In 2018, almost 400 women staged a march to Cork Courthouse, where underwear was symbolically laid on the court steps in protest over comments made during a rape trial that the teenage complainant’s choice of underwear – a lace thong – implied consent.

“Does the evidence out-rule the possibility that she was attracted to the defendant and was open to meeting someone and being with someone?”, the accused’s senior counsel, Elizabeth O’Connell, asked during closing arguments.

“You have to look at the way she was dressed. She was wearing a thong with a lace front.”

This scandal was among the most infamous incidents to occur in recent memory regarding the treatment of sexual abuse victims in Irish courts, and caused outcry across the country. Under the hashtag #ThisIsNotConsent, Irish women posted photographs of their underwear in all shapes, colours, and materials to protest the use of such techniques in court. Supporters gathered at the Spire in Dublin, where a ‘washing line’ was strung between lampposts displaying women’s underwear, with others also gathering in protest in Limerick, Galway, and Waterford. In a now famous moment, Solidarity TD Ruth Coppinger brandished lacy underwear in the Dáil to raise awareness of the controversy.

“It might seem embarrassing to show a pair of thongs here in this incongruous setting”, she said at the time. “How do you think a rape victim or a woman feels at the incongruous setting of her underwear being shown in a court?”

There was a twofold argument being made in protest of the incident. Principally, the egregiously unjust way in which the underwear had been treated as implied consent; it should go without saying that a person’s clothing can never overwrite their consent, and hence justify their abuse. But the outcry also sought to highlight a more general problem within the Irish court system; the relentless and systemic shaming of victims of sexual assault, and disrespecting of the privacies they should be entitled to – an issue which has been criticised for effectively retraumatising the victims the courts are (supposedly) there to provide justice to.

Many think of this controversy in 2018 as being a watershed moment or turning point, however, while it indeed caused a significant spike in conversation and awareness, the truth of the matter is that subsequent victims have not been saved from similar experiences.

Just last week, a young woman who was raped by her 62-year-old landlord described the showing of her underwear in court during the trial as being an “out of body experience.”

But beyond underwear, this shaming persists. In recent days, jurors in a rape trial taking place in the Central Criminal Court were shown video footage of a sexual encounter between the complainant and a man not on trial, in an attempt to evidence the defence’s claims that the complainant’s word was unreliable, and to imply promiscuity.

The complainant, who had taken issue with the footage being played and chosen not to be present in court for it, took to the witness stand to continue cross-examination afterwards.

Under questioning from the defence’s Padraig Dwyer, the complainant confirmed that she was saying that she had been raped by both the accused man and the second man seen in the video, which was taken on the same night.

“The reason I’m asking you about the second man is to show that your word is not reliable in relation to what is rape,” defence counsel said.

“There’s a big difference between the incident with the first man and the second man,” the woman replied. “One rape can be very different from another rape.”

The full picture when it comes to the systemic nature of victim blaming and shaming within Irish courts extends beyond these more publicised cases, but the patterns seen across them amount to a certain – if harrowing – indication of the overall situation.

Defence strategies frequently rely on discrediting the survivor’s character, focusing on their sexual history, appearance, or personal choices rather than the alleged actions of the accused. Survivors are often cross-examined in ways that leave them feeling violated once more, a process that can deter others from reporting sexual crimes altogether.

In addition to cultural attitudes, outdated legal structures continue to enable these practices at a systemic level. Calls for legislative reform have been made repeatedly, yet little has changed in practice, with there being perhaps no better example than the issue of victims’ counselling notes being used as evidence.

The admissibility of victims’ counselling records has been widely condemned for some time, further emboldened by the fact that those of the alleged perpetrator are not admissible. It is a particularly perverse invasion of privacy; to take the details shared in confidence to a professional about a traumatic experience, and then make those details public in a courtroom and open them up to possible misrepresentation and manipulation by defence counsel.

Survivors who go through with the trial process are effectively being forced to evaluate whether the treatment of their mental health and trauma is worth the ‘risk’ of having this counselling experience used against them. The start of the year saw Susan Lynch, a woman who was raped by her former partner, say in her victim impact statement that she did not receive any counselling because she thought the notes from the sessions would be used against her; she is one of a countless many.

And yet, it was reported last month that a previous government commitment to ban outright the use of rape survivors’ counselling records as evidence is likely to be rolled back.

With just a fraction of rape/assault cases being taken to court, and an even smaller fraction resulting in prosecutions, a substantial ‘justice gap’ already exists regarding the handling of sexual crime in Ireland. And the more we hear about how victims are allowed to be treated in court at a systemic level, the more it becomes evident that the barriers to justice extend far beyond social and cultural constraints, to the legal framework itself.

