What It Means to Be Irish

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What it means to be Irish. What it means to be Irish to me is something different to most people. Growing up I was very shy and didn’t interact with people much. I preferred to stay inside with my older brother who grew up in England and play console games. Because I secluded myself for most of my childhood and never got fully used to the Irish culture, I’d like to think I have a more objective viewpoint. We like to think that our national identity is more profound and deeper than the usual stereotypes, yet we still ponder to them. From my experience, being Irish apparently requires a certain degree of ineptitude. Five years ago I was on holidays in France with my family. I was in the elevator on my way down the Eiffel tower. There were a few people from Ireland in the lift as well as some other tourists (you can spot someone Irish from a mile away). An Austrian man pointed to the crest of someone’s GAA hoodie and in broken English said “football club?” The Irish guy, around sixteen or seventeen, replied with a nod. The Austrian man asked “English?” The Irish guy didn’t like this one bit and exploded along with three others. “No f___ you! Irish! Right?! You f___ off with your English! Irish! (Points to himself)” Pardon the language but, what the hell?! The 6’2 Austrian man simply turned around after putting his hands up in defence. I’m sorry, what the hell prompted that? In a foreign country, in a cramped elevator, people who speak English and apparently play football are aggravated because someone assumed they were English. Was it this Austrians fault that England invaded Ireland about 400 years ago? We are the first to complain when we are stereotyped as drunkards or ginger yet we still play up to it when it suites us. Every GAA match people throw on their caps with red hair and let out their slurred cries of “Up Tipp!” “Go on the boyo!” and on the following

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