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Easter Commemorations

It’s pretty shameful how long it has taken to write another post in this blog. I look back and think, how did I have time to write so much just a few years ago? I haven’t lost my passion for Irish history and I continue to visit every chance I get. I still devour every bit of history and culture that I can and I research and learn things all the time but I don’t seem to write about it as much. The idealism and romanticizing of Ireland that I was certainly guilty of at times has evolved into a more realistic, more moderate, and steadfast love of the country and its history. I don’t write about it much anymore and that’s what makes this morning unusual. I got up to go to the Easter Rising Commemoration here in the San Francisco Bay Area as I’ve done in the past, but instead of heading to the grave of a Fenian who was also a corrupt cop and a horrible racist, I am sitting here in the mood to burn bridges and actually writing again. I guess that’s because I find it hard to believe that in one of the most liberal areas in the entire United States, the annual Easter Rising commemoration honoring Ireland’s Patriot Dead is still at the gravesite of a revolutionary but terrible human, who had nothing in common with the leaders of the Rising except for their love of Ireland.

I’ve written about Thomas Desmond before, after the first time I went to the Bay Area commemoration. Back then I cared about fitting into the San Francisco Irish community somehow and my piece on the city’s awfully corrupt and horrendously racist sheriff was timid. It did speak some truth about the man, but I wrote it without calling out their choice of a hero. The Irish Proclamation espouses equality, socialism, and freedom – ideals that Thomas Desmond certainly did not practice in his every day life so many years and commemorations later I feel like it’s time to find a better option. San Francisco has a long history of Irish Republicanism and surely we can find another, less conservative and less controversial person to visit annually, while remembering the Rising. I know that many Fenian heroes and Republican soldiers are often complicated and not always great examples of the idealism that the Proclamation calls for, but in an area that is known for historically supporting the cause and for giving refuge to many immigrants, including the exiled Irish, there has to be a better option than an anti-immigrant, corrupt cop. In my humble opinion, it’s time to look for one.

Until that time, I’ll wear my Easter lily with pride here in the Bay Area and will continue to commemorate the men and women who fought for Irish freedom by learning and occasionally writing about them. For me, how we honor them and where we honor them matters, so Thomas Desmond’s grave is no longer an option for me. Instead, I’ll enjoy some Irish music at my local, tell everyone there who asks why I’m wearing a lily, and I’ll raise a glass or two to the Boys and Girls of the Old Brigade, who fought for a united and free Ireland so bravely during Easter week in 1916 and beyond.

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Bloody Sunday 50

Derry is a complicated place with a questionable reputation. The city has been called everything in the book from quaint and charming to militant and scary, and the truth is that it is all of these things and more. At once Derry is old, angry, exhausted, resigned, and stagnant but it is also young, vibrant, somewhat progressive, grudgingly forgiving, and ready for change. It’s a place full of whispering ghosts, frustrated wails, clanking flagpoles, and joyful, laughing children. If you’ve ever been there, chances are the city has stayed with you no matter what your impression of it was. It’s easy to be haunted by a city when that city itself is haunted.

Trauma doesn’t only affect those who witness terrible events. It is also the pain and suffering that is passed down from generation to generation, lingering in the shadows even when you think it is finally gone. Sometimes Derry feels like a testament to this kind of generational trauma. You can feel the ache in the very bones of the city, and you can sense the suspicious eyes following you in various parts of town. Dark alleys and dead ends can lead to street violence and rough justice, and there’s an uneasy feeling of lawlessness in the dead of night, thanks to the population’s healthy (and understandable) distrust of authorities. Still, Derry strives to heal and improve. It demands acknowledgment and recourse for the injustices it has faced, but it is also a beacon of cultural change, political compromise, and relative peace. That there could ever be peace where so many tragedies have happened is remarkable in itself and couldn’t be achieved without the city’s unwavering people. ‘Something inside so strong,’ indeed.

One of Derry’s most well-known tragedies is the Bloody Sunday Massacre which happened an unbelievable fifty years ago. On Jan. 30th, 1972 the British Army opened fire on innocent civilians during an anti-internment march. Thirteen men were instantly killed, another died later from his wounds. At least another fifteen people were shot by the soldiers before someone finally put a muzzle on them and made them stop firing. It seems impossible that so much time has passed since that day and yet the excruciating and never-ending search for justice has trudged on forever. The scars from this state-sanctioned mass murder are still everywhere you look in Derry and most have not healed. How do you cope with the loss of friends and family members when generations have been denied their proper recourse or closure? How can you heal from something so brutal without any justice? The short answer is that you don’t and when you visit the city of Derry, you know it. Its lion’s share of tragedy is impossible to ignore.