The post Let’s talk about… The punishment of SA victims in Irish courts appeared first on Roscommon People.

  The series, which has enjoyed alternate rankings on the platform’s Top 10 list over the past few weeks, follows the aforementioned Belle Gibson – who amassed millions of Instagram followers in the early 2010s with her inspirational account of how she’d beaten a terminal brain cancer diagnosis with healthy diet. Gibson went on to kickstart a hugely successful career off the back of this following, launching a recipe app called ‘The Whole Pantry’ (which saw her enter talks with Apple to make the app a privileged pre-installed default third-party inclusion in the Apple Watch) and signing a book deal with Penguin. All the while, Gibson continued to post content promoting the efficacy of her healthy eating methods in battling cancer, also sharing that much of her profits – then reportedly in excess of A$1m – was going to various charities, cancer-related and otherwise.

  Then, in March 2015, investigative journalists who had noticed inconsistencies in Gibson’s cancer narrative and began researching the influencer, revealed there was no evidence of her purported donations. Under mounting pressure and public scrutiny, Gibson admitted in April 2015 that she had entirely fabricated both her cancer diagnosis and charitable contributions. She was fined A$410,000 for misleading consumers in 2017 – a penalty she has yet to pay as of 2025.

  While the revelation shocked people around the world – particularly in Gibson’s native Australia – undoubtedly the most insidious consequence of this years-long con was the impact it had for those of her followers who did actually have cancer, who had been encouraged to shirk conventional medicine in favour of Gibson’s alternative ‘treatments’.

  Now, a decade on from when this scandal first broke, comes Netflix’s ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’. And in many ways, given the shocking nature of Gibson’s story, it is unsurprising to see the platform release a series based on it. After all, the ‘based on a true story’ category of media has become a very reliable genre in modern entertainment in recent years.

  These ‘based on a true story’ narratives add an additional point of interest to a piece of media, tapping into the very human fascination with real-life deception, scandal, and intrigue that causes the true stories they’re based on to gain such exposure in the first place. In fact, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ appears to form part of a growing sub-genre within this niche itself – the rise and fall of real-life, high profile con-women, with Hulu’s ‘The Dropout’ (based on infamous Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes) and Netflix’s ‘Inventing Anna’ (based on faux socialite Anna Sorokin) having enjoyed their own respective successes in recent years.

  However, media ‘based on a true story’ can be murky business; with each new adaptation comes the familiar ethical dilemmas. When does the dramatisation of a true story become exploitative rather than informative? How much fictionalisation is too much? And perhaps most importantly – who gets to benefit from telling these stories?

  For its part, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is quick to tack the line “Belle Gibson has not been paid for the recreation of her story” onto the end of its repeated disclaimer. Creator and writer Samantha Strauss has expressed she thought this an essential inclusion, after a friend, upon hearing she was doing the show, asked: “Why would you want to give this woman any more oxygen? Are they being paid for it?”

  It goes without saying that any version of ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ that did reimburse Gibson would’ve been met with unquellable outrage (and rightly so). And given that the latest reports on Gibson have her claiming to be “adopted” into Melbourne’s Ethiopian community, calling herself Sabontu, and speaking in broken English, she looks unlikely to try and profit off the show in other ways; to use it to re-ignite some sort of public attention or favour – as, for example, faux socialite Anna Sorokin has (in spite of her ongoing house arrest), appearing in interviews and on television, and building a substantial following since Netflix’s portrayal of her attempts to infiltrate New York’s elite social circles under false pretences in ‘Inventing Anna’ (due in no small part to Gen Z’s semi-ironic conclusion that her actions were more ‘iconic’ than insidious).

  In this respect, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ appears to have steered clear of a major problem similar shows have fallen into – that is, benefiting the figure they’re meant to be criticising. And in the absence of Gibson being able to profit (metaphorically or monetarily) from ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ comes the opportunity for the show’s impact to be more about its message than its inspiration, which is perhaps more aligned with what we should expect from media ‘based on a true story’.

  After all, there is a distinction between a documentary and a show like this; a documentary should be about the facts, but when something is ‘based on a true story’, there’s an inherent understanding that some aspects have been dramatised and/or completely fictionalised.

  This understanding is made explicit in ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’s disclaimer: “Some names have been changed to protect the innocent”. Though of course, the show also takes creative liberties for less magnanimous reasons – that is, for the sake of a better/more cohesive narrative, with another disclaimer for the series to be found in its advertisement as a “true-ish story”.

  The show gets a bit tongue-in-cheek with this description; ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is a true-ish story in that aspects of the Belle Gibson scandal have been made up for the show, but also in that it is “a true story based on a lie”; Gibson’s lie. The irony is not lost on Strauss, who noted, “It’s an interesting thing when you’re dealing with someone who has lied and you’re creating a work that is, in some respects, fiction as well.”

