SFrivolous Saturday: Irish Football Fans Are A Glorious Reminder That Humans Are Bloody Brilliant

This week has been bloody awful, hasn’t it? Fifty Latinx LGBTQIA people were gunned down in Orlando last Sunday. That wasn’t even the first mass shooting in a gay bar this month. Yesterday lunchtime UK Labour MP Jo Cox was murdered by a far-rightwing extremist as she walked out of a library. I’ve walked around all of this week with what felt like a rock sitting in my guts, full of a sadness and fear that just wouldn’t lift. In short, it’s bloody sucked this week, hasn’t it? Which, my lovelies, is where the Irish football fans come in. They’re like a sparkling, off-key ray of (let’s admit it, somewhat inebriated) light in a world gone grey.

A bit of background: There’s a football (fine, Americans: soccer) championship on at the moment here in Europe- the Euros. Some fans (I’m lookin’ at you, England. I’m lookin’ at you and I have my Disapproving Teacher Face on ’cause you are not making yourselves look good) have been rampaging through France being terriblegetting themselves arrested, being horrible to children, the lot.

Y’know who’s not being awful? The Irish. If the English are behaving like Slytherin fans (and not even awesome Slytherins), the Irish are basically Griffinpuffs. Huffledors. Good humoured, helpful and FABULOUS.

I mean, they’re helping people change their flat tyres:

And while some other fans we could mention have been starting fights with other teams supporters, our lot had.. a different idea:

Of course, we wouldn’t be Irish if we didn’t get at least one tongue-in-cheek jab in at our English neighbours.. (NSFW language in this one too):

And sure, what’s a tournament without a song (or six)?

Sometimes you just don’t know how things are gonna work out. What’ll you do?

And at the end of it all? Tidying the streets after them (oh, and saying some NSFW things, btw):

So, what do ya think? Irish football fans: best or, yep, best? I’ll give them this: they made me laugh my ass off for the first time all week.

Photo by dullhunk

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SFrivolous Saturday: Irish Football Fans Are A Glorious Reminder That Humans Are Bloody Brilliant
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Frivolous Friday: The Writing Process

Frivolous Fridays are the Orbit bloggers’ excuse to post about fun things we care about that may not have serious implications for atheism or social justice. Any day is a good day to write about whatever the heck we’re interested in (hey, we put “culture” in our tagline for a reason), but we sometimes have a hard time giving ourselves permission to do that. This is our way of encouraging each other to take a break from serious topics and have some fun. Enjoy, and be sure to check out the other bloggers too!

The Writing Process

Every writer has a process. Some may be more efficient than others. This.. may or may not be mine. Continue reading “Frivolous Friday: The Writing Process”

Frivolous Friday: The Writing Process

I can’t give you a happy post today.

I wanted to write about my holidays today. Was gonna show you some tasty-ass vegan foodporn and tons of pics of the many animals (and, I guess, humans too) who I’ve befriended since I’ve gotten to the US. I’m sorry that won’t happen right now.

The community I love lost someone wonderful today to suicide. He was my age. Far, far too young to die. I’m thousands of miles away, sitting in a cafe in Portland and overwhelmed by the outpourings of grief and broken hearts from so many places. We’ll never get to see his cheeky grin again, and he’ll never have another chance (any chance he got) to wander about with his shirt off. (Seriously, I’ve never known someone who was as much of a show-off. And- let’s be clear here- he had a lot to be proud of).

I haven’t seen Sean since I moved out of the house we shared a few years ago. We didn’t end that on the best of terms- we were so not compatible as housemates, but, you know, you always figure you’ll see each other again a bit down the road and make things up and laugh about how ridiculous you were, right? It’s Ireland. It’s queer Ireland, even. We always run into each other again. What a fucking cliche that that’s not going to happen. I’m so sorry. Continue reading “I can’t give you a happy post today.”

I can’t give you a happy post today.

Frivolous Friday (ish): Thirty. Six. Hours. On a plane.

It serves me right. I booked my flights two months ago. From the comfort of an eight-ish week gap, just about any combination of flights, buses and hours hanging around departure lounges seems fineWhile you’re technically aware of the misery you’re about to inflict on yourself, it’s much further away then those lovely numbers after the euro sign.

I’m pretty sure that in forty hours or so, once I’ve had a decent sleep and a nice hot shower, I’ll agree. Right this minute, though? I’m on a three hour bus journey. Which will be followed by a few hours of a break at a friend’s house. Taxi to the airport. Get to the airport.

Deal with Panic Number One: Checking In. There was something up with my airline’s website when I tried to check in earlier today. According to them, I need to get myself to the airport and do my checking in there. Now, it’s been years since I checked in at an airport. I’ve been trained by Ryanair’s airport check-in fees (what are they, €70?) to have my boarding pass printed out AND saved on my phone before I get to the airport. Arriving without them feels like those nightmares where you get to your Important Job Interview Slash Exam and realise you’re not wearing any pants.