Bloody Sunday shocked the world to its core and changed the political landscape of this region forever. The level of aggression was something the people were not used to at that time and even though the British Army had said they would be cracking down on the Irish Republican Army (IRA) in Derry no one expected them to start firing at a march that was mostly peaceful and full of women and children. Ironically, the IRA had recently fractured and was on what arguably could have been its last legs until those shots were fired. Almost before the dust and CS gas settled, money and volunteers from all over the world were pouring into Derry. The nearly empty coffers of every Irish paramilitary organization were suddenly overflowing. With their blatant disregard for life and reckless shooting, the English soldiers guaranteed that they’d receive the same in kind and they did, for decades to come.

The authorities tried to stem the flow of funds and fighters by claiming that all of their innocent victims were bombers, snipers, and other “legitimate” targets. This only infuriated the region and inflamed the world. Thanks to brave photographers and their anonymous helpers, investigative reporters, strong survivors, reliable witnesses, and generations of determined family members, the truth did prevail and the innocent victims were finally recognized as such. However, as their families and descendants know all too well, the truth is not always enough. They still fight for justice, fifty long years later.

Derry’s many terrible tales are often told by those who are most affected by them. When you’re navigating the maze of streets in the Bogside, you’ll probably run into the son of one of the Bloody Sunday victims who takes visitors on a walking tour, reliving and retelling the tale every day. Families of the lost will lead you through a museum that chronicles the tragic deaths of their loved ones so that you better understand the cost of the conflict known as “the Troubles.” Old men and barflies will tell you amazing stories of the people and the area over pints in the pub. These oral histories will break your heart wide open, but they also might fill it again. The city will get under your skin whether you like it or not, but if you’re lucky it’ll also teach you a thing or two about life, love, friendship, struggle, and the incredible solidarity that humans are capable of, even in the face of the worst horrors we could ever inflict on one another.

The legacy of Bloody Sunday is just as complicated as the town itself but that amazing fortitude is a huge and important part of it. That stoic determination is one of the only tools that the families and survivors have to fight back against all the injustices that they continue to face. Please support them if you can. Take their tours, buy their books, learn their stories. Listen to them when they speak. Follow their cases and amplify their voices. Learn about what happened and how to help if you can. You don’t have to be local to Derry either. If you’re trapped in other parts of the world read some history books, or watch some movies and/or documentaries on Bloody Sunday and share that you did (in real life or on social media) leading up to this weekend. There are Sunday masses and remembrance events in the US this weekend in PA, NY, & CA (at least) and there are many more across Europe and the world. Attend one if you can so that the people of Derry know we remember them and that we still honor the survivors and victims of Bloody Sunday, even if fifty years have passed.

One world. One struggle.

*To learn more about current Bloody Sunday commemorations in Derry or to donate to them, please click here.

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Hoorah me boys for freedom

On this day in 1846, the Poet of the Fenians was born in County Westmeath, Ireland. John Keegan Casey was born at the tail end of An Gorta Mor – Ireland’s Great Hunger – so he knew desperation, injustice, and poverty at a very early age. The plight of everyone around him shaped him and ultimately motivated him to use his gift for poetry and song to inspire people to rise up against the English. His voice was heard far and wide and he wrote The Rising of the Moon, one of Ireland’s most popular and enduring “rebel” tunes at the tender age of fifteen.

John Keegan Casey’s words soon spread to all corners of Ireland thanks to The Nation, Ireland’s most popular Nationalist publication. They inspired defiance and rebellion everywhere they were heard. Though he used a nom-de-plume (Leo) while writing for The Nation, his identity was becoming well known anyway. It was further revealed when he chose to publish a book of his collected works, many of which had previously appeared in the publication. Not content to stop with his words, John moved to Dublin shortly after his book was published to put himself squarely in the Fenian movement. He was a prolific Nationalist speaker and a central organizer in Dublin before the Fenian Uprising of 1867.

That uprising failed and John Keegan Casey soon found himself sitting in the notorious Mountjoy prison. The English authorities imprisoned him without trial and clearly hoped that if he was locked away the power of his words would fade. They did not, but John did. He was malnourished and dispirited and his weakened body would trouble him for the rest of his life. He was confined for eight months and one of the conditions of his release was that he would leave Ireland, living in quiet exile in Australia. He opted for living in disguise in Dublin instead. The authorities may have broken his body, but they definitely didn’t break his mind.