  This acknowledgement is important, not just for the sake of full disclosure, but also legally for Netflix – something they’ve been made particularly aware of in recent months with the aftermath of another of their real-life inspired shows, ‘Baby Reindeer’.

  ‘Baby Reindeer’ saw Scottish comedian Richard Gadd star in a retelling of his experience with a female stalker, and how it forced him to relive the past sexual trauma he had buried. The show became explosively popular for its effectiveness as a ‘comedy-thriller’, its cinematographic choices, and its enormous emotional impact, but amid the hype that greeted the show’s release, curiosity grew over the real identity of ‘Martha’ – the name given to Gadd’s stalker in the show. And because Netflix had changed very little in its depiction of this woman beyond her name, this growing curiosity eventually culminated in internet ‘sleuths’ exposing her actual identity.

  The woman went on to appear on a now infamous episode of Piers Morgan Uncensored, in which she denied much of what the show had depicted. And in September, she was given the green light to proceed with a US$170m defamation lawsuit against Netflix after a judge ruled the series was wrongly billed as “a true story”, not ‘based on a true story’. As a result, for many, the name ‘Baby Reindeer’ conjures up memories of this chaotic aftermath, as opposed to the messages the show attempted to put across regarding trauma, obsession, male victims of assault, and the long-term effects of abuse.

  There is not just an appetite for media ‘based on a true story’, but a real place for it culturally, in terms of how it can reflect and comment meaningfully on societal issues. Similar to ‘Baby Reindeer’ being about more than Gadd, ‘Martha’, or anyone else, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is not just about Gibson; it explores the unchecked and pervasive influence of social media, the allure and false promises of modern ‘wellness’ culture, and most devastatingly, the true toll of a cancer diagnosis, and how those who feel unheard or let down by conventional medicine end up scrambling for alternative options.

  Ultimately, the challenge with ‘true-ish’ storytelling lies in striking the right balance – between authenticity and entertainment, between creative license and ethical responsibility. When done well, these stories can illuminate cultural issues, spark conversations, and even offer some form of validation for those who’ve experienced hardships. But when handled more carelessly, they risk becoming exploitative or misleading, or, for the creators behind them, legally problematic – something Netflix has quickly learned the ‘truth’ of.

The post Let’s talk about… Media… ‘based on a true story’ appeared first on Roscommon People.

Media “based on a true story”

Each episode of Netflix’s ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ begins with the same disclaimer: “This is a true story based on a lie. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent. Belle Gibson has not been paid for the recreation of her story.”

The series, which has enjoyed alternate rankings on the platform’s Top 10 list over the past few weeks, follows the aforementioned Belle Gibson – who amassed millions of Instagram followers in the early 2010s with her inspirational account of how she’d beaten a terminal brain cancer diagnosis with healthy diet. Gibson went on to kickstart a hugely successful career off the back of this following, launching a recipe app called ‘The Whole Pantry’ (which saw her enter talks with Apple to make the app a privileged pre-installed default third-party inclusion in the Apple Watch) and signing a book deal with Penguin. All the while, Gibson continued to post content promoting the efficacy of her healthy eating methods in battling cancer, also sharing that much of her profits – then reportedly in excess of A$1million – was going to various charities, cancer-related and otherwise.

Then, in March 2015, investigative journalists who had noticed inconsistencies in Gibson’s cancer narrative and began researching the influencer, revealed there was no evidence of her purported donations. Under mounting pressure and public scrutiny, Gibson admitted in April 2015 that she had entirely fabricated both her cancer diagnosis and charitable contributions. She was fined A$410,000 for misleading consumers in 2017 – a penalty she has yet to pay as of 2025.

While the revelation shocked people around the world – particularly in Gibson’s native Australia – undoubtably, the most insidious consequence of this years-long con was the impact it had for those of her followers who did actually have cancer, who had been encouraged to shirk conventional medicine in favour of Gibson’s alternative ‘treatments’.

Now, a decade on from when this scandal first broke, comes Netflix’s ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’. And in many ways, given the shocking nature of Gibson’s story, it is unsurprising to see the platform release a series based on it. After all, the “based on a true story” category of media has become a very reliable genre in modern entertainment in recent years.

These “based on a true story” narratives add an additional point of interest to a piece of media, tapping into the very human fascination with real-life deception, scandal, and intrigue that causes the true stories they’re based on to gain such exposure in the first place. In fact, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ appears to form part of a growing sub-genre within this niche itself – the rise and fall of real-life high-profile con-women, with Hulu’s ‘The Dropout’