Jean's Journal: 'I waved my shopping bag at them!'
by Jean Farrell
I was in Dublin, a while ago, and needed a new bag. I spotted a lovely colourful one and bought it. Going home on the train, a woman sitting beside me, said, “I’m glad to see you support pride.”
I had no idea what she meant until she told me that the rainbow-striped colours on my new shopping bag represent the Pride flag.
Pride, I knew, is an international celebration which supports the LGBTQ+ community. This information made me twice as delighted with my new bag, for I gladly support the right of people to be different.
For far too long, throughout my early life, we were all supposed to be the very same and conform. God help anyone who expressed their own individuality in any way.
People feared change and felt threatened by it. We had to maintain traditional Irish values, which were ultra-conservative. These were outlined to us by the laws of the land, the laws of the church, and Angela McNamara.
Everyone was to be the very same. We were to be heterosexual, remain a virgin until we married, have as many children as God blessed us with and remain living with the same partner, no matter what, for as long as we lived. Heaven would be our reward.
This worked out well for many. However, as philosopher Henry David Thoreau wrote, way back in 1854, "A mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." And women too!
Consider those who felt sexually attracted to people of the same sex. Consider those who thought they were born the wrong sex!
Consider those who were different because they had ADHD and who physically couldn't keep their bodies quiet. In school, the more they talked, squirmed and fidgeted, the more slaps they got.
No wonder what were known as mental hospitals were full to bursting. Many of the 'patients' locked up in these awful establishments were just 'different'!
So, last week, as I walked down Church Street and saw the Pride parade approaching, my heart lifted. 'Gay', with both meanings of the word, came to mind. Happiness and joy oozed from all the participants. I waved my shopping bag in the air, as I cheered along with the crowd who has assembled to support them!
There were many people represented in the parade. I saw a flag announcing 'Parents, Friends and Supporters'. I decided to join this group and proudly walked along with people I knew. Some were parents of children I taught.
I joined the Pride parade because I had a niece who is now a nephew. This lovely young man, aged 25, joined our gathering recently when 40 of us came together to celebrate my mother's life. None of the many young folk present made any wonder of the fact at all. He seems very happy and settled in his 'new' life now, as a man.
To support the many people who are not heterosexual, or happy in the skin they were born into, I chose to walk in the Pride parade last week. They all assembled in Burgesses Park afterwards, where I took the photo above.
I think it is people my age and older who find it most difficult to change our attitudes – and men in particular. However, no-one can continue to be judgemental anymore because we never know when one of our own might announce that they are members of the LGBTQ+ community.
Growing up, we never heard of homosexuals, indeed we never heard of heterosexuals either. In fact, we never even heard the word ‘sex’ uttered aloud! We were reared in the days of ‘see no sex, hear no sex, speak no sex’. No sex at all in Ireland back then, only every house was full of children!
I never heard of homosexuality until I was 17. My friend and I adored a certain male pop star. Stuck in boarding school, I fantasised about him falling in love with me, all the time.
One evening, in the midst of such a day-dream, my friend told me that she had a big secret to tell me. With much drama, she whispered into my ear that our adored pop-star was homosexual.
I had no idea what that meant so she had to explain it to me. My immediate reaction was - does that mean that when he drives through Moate and his car breaks down at the gate of the school (according to my romantic daydream) he won’t spot me and instantly fall in love! Instead, he’ll fall in love with one of the spotty Carmelite boys! I was devastated. The innocence (and stupidity) of it!
Whilst writing this article, over the last two day, I have listened to an excellent interview on the radio, as well as reading an excellent article on the subject. Both of the well-known Irish men interviewed were gay. They each made a good point I hadn’t considered.
They said they were horrified when they realised that they, as teenagers, were attracted to boys. They didn’t want to be gay. They didn’t want to be different - for to be different is difficult. They pretended they weren’t for as long as possible.
One wrote, "I kept denying it. I really didn’t want to come out of the closet. In the end, my mother came in and dragged me out!" She said that they all knew for ages that he was gay. "Just come out and get on with your life," she told him.
How great it is that difference is acceptable and celebrated at last!
jeanfarrell@live.ie