Then there’s eleven hours on a plane to LA, six hours mooching about in LAX (or waiting in interminable queues and being quizzed by the TSA, depending on who I asked) before flying up to Seattle. Then all I gotta do is figure out where the hell Americans keep your buses and get on one going south and get to Olympia and then find friends (find my friends, that is. I have friends. I’m not just wandering halfway across the planet in case I meet someone interesting there. Not this time, anyway) and SLEEEP. Or not sleep.

Depending on how long that last leg takes? Thirty-six-odd hours, door to door.

Since I’ve bugger all else to do (and it is Frivolous Friday for at least some of it!) I’m gonna be bothering all of you lot about it. Here. For the next thirty-five odd hours.

Will I manage to check in in person in Dublin? Is there wifi on planes these days? Where in LAX can a person grab some decent vegan food? Is going through American airport security as godawful as everyone says it is (seriously, I’m Having Anxiety about that, I ain’t gonna lie)? What does sleep deprivation do to me? Will I remember to pick up some of those foamy wee earplugs at the airport or will I be stuck trying to make earmuffs out out my scarf again? And will I figure out how to get the live blogging widget working on my tablet?!

Find out right here. But not right now. In a few hours, like. I’m still in a bus somewhere in the midlands in Ireland.

Frivolous Friday (ish): Thirty. Six. Hours. On a plane.

An Incomplete List Of Gendered Injustices Against Irish Women- and the people working to change them. Part One.

Happy International Women’s Day! While today is for celebrating marvellous women and their achievements, here in Ireland we still have a long way to go before women have equal dignity, autonomy, freedom and respect.

This list isn’t exhaustive. This series of posts details issues that I was able to brainstorm from my room in ten minutes on an A4 sheet of paper. There are undoubtedly far more things that I haven’t even considered.

But here’s what I’ve got.

1. Repeal the 8th Amendment

The 8th Amendment to the Irish Constitution provides that:

“The State acknowledges the right to life of the unborn and, with due regard to the equal right to life of the mother, guarantees in its laws to respect, and, as far as practicable, by its laws to defend and vindicate that right.”

This means that without a referendum to change this, no Irish government can legislate for abortion in any case where the pregnant person’s life is not at risk. The chilling effect provided by the Eighth is probably why Savita Halappanavar is not here with us today. It means that if you die while pregnant, but it is possible for your body to be kept metabolising until the fetus is viable, your doctors must do so. Pregnant people who receive diagnoses of fatal fetal abnormalities are forced to travel to the UK for terminations. And to smuggle their wanted children home in the boots of their cars if they want to give them a burial.

It also means that any risk to a pregnant person’s health that doesn’t threaten to kill them is not grounds for a termination. No matter what that will do to their bodies.

Not all pregnant people are women. But most are. And the Eighth Amendment’s purpose is to control women’s bodies. It needs to go.

You can find out more about the campaign to change this hateful provision at Coalition to Repeal the Eighth. Continue reading “An Incomplete List Of Gendered Injustices Against Irish Women- and the people working to change them. Part One.”

An Incomplete List Of Gendered Injustices Against Irish Women- and the people working to change them. Part One.

Don’t believe in voting? Fine. Vote anyway.

Picture of a wall on which is written "if voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal". The word "illegal" is crossed out, and written below is "seem pointless, irrelevant and detached from people's lives"
Original pic from https://capturingbanksy.wordpress.com/

In the runup to today’s election (and fine, okay, that one you USians are having next year that I’m already tired of hearing about), I’ve seen a lot of you write eloquently about why you refuse to vote, and I get it: voting is flawed. Representative democracy is too. If you’re looking for a complete overhaul of the way that we construct our society or run our economy, this election is unlikely to bring you the change you need.

Vote anyway. Continue reading “Don’t believe in voting? Fine. Vote anyway.”

Don’t believe in voting? Fine. Vote anyway.

For Choice.

For the 12 people travelling out of the country for abortions today. And the 12 tomorrow. And the 12 the day after.

For the right to be treated like human beings, not incubators.

For everyone who has been silenced.

For everyone who made that journey alone because they couldn’t afford to have someone by their side.

For everyone who made that journey alone because there was nobody they felt safe to tell.

For every non-citizen who has no way out of the country, and no way out of their pregnancies.

For every child growing up in this country who deserves better than all of this.

For Savita, and everyone like her.

Because this country values a days-old blastocyst more than a woman or child.

March for Choice.

march4choice

For Choice.

A Crisis Of Queues.

A perfectly ordinary thing happened to me yesterday afternoon.

I had to queue in an office- in this case, my local social welfare office. I was there to navigate the complicated waters of signing on for social welfare when you have some part-time freelance work. Yesterday’s trip through the citizens information website had left me more baffled that I’d started. I figured I should just go to the office, explain my situation and see where to go next.

A short aside for those of you from the US: I gather that in your part of the world it’s seen as a sign of moral decrepitude to accept money from the state if you’re broke. This is not the case here. Signing on may not be fun, but it’s perfectly ordinary. In my experience, it’s not seen as reflecting on your character in the slightest.

Drawing the dole might not reflect on ones character. But you know what does? Queueing. Continue reading “A Crisis Of Queues.”