Sadly, John Keegan Casey’s failing health meant that he only had a few years left in him. It is thought that he never fully recovered from his stint in Mountjoy and a fall from a cab did him in. He passed away at the young age of twenty-four. Thousands and thousands of mourners turned out to honor the Fenian poet in Dublin and his memorial stone in Glasnevin Cemetery is still visited regularly. It is adorned with nearly every Irish symbol you can imagine, including a wolfhound to symbolize John’s undying loyalty to Ireland. His songs continue to be sung across the island (and the rest of the world) to this day. His life was tragically short, but his words are still going strong over 150 years later.

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The Mighty Margaret Skinnider

When you listen to or read accounts (including my own) of Margaret Skinnider’s life it’s immediately clear that she was a fighter and a warrior. She was brave and devoted to Irish freedom. She was gravely wounded in the Easter Rising but somehow survived her injuries to continue fighting for Ireland, for recognition and pensions for women, and for Irish workers for the next five decades or so. Her fierceness has inspired many and we’ve all rushed to applaud Skinnider’s fighting spirit, using it to highlight and recognize the important (and often atypical) roles that Irish women played throughout history.

It’s pretty common knowledge that Margaret Skinnider was a teacher, a revolutionary, a union boss, a devoted suffragist, a deadly sniper, a commanding officer, an explosives expert, a smuggler and so much more. We’re used to seeing her as a dedicated, cross-dressing, sharp shooting freedom fighter so it might be a little jarring to hear one of her best friends say that Skinnider was love and kindness incarnate and that she was gentle. Sure she was a soldier who spent most of her life fighting for one cause or another but she was also full of empathy and love, kindness and compassion – and many of the historical narratives (including my own) overlook those aspects of Skinnider’s life.

This is part of a bigger problem. In our rush to make sure that women are counted among the heroes of history, we often highlight only the fiercest and more traditionally “male” aspects of them. We tell tales of how they outsmarted others and how they aggressively fought for something and proved themselves worthy of remembrance and praise. We often ignore their traditionally “feminine” sides in favor of a glorious and heroic tale. The famous photo of Margaret dressed as a boy with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth is a perfect example of that. We remind people that that she was a female sniper and one of only two women who wore a soldier’s uniform during the Easter Rising, and we set her apart from the hundreds of other women who were there in their Easter skirts and dresses. There were many other brave women on active duty and they each brought their own fighting spirit and individual set of skills…some of them even saved Skinnider’s life after she’d been shot multiple times. These women are just as worthy of remembrance whether we know their names and stories yet or not, even if they had more traditional roles. Margaret’s exciting and unusual tale has become more popular in recent years but in telling it we’ve done her a disservice. We’ve all celebrated her deeds but most of us ignored the other aspects of her life. It’s less common knowledge that Skinnider was as gentle, loyal and loving as she was aggressive. She lived a long life full of love, music and long lasting friendships. Her favorite song about Ireland was a somewhat sappy love song called The Jackets Green. She was a lesbian in a committed and life long relationship in an era when that was not only frowned upon, but illegal. Mary McAuliffe’s newish book about Margaret Skinnider uncovers that love story and much more. It is an overdue biography that focuses on Skinnider’s life as a whole, rather than highlighting one or two of her legendary acts. It gives our inspiring hero her entire life back, long after she passed away.

Which brings us to the point, dear readers. On this day in 1971, the mighty Margaret Skinnider threw off this mortal coil. She is buried in the Republican 1916 plot at Glasnevin Cemetery, where she rests next to many of her dearest friends and comrades. To remember her today, why not listen to this interview with Mary McAuliffe where she talks about some of the lesser known aspects of Skinnider’s life or you can listen to Margaret tell her own story of Easter week right here. If you’re like me and you still haven’t been able to break up with the written word, you can find Skinnider’s own 1917 propaganda masterpiece, Doing My Bit For Ireland in various places on the web and in bookstores throughout Ireland. While you’re at it keep an eye out for Margaret Skinnider by Mary McAuliffe as well.

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An easy list for everyone

Yes it’s that time of year again. St. Patrick’s Day is upon us and here on the U.S. side of the puddle, it can quickly become a trash fire of epic proportions. This year I’ve decided to improve the easy list I started a few years ago so that we can hand it out to our shamrocked, leprechaun hat wearing, fake Irish-dancing friends in order to keep them (and us) from acting the fool. Here’s five simple DON’Ts and one DO that will make the Wearing of the Green safer and more palatable for everyone, no matter where you live or where you’re from.

1. Don’t pinch people. It’s rather hard to believe in the age of the #MeToo and #TimesUp campaigns that anyone still has to be told that aggressively grabbing, touching, or pinching strangers is wrong. However, just in case you thought that rule didn’t apply on St. Patrick’s Day let me remind you that it is still wrong to pinch (or touch) any part of anyone for any reason without their permission. It will always be wrong to to touch or pinch people in any way without their consent and many people will be too intoxicated to give consent anyway, so keep your little pinchy urges and tiny crab claw fingers to yourself and just say no. Everyone, male or female, with thank you for it.

2.  DO. NOT. ORDER. AN. IRISH. CAR. BOMB. Seriously folks, I don’t know how many times I have to say this to people. Nothing personifies ignorance, caricature, and casual cruelty better than walking into an Irish pub and ordering up an Irish Car Bomb. You wouldn’t walk into a NYC bar and order a 9/11 would you?! Then don’t order a fuc%ing carbomb, for the same reason.

This horrifically named cocktail is American-made and designed to get you very drunk very quickly. It is highly effective but it’s also named after a weapon that has been used to kill and maim literally THOUSANDS of people in the country it’s named after. No one who grew up in Ireland (or knows its history and/or has a deep love for it) can tolerate the obnoxious name for this drink and for many Irish people, it brings up trauma and terrible memories. It is not funny, not appropriate, and not cool for you or your friends to sell or order any drink by that name. It may get you kicked out of your favorite Irish pub and it could (and should) get you kicked in the face.

That being said, Irish Whiskey, Irish Cream, and Guinness are all very tasty treats. You can order and pay for a glass of each, mix the ingredients yourself, and try a delightful, super-intoxicating elixir. If you work at a bar, you could make up a new drink special just by calling it something else (it’s also been referred to as the ‘Holy Trinity’ and ‘the Ulster Flip’) or you can just refuse to serve it at all and many Irish people and Irish history fans would thank you for it.

3. Don’t misspell the name of the day. If you’re hunting for Irish-themed decor or clothing, choosing a hashtag, or you have some other reason to shorten the name of this holiday, please remember that the correct shortened spelling is P-A-D-D-Y. It’s not St. Patty’s. There are no Ts in the Irish spelling of Padraig, nor any Ts in the abbreviated and shortened version of it. Just remember what a very good friend of mine once said, (very loudly and proudly I might add) – “I always remember to stick with the Double Ds”.  We were actually talking about his taste in women at the time, but the same rule applies here just as well. Which brings us to another important thing to consider.

4. Don’t buy into stereotyping or bigotry.  If you want to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day good on you but you don’t have to propagate the stereotypes to do it. Pass on anything that conveys the message that Irish people are drunks, fighters, leprechauns, or idiots. Find something that celebrates Ireland’s rich culture instead of something that mocks it. The Irish have fought against these stereotypes for years and buying a T-Shirt that propagates them may seem harmless but it isn’t. The only way companies will ever offer a wider, more celebratory variety of St. Paddy’s Day swag is if their customers quit buying awful, bigoted costumes. Pass on the ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’ stuff too unless you are actively consenting to anyone doing just that. (See #1)

Don’t insult Ireland’s culture while you claim to be celebrating it.

One more thing along this line – when you’re using your outside voice, please realize that no one says “Top o’ the morning” or “Give me my lucky charms” ever and that fake accents of any kind are obnoxious whether you’re drinking or not. Just keep that lilt in check.

5. Know your history. In Ireland, Saint Patrick (Padraig) is celebrated for “driving the snakes out of Ireland” which is a metaphor for bringing Christianity to the island and systematically erasing its pagan roots. Thankfully that is not what most people are celebrating these days and many of the bigger parades and parties are more secular in nature. The Catholic influence is also why the color code of the day is green, which is traditionally associated with that faith in Ireland. You shouldn’t have to wear it on St. Patrick’s Day if you’re not a Catholic but you try to explain that to a million and one drunken Grabby McPinchersons! It’s exhausting and just easier to wear green. (See #1.)

I’m all for transforming the holiday from a religious one to a party and cultural celebration but I’m also a firm believer in the whole live and let live thing. Feel free to preach about the wonders of St. Patrick, go to mass, and have a quiet night in if that’s what you wish – or party until dawn howling at the moon if that’s your thing. However, NEVER insist on telling others (ESPECIALLY if they’re Irish) how to celebrate their own holiday. That makes you the asshole, not them.

And there you have it. Five things you shouldn’t do this year or any other for that matter. As for the one DO – DO WASH YOUR HANDS A LOT AND STAY HOME IF YOU ARE SICK. If you’re  happy and healthy have fun, get wasted, dye your hair green, take the green Mardi Gras beads out of the closet, go to mass, wear a shamrock or a lily, sing some rebel songs or do whatever else you were planning to do – just try not to be a complete asshole when you’re doing it. Be sure to think ahead and plan a way home so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else. Have a blast and remember one simple thing – treating other people and other cultures better every single day makes the world a better place. Start today.

See you out there in the trenches.

Sláinte.

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The Mighty Anne Devlin

There are so many important women in Irish history that I could work the rest of my life (which I probably will) and not get to them all. That said, Anne Devlin is the one who started it all. Without Anne I may never have had the jump start I needed to begin writing again. I may never have started a blog and certainly would not have written a book. But it’s not all about me – without Anne Devlin, numerous rebellions in Ireland could have been compromised. Important uprisings would not have happened. Patriots would most certainly have been jailed or killed. Her fortitude and silence against all odds and various forms of torture probably saved thousands of lives, though it cost her dearly.

On this day in herstory, Anne Devlin Campbell passed away – long after her incarceration in one of the most notorious dungeons and prisons in Ireland. It’s amazing that she lived so long given her brutal treatment there. She was an elderly, broke washerwoman living in relative obscurity when she died, but she was never broken. This is some of her tale that I wrote and continue to repost every year in remembrance of this powerful woman.

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The Poet of the Fenians

The remarkably short life of John Keegan Casey was full of lyrical rebellion and inspiring, seditious poetry. His pen was at least as dangerous as the sword, if not more so and it made him a warrior and a target at a remarkably young age. His best known work is “The Rising of the Moon“, which he reportedly penned at the tender age of just fifteen and it is still in heavy rotation to this day.

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Arms Around Moore Street

There have been various groups rallying around Moore Street in Dublin for the last few decades – and some have dedicated a good portion of their weekends and lives to protecting the area from wanton destruction. This weekend (and every other for that matter) you have a chance to stand with them, both literally and symbolically.

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Lyra McKee

Sometimes it seems that there’s never anything but tragic news coming out of Derry. I have to remind myself that there are plenty of wonderful things happening in the town I love so well and so many wonderful people who call it home…but yesterday as I sought those out my heart sank yet again. The headlines screamed out the news of a young woman who was killed in the crossfire on the city streets and it broke my heart.

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Another heartbreak for Derry

The short time I spent in Derry utterly changed me. The wounded city stole a large part of my heart when I took my first steps into it – and my life, my writing, my opinions, and my studies have changed drastically in the years since that first visit. It is why I regularly set the alarm for an ungodly time here in the states to watch events as they unfold in Derry in real time. This morning was one of those days that I got up before the sun with my digital eyes glued to the news from The Town I Love So Well because after so many years of determination and stubborn hope, it was finally possible that the families of the innocent people who were shot and killed on Bloody Sunday would get the justice and the vindication that they deserved. It was easy to be optimistic when I woke up. After all, if the Prime Minister can call the killings ‘unjustified and unjustifiable’ why wouldn’t there be consequences for those who pulled the trigger? But my heart sank quickly as the news came in. The vast majority of those responsible for murdering innocent people and firing indiscriminately into a crowd of peaceful protestors will not be charged with any crime, despite overwhelming evidence that they should be.

It’s more salt in the wounds for the survivors and the families of those who were murdered. To see their astonishing grace and determination in the face of even more injustice this morning was mind blowing. Words are not sufficient for what they must be feeling and to remain so dignified in the face of this fresh devastation is beyond my comprehension. They will continue their quest for justice, despite this setback and the many other obstacles they’ve faced on this journey.  Please support them in any way you can.

One of their many incredible statements can be found here.

https://www.derrynow.com/news/justice-one-family-justice-us-say-bloody-sunday-families/271169

 

Their fight continues. Something inside so strong.