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| Black in the Emerald Isle by Debra V. Wilson |
While living in London several years ago
I was encouraged by some Irish
nationals at the church I attended to visit
the Emerald Isle - Ireland. I remember
thinking at the time that Ireland was the
last place on earth I wanted to be.
I was encouraged by some Irish
nationals at the church I attended to visit
the Emerald Isle - Ireland. I remember
thinking at the time that Ireland was the
last place on earth I wanted to be.
Then of course as fate would have it, a soaring Celtic economy, and a more than hospitable
business environment led me two years later in 1997 to moving to Ireland for a year to start a
business. Although Dublin would have offered me a more cosmopolitan milieu I decided to move
to the Irish countryside, because it offered resources at the fraction of the price of those in the
capital city. I spent six months in the hills of Blessington, County Wicklow ? a county very near
to Dublin. The remaining six months I resided in the countryside of Dundalk, County Louth,
which bordered Northern Ireland. I was only in Ireland for twelve months; but I was left with a
lifetime of memories.
The first thing I noticed about Ireland was that it truly deserved its Emerald moniker. It is indeed
a country of greens, as many shades of green as blades of grass in a country field. I never knew
there was such diversity in green. But although there was diversity in the hues of green there was
very little diversity in the Irish population. There were a few African students, a sprinkling of
African doctors and a handful of African diplomats. However, I quickly found that African
nationals felt little in common with an American Black or otherwise. So I immersed myself in
scouring the television for programs that had Black people in them. I did not care if they were
edifying or degrading images; they were Black people. And the sight of people that looked like me
warmed me to my soul; however I was in Ireland to start a business. I had to get out and
socialize. I had to mingle in society, and that proved trying at times.
I was constantly being stared at. Now this might prove annoying for most people, but it was
excruciatingly painful for me, as I am basically a shy and self conscious person. And here I was
being noticed and looked at all the time. Every moment I was out in public I was being watched
and seen. Even the most benign and inconsequential activity such as retrieving my morning paper
from the front door drew an audience.
Often people assumed I was African, and they were surprised - no startled to hear my American
accent when I spoke. I was then to find out that Ireland was a country saturated with images
from American television and movies. Many Irish people were surprised to find that I, as they
said "spoke good English". Several Irish nationals were also taken aback to find that I came from
a middle-class, two parent home. At that time the Irish media was filled with a constant diet of
one dimensional, dysfunctional and derogatory image of Black Americans as a violent prone,
undereducated, dance obsessed people. In the smallest of town in Ireland people seemed to think
that the typical life experience for an African American included violence and personal, financial
and moral chaos. Again I was to know the sting of being summed up before being known. Still
I was on a mission in Ireland, so I had to push onward.
I steeled myself against the stares and the preconceived notions, and interacted with the locals. I
shopped in the small markets instead of the larger grocery stores. Instead of always spending
Saturdays in Dublin I went into the local town and had a sandwich and tea at a cafe. I strolled
down the streets and did some window shopping, and I stopped and chatted with some local
people breaking their stares that were on me like a periscope, and I let the experiences flow.
My dark coffee toned complexion while sometimes shunned and viewed with disdain by sectors
of the Black American community that I was grew up in, was viewed with everything from a
positive curiosity to desire and sometimes envy. More than one Irish woman told me that she
wished she had color like mine.
I also found that the English that the Irish spoke was as dissimilar to American English as Greek is
to Chinese. The placing of verbs and nouns was different from what I was used to. Sometimes it
seemed like the Irish nationals I met were speaking a language only known to them.
Then as the days turned into weeks I noticed a change in myself and the Irish around me. Instead
of noticing our differences we began to embrace the mutual similarities between us. For one thing
my last name was quite a common one in Ireland. So much so that many Irish nationals assumed
I was married to an Irishman. Also they felt a kinship with me, as I am Catholic. And they loved
the fact that I could laugh, joke and banter back and forth with them. What they called "slagging
off" was called signifying in my youth. I was not always proficient in returning the banter, but I
was not exterminated by the linguistic exercise with them. In fact my tolerance of Irish craic
(fun) became so renowned that many Irish encouraged me to trace my lineage, as they were sure
that there must have been someone Irish in my family roots to explain my assimilation into Irish
culture.
I also felt great connection with the Irish strong sense of family which reminded me of the large
extended Black Americans families back home in the States. While living in Dundalk, County
Louth I was grieving the passing of my father. I remember the elderly men and women of my
community commiserating with me and sharing my pain. We would cry over our mutual losses,
and like many a Black American my Irish neighbors and I would laugh away the tears with
humorous tales of our departed love ones.
My deeper acquaintance with the Irish nationals around led me to a place where I was
comfortable sharing my initial experience with their countrymen and women, namely being the
object of many less than flattering stereotypes. With some embarrassment the Irish nationals I
shared confidences with regretted that their compatriots had done to me what was done to them.
And sadly I was reminded that the Irish have often been categorized as the drunken buffoons of
Europe. In fact I was told for many years the Irish were known as the "N***grs of Europe".
Indeed many Irish felt there lives in Europe compared similarly historically and politically with
Black people on the other side of the Atlantic.
After a year's time in Ireland I decided it was best for me to leave the country. I felt more at
home on Emerald Isle, however my decision to move to Dundalk, County Louth proved to be one
that was froth with insurmountable challenges. Although my neighbors were good and kind
people I was too find that the town of Dundalk was filled with political activity that made its way
into the Republic of Ireland from Northern Ireland. Nothing was ever directly spoken in Dundalk,
but everybody knew and feared certain people. Another problem was that although Dundalk was
a great location business wise (inexpensive costs, computer literate community, and wonderful
infrastructure for a start-up business) my business associates from Dublin were afraid to venture
into the pro Irish Republic Army (IRA) town of Dundalk.
That was seven years ago. Much has changed in Ireland since I resided there. Due to several
years of un-interrupted economic prosperity, Ireland has for a few years has been accepting a
steady stream of immigrants (after insistence from the European Union). The sight of a person of
color is less of an anomaly, particularly in the larger cities. The increase diversity of Irish culture
is good for the Emerald Isle; and I hope the reports of racist incidences in the country will prove
to be rare and eventually fleeting.
At the moment I am planning to move back to London, England a city that I feel more at home in
than my birth place of Chicago, Illinois. Still I know one day I will return to Ireland if only to
savior the rapid sociological changes in this small country. There is an expression that says once
you have been to Ireland you will return again, and I think there maybe some truth to that. Even
though my experiences in Ireland were not always pleasant, it is a country that still has a place in
my heart...however this time I think I will stay south of Dundalk.
business environment led me two years later in 1997 to moving to Ireland for a year to start a
business. Although Dublin would have offered me a more cosmopolitan milieu I decided to move
to the Irish countryside, because it offered resources at the fraction of the price of those in the
capital city. I spent six months in the hills of Blessington, County Wicklow ? a county very near
to Dublin. The remaining six months I resided in the countryside of Dundalk, County Louth,
which bordered Northern Ireland. I was only in Ireland for twelve months; but I was left with a
lifetime of memories.
The first thing I noticed about Ireland was that it truly deserved its Emerald moniker. It is indeed
a country of greens, as many shades of green as blades of grass in a country field. I never knew
there was such diversity in green. But although there was diversity in the hues of green there was
very little diversity in the Irish population. There were a few African students, a sprinkling of
African doctors and a handful of African diplomats. However, I quickly found that African
nationals felt little in common with an American Black or otherwise. So I immersed myself in
scouring the television for programs that had Black people in them. I did not care if they were
edifying or degrading images; they were Black people. And the sight of people that looked like me
warmed me to my soul; however I was in Ireland to start a business. I had to get out and
socialize. I had to mingle in society, and that proved trying at times.
I was constantly being stared at. Now this might prove annoying for most people, but it was
excruciatingly painful for me, as I am basically a shy and self conscious person. And here I was
being noticed and looked at all the time. Every moment I was out in public I was being watched
and seen. Even the most benign and inconsequential activity such as retrieving my morning paper
from the front door drew an audience.
Often people assumed I was African, and they were surprised - no startled to hear my American
accent when I spoke. I was then to find out that Ireland was a country saturated with images
from American television and movies. Many Irish people were surprised to find that I, as they
said "spoke good English". Several Irish nationals were also taken aback to find that I came from
a middle-class, two parent home. At that time the Irish media was filled with a constant diet of
one dimensional, dysfunctional and derogatory image of Black Americans as a violent prone,
undereducated, dance obsessed people. In the smallest of town in Ireland people seemed to think
that the typical life experience for an African American included violence and personal, financial
and moral chaos. Again I was to know the sting of being summed up before being known. Still
I was on a mission in Ireland, so I had to push onward.
I steeled myself against the stares and the preconceived notions, and interacted with the locals. I
shopped in the small markets instead of the larger grocery stores. Instead of always spending
Saturdays in Dublin I went into the local town and had a sandwich and tea at a cafe. I strolled
down the streets and did some window shopping, and I stopped and chatted with some local
people breaking their stares that were on me like a periscope, and I let the experiences flow.
My dark coffee toned complexion while sometimes shunned and viewed with disdain by sectors
of the Black American community that I was grew up in, was viewed with everything from a
positive curiosity to desire and sometimes envy. More than one Irish woman told me that she
wished she had color like mine.
I also found that the English that the Irish spoke was as dissimilar to American English as Greek is
to Chinese. The placing of verbs and nouns was different from what I was used to. Sometimes it
seemed like the Irish nationals I met were speaking a language only known to them.
Then as the days turned into weeks I noticed a change in myself and the Irish around me. Instead
of noticing our differences we began to embrace the mutual similarities between us. For one thing
my last name was quite a common one in Ireland. So much so that many Irish nationals assumed
I was married to an Irishman. Also they felt a kinship with me, as I am Catholic. And they loved
the fact that I could laugh, joke and banter back and forth with them. What they called "slagging
off" was called signifying in my youth. I was not always proficient in returning the banter, but I
was not exterminated by the linguistic exercise with them. In fact my tolerance of Irish craic
(fun) became so renowned that many Irish encouraged me to trace my lineage, as they were sure
that there must have been someone Irish in my family roots to explain my assimilation into Irish
culture.
I also felt great connection with the Irish strong sense of family which reminded me of the large
extended Black Americans families back home in the States. While living in Dundalk, County
Louth I was grieving the passing of my father. I remember the elderly men and women of my
community commiserating with me and sharing my pain. We would cry over our mutual losses,
and like many a Black American my Irish neighbors and I would laugh away the tears with
humorous tales of our departed love ones.
My deeper acquaintance with the Irish nationals around led me to a place where I was
comfortable sharing my initial experience with their countrymen and women, namely being the
object of many less than flattering stereotypes. With some embarrassment the Irish nationals I
shared confidences with regretted that their compatriots had done to me what was done to them.
And sadly I was reminded that the Irish have often been categorized as the drunken buffoons of
Europe. In fact I was told for many years the Irish were known as the "N***grs of Europe".
Indeed many Irish felt there lives in Europe compared similarly historically and politically with
Black people on the other side of the Atlantic.
After a year's time in Ireland I decided it was best for me to leave the country. I felt more at
home on Emerald Isle, however my decision to move to Dundalk, County Louth proved to be one
that was froth with insurmountable challenges. Although my neighbors were good and kind
people I was too find that the town of Dundalk was filled with political activity that made its way
into the Republic of Ireland from Northern Ireland. Nothing was ever directly spoken in Dundalk,
but everybody knew and feared certain people. Another problem was that although Dundalk was
a great location business wise (inexpensive costs, computer literate community, and wonderful
infrastructure for a start-up business) my business associates from Dublin were afraid to venture
into the pro Irish Republic Army (IRA) town of Dundalk.
That was seven years ago. Much has changed in Ireland since I resided there. Due to several
years of un-interrupted economic prosperity, Ireland has for a few years has been accepting a
steady stream of immigrants (after insistence from the European Union). The sight of a person of
color is less of an anomaly, particularly in the larger cities. The increase diversity of Irish culture
is good for the Emerald Isle; and I hope the reports of racist incidences in the country will prove
to be rare and eventually fleeting.
At the moment I am planning to move back to London, England a city that I feel more at home in
than my birth place of Chicago, Illinois. Still I know one day I will return to Ireland if only to
savior the rapid sociological changes in this small country. There is an expression that says once
you have been to Ireland you will return again, and I think there maybe some truth to that. Even
though my experiences in Ireland were not always pleasant, it is a country that still has a place in
my heart...however this time I think I will stay south of Dundalk.
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