A Crisis Of Queues.

Absence and PSA

Quick note time: as you may have noticed, I haven’t been around for the past month. Or two. I’ve been having some health difficulties- nothing to get worked up about, but it’s made a major dent into my job ’cause it turns out that if your voice goes for weeks/(possibly months) on end, teaching isn’t a thing you can do. Which means that at the moment I’m relocating away from HighRentVille for a bit. Haven’t had the space or spoons to do much thinking about anything beyond the day-to-day while I work it all out.

Give it a couple of weeks, and I’ll be settled again and able to post regularly for the first time in a long time.

Right now, though, I’ve got a few days to pack up my house and work out how I’m gonna store my stuff and figure out what I can’t live without for the next few months and all the rest of the giant pain in the ass that is moving cities.

Fun!

See y’all on the other side.

Absence and PSA

Guest Posts for Equality: Won’t Somebody Please Think of the Lesbians??!

In the run-up to Ireland’s Marriage Equality referendum on May 22nd, I’ve invited a series of guest posters– people from Ireland or who live here, of many different backgrounds and orientations- to share their thoughts on the referendum, the campaign, and what it means to them. Contributions to Guest Posts for Equality are welcome- drop me a message

When not freely giving her unsought opinion on a wide range of topics, Fiona works half the week as a designer, photographer and social media manager  (both of which can be found on Facebook) and spends the other half trying to negotiate/trick/bribe her three year old into just being sound.

equalityheart

Legend has it that when Queen Victoria signed the Criminal Law Amendment Act in 1885, banning oral sex between males, no banning or even mention of oral sex between females was included because she refused to believe that lesbians even existed. The credibility of that legend has been disputed, but if the late monarch found herself in Ireland during the Marriage Equality Referendum debate, she could be forgiven for holding that very belief. The invisibility of lesbians, their lives and their relationships during this debate has been quite shocking and incredibly insulting to all LGBT women, especially those working tirelessly on the campaign.

Despite the fact that the marriage equality referendum in Ireland owes a huge amount of its success to date to Ann Louise Gilligan and Katherine Zappone, almost every debate has been framed in the context of two men. In discussions where Paddy Manning and Keith Mills obsessively bookend every sentence they utter with the phrase “I’m a gay man”, and Eileen King – as a woman – finds it deeply offensive that the Yes campaign are trying to “remove” women from marriage, LGBT women, afraid to rock the boat and deflect from the real campaign issues, are left facetiously asking each other on Twitter how they suddenly mastered a collective disappearing act.

Obviously, this is largely down to the No campaign, who are using the example they know plays on the fears of those opposed to surrogacy and the one that will unsettle their staunchest voting demographic (middle aged and elderly men). There appears to be a bid to convince the electorate that, if passed, we’ll wake up on 23rd May in some sort of a post-referendum dystopian wasteland, where gay men forcibly marry all the straight men, kidnap fertile women, chain them up and use their ripe ovaries and juicy wombs to create a surrogate baby production line. However, the Yes side, committed to running a positive campaign focused only on the relevant issues, have been slow to take an active role in trying to create gender balance within the debate.

The only satisfaction to be derived is from appreciating two sweet ironies – one that the No side, who argue so vehemently about the importance of maintaining gender balance (cringingly described as “yin and yang” by Breda O’Brien) and women’s traditional roles, have deliberately tried to remove any mention of the women that this referendum affects the most. And secondly, that, if passed, it will undoubtedly be women voters who push the referendum over the line.

It can be argued that currently and historically, nationally and internationally, women are more politically and socially progressive. During this campaign, official polls and anecdotal evidence from canvassers have reflected that, with women of all ages more like to to be Yes voters. Take a walk through Dublin and I bet you’ll see more women and girls wearing Yes Equality badges.

From my own conversations during canvassing and with friends and relatives, I’ve been struck by how many older women, of a generation we might assume to be overly influenced by their husbands and male clerical figures, have given us a strong ‘Yes’. For this same reason, Daniel O’Donnell’s recent statement in favour of a Yes vote will have come as a blow to the No campaign – these women are unpredictable and flexible. They will not be controlled, they will listen to both sides of the story and make up their own mind.

The flip side of this coin is that the whole discourse has also been incredibly demeaning and insulting to men, especially fathers. It has played up to a tired cliché that paints husbands, fathers and men in general as irresponsible, infantile and barely able to look after themselves, let alone be trusted to care for a child. This trite tale isn’t fooling modern Ireland. We’ve seen a huge increase in stay-at-home fathers since the recession, and working fathers are significantly more hands-on than the generation before them. The vast majority of voters know from first-hand experience that a man can provide his child with the same care, love, attention, and affection as a woman.

Next week, regardless of the outcome, the Irish LGBT community needs to examine how and why, in so many debates and conversations, it allowed its female members to be thrown under the campaign bus and to remember that being part of a group that tries to dismantle patriarchy, does not make us immune to it.

Guest Posts for Equality: Won’t Somebody Please Think of the Lesbians??!