The wearin' of the green, red, white, and blue: On being an Irish-American

The weekend before St. Patrick’s Day is upon us, which means lots of Facebook postings on drinking, being Irish, and more drinking.  

You all know that St. Patrick’s Day originally started as a Catholic holy day, right? And that the wearing of the green refers to wearing a shamrock, which tradition holds was a symbol St. Patrick may have used to teach my pagan forebears about the Holy Trinity? And that St. Patrick, the world’s first eco-terrorist –  they say he banished the snakes from Ireland -- was supposed to have died on March 17?  And that when you’re drinking your green beer and eating your green bagels and vomiting up your green puke that you’re doing it all in homage to Ireland’s patron saint? 

Well, talk about religious fervor. . . 

Pretty sure this isn't what St. Patrick meant when he said Holy Trinity.

I am not a huge fan of St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not against drinking, and I do look halfway decent in dark shades of kelly. I’m an especially big fan of green when it’s on large bills in my wallet. But I cringe when I see bars advertise St. Paddy’s day green beer and boiled dinner specials, when I hear drunks murdering my grandmother’s language with their fake Irish brogues, when I hear newscasters blithely announce that on St. Patrick’s Day everyone is Irish.  Oh, please.

Okay, this is funny.

My culture isn’t about drinking, or pins, or parades.  And I think corned beef and cabbage is gross. My culture isn’t about charming thatched roof cottages,  Bono, buttery scones  or painted on freckles.  And you pretenders are no more Irish on St. Patrick’s Day than I’m Pakistani, Burmese,  Belgian,  Vulcan, Californian, or who knows what on whatever days were commercialized by the powers that be for you all to celebrate.  Because that’s how modern St. Patrick’s Day came to be. It was all about the green as in cash when in the mid-60s Ireland started holding parades and advertising its heritage in order to open the world’s eyes to all that rocky land had to offer and to start making big tourism bucks.  Way to go, Ireland.  

“This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.” (Freud)

Proof is the pic above. Ick. 

I’m second generation Irish, which means I’m more Irish than most, but less Irish than many. I’m also staunchly and proudly American.  I’m a mixed breed, just like all of the other millions of us who were born here but not born of Native Americans. 

My grandparents brought their culture with them from Ireland. But in the century since they arrived, our Irish family traditions have diluted and morphed into new customs born from decades of living in New England and from brushing shoulders and sometimes other body parts with folks from exotic places like Somalia, Italy, Cleveland, Vegas. 

In Las Vegas, I believe this is called the "barin' of the green."

On Monday, I guarantee you at least one student will walk in wearing a shirt saying “Kiss Me I’m Irish” or something to that effect.  In an accent hailing from the Caribbean or, mid-Africa, or some country that borders on the Pacific, that child will wish me a happy St. Patrick’s Day. I will bite my lip or take a deep breath in order to keep my mouth from blurting out most of what I just wrote above.

 Okay, so maybe some of the stereotypes have basis in fact. .  . 

I will look out upon my class, and remember that all but a handful are immigrants themselves. Many have been in this country for less than two years. I’ll talk a bit about my heritage, my grandparents, then say, “Enough about me and my culture! Let’s hear your families’ stories.”  The kids will start talking about Viet Nam, Nicaragua,  the Dominican Republic, Ghana, and lots of other countries.  

Eventually one of the students will point out that though we come from many different backgrounds, deep down we all share similar immigrant stories about poverty, separation, adapting, holding on to old ways, learning new ones. Then we'll talk about how when you come right down to it, we're all different, but we're all similar too.I know this will happen because this is how it always happens, every year.

It's pretty neat to be Irish. Being an American too? Very cool. 

Yeats is fucking awesome. Yeah, the swearing stereotype is sort of true too.