to mind a lot of assumptions not only about me but also my upbringing. The thing is I was brought up in a Protestant family (actually adopted — but that’s a story for another time), so that meant I was in a minority subculture. Not only that but parts of the history of that subculture had, not that long ago, been part of an oppressive, and abusive empire. All that meant that there were some messages given to me, both verbal and implied, about who I was and was supposed to be. Some of it was relevant, but much of who I thought I was as an Irish person was in fact erroneous and fed into my insecurities well.

Roundwood Reservoir, Co.Wicklow, Ireland. Photo by author.

First of all, the main message was “Keep your head down”, as I mentioned in Why I hate men. I guess this was a logical outcome for adults of the time whose parents might have been management or accountants or any sort of profession that was necessary to the running of the country. A side note is that most of these “middle” society jobs — not that class is mentioned in polite Irish society — were still at that stage mostly kept within societal boundaries. I digress however from my musings on growing up in a different Ireland. That message of not being too obvious or making a fuss may have come from a sensible place, but it limited my information of what it meant to be Irish. The national broadcaster interrupted our TV with church bells at 6 and conversations of a different country, alien yet familiar.

Secondly living within a Protestant bubble, though in the mostly Catholic town of Bray, Co. Wicklow, meant a sort of skirting around the edges of the rest of the populace. Going to school with few — if any — Catholics, going to preferred shops and minimal extra-curricular activities for me limited my experience of other ways of being. I was fortunate though to have gotten into a school where children from other countries came to be educated, so at least it wasn’t a completely homogeneous upbringing. There felt like there were places you could go, and places one should definitely not go. Preferring the outdoors and nature anyway to sports or similar, I embraced living in the country as it was then. Also being a mile or so outside the town any visit to friends was by car which suited me fine.

By the time I got to secondary — again a mostly protestant school — there was more of an awareness that different agendas were going on, and learning our history sparked some interest. In retrospect, it seems that anything we learned was somehow at a distance as if it was generations before instead of being in our grandparents time. What did we know? We were 80’s kids with cool music and advancing technology like video recorders and computers in the classroom. OK, it was one classroom with a limited number, but they were there. The struggles of the Irish seemed a long way away as we had MTUSA (Music Television USA) and Spitting Image beaming onto our colour TVs. A new Ireland was beginning to emerge.

On leaving school I didn’t feel comfortable going to university, though it should have been an easy thing for me to do a course and then get a job with a ‘mate’ of my Dad’s. That’s how it worked apparently, but I wasn’t going to fit into an easy mould — as a teen I was (according to an old school classmate) “never following and marching to your own beat”. I did some ‘normal’ work, like picking apples and then working in a supermarket, and spent some years working on local radio. These experiences were definitely an eye-opener especially working with a popular blind presenter musician on the morning show. Coming into relationships with actual people outside the bubble and celebrating, and commiserating, with real-life issues was so good for me.

Now I actually talked to people to whom holy communion was a very real occasion, not to mention all the other aspects of Catholic Ireland that had happened ‘over there’ somewhere for me. Also for the first time, there was a hint of guilt for me, in that my ancestors were if not directly responsible for atrocities and hardships placed on the native Irish, but were at least part of the system that benefited them and their privilege. As an adopted child there was even more ambiguity as I had no idea what role my ancestors played. All this was made worse by the behaviour of the Protestant “Ulster men” up north. We were still in the height of the troubles, and even though there were horrible acts done on both sides, it felt to me as a young person that those that were planted there a few hundred years previously had no rights to arrogantly parade their heritage and actively discriminate against Catholics. It induced a fierce shame in me to be of heritage even remotely connected to that.

At the same time, hope was beginning to sprout in the south as we had a female president, Mary Robinson from 1990, followed by Mary McAleese in 1997. New attitudes were coming into the country and it began to feel like healing was starting to come in, and we young people were able to identify with being Irish, rather than Catholic or, as the saying went ‘Kicked with the other foot’! The demise of the churches influence had a lot to do with it as well, combined with the music and entertainment scene –which was more international than ever — and a general improvement in standards for everyone. The defining moment of reconciliation was, of course, the massive defeat of the English rugby team in 2007 at Croke Park, where there had been a bloody massacre in 1920. Although this event had turned the tide in favour of the rebels and the creation of the Free State in 1922, it had left a scar across the country up until that point.

It feels like only now, at the age of 51 as an Irish Protestant ex-pat, that I can reflect on what it is that defines me. I know that although I grew up in a literally completely different Ireland socially, economically, religiously etc. I can recognise now that I grew up in a culturally different country within it as well. Perhaps I didn’t take advantage of all the privileges available to me as the minority, but I feel that I was always on the search for a better way of being personally. To that end, there is for me, no better way than to be Irish and to not only celebrate that but also share what I have.

In closing, I hold dear to when the current president of Ireland, Michael D. Higgins, made me so emotional on St Patrick’s day in 2019. He said “Come and be Irish with us,” and it’s that spirit of inclusion and welcome that is needed more in this world than ever before. That truly is a different country worth pursuing.