St. Patrick’s Day In and the Power of Stories

This may be a very different St. Patrick’s Day than many of us are used to, but the story of the Irish people, both in Ireland and for the Irish diaspora abroad, is one of resiliency, survival, and the creativity to keep connections alive and spirits up even in times they have been monstrously threatened. Through famine, war, oppression, poverty, xenophobia, human rights abuses, and all manner of hardship, they have endured. This legacy is what I, as a descendant of Irish immigrants, celebrate on this holiday.

No Irish Need Apply

Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.

It’s Irish History Month and, as an Irish American whose ancestors were once scapegoated by the “real Americans” who didn’t want the dirty Irish immigrants in “their” country, I will not stand idly by while others fan the flames of xenophobia and hate.

St. Paddy’s Day Fiction, Pagan Authors, and YOU.

Photo by Devyn Leone Photography

It’s Irish History Month and Women’s History Month, so come join an Irish American writer (who also happens to be a woman) talk historical fiction, Irish folklore, and whatever else you want to know. And it’s on Facebook. So you don’t even need pants.

Tales of the Banshee

Good news for fans of Beneath Blair Mountain and darker tales of magic, the paranormal, and the Emerald Isle. I’m participating in an author takeover/online book party.

We Will Go Home Across the Mountains

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, all! As an Irish American, a mythology/religion major, and a pagan, I have a lot of complicated feelings about this holiday, but I do appreciate the chance to revel in the swirling, turbulent history of our world and my own family (and blast my Irish folk music without restraint).

Poetry Circle: The Troll that Shakes the Barley

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! In keeping with my last post about soda bread, here’s a poem that seemed fitting to share on such a holiday as this. This poem began quite randomly. A box of barley went missing in the apartment. Poof. Gone. I searched everywhere to no avail. As no one had eaten it and it’s not like someone would break in just to steal half a box of barley, I jokingly blamed the trolls. I’m a mythology major, I do that.

Breaking Bread: A Mythology Major’s Musings on Culture, Gender, and Baked Goods

I decided to try my hands at soda bread this week, since I didn’t know what else to do for St. Patrick’s Day, except my yearly rant about all the things we get wrong about St. Patrick’s Day, how St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish, how nobody in America seems to know the Republic of Ireland from Northern Ireland or even Ireland from Scotland, and how St. Brigid was more important for most of Irish history anyway. I vote we all get together on St. Brigid’s Feast Day and eat butter. Lots of butter. So much butter.

But I’m really tired of harping on that every year. So, instead, I put on my Irish/Irish American folk music Pandora station and press-ganged my boyfriend into helping me make soda bread.

No Gaeilge?

Last year’s St. Patrick’s Day post from my banned books blog is still every bit as relevant.

Bound and Gagged

To be honest, St. Patrick’s Day kind of stresses me out. Between the stereotypes, inaccuracies and downright falsehoods perpetuated about the Irish and the holiday itself, I end up feeling like I’m drowning in a sea of wrong. However, as I am merely an Irish American (and not all Irish at that) and do not speak the language (though I own several books on it in the eternal hope that I will remedy this), I end up feeling like the worst little pseudo-oppressed hipster when I try to correct or complain about anything, even if I have studied Irish history and mythology. And once danced in a Killarney pub with fellow Bound & Gagged banned books blogger, Hannah.

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Dead Tongues Tell No Tales

This post originally appeared on Bound and Gagged, the banned books blog I run. However, since Irish History Month is upon us, I thought I’d share it here.

Bound and Gagged

Today is St. Patrick’s Day. For many around the world, especially here in America, that means shamrock Mardi Gras beads, pub crawling, and a drunken bacchanalia in the name of one’s Irish heritage. This is largely due to the fact that the Irish, whether because of famine, occupation, or genocide, are a diasporic people with descendants scattered worldwide. However, it is a pet peeve of many how little people claiming Irish heritage know about Ireland, its history, its politics, or its impact on the world. For example, while getting feedback on a story set in Ireland, hardly anyone in my college level writing workshop group knew the difference between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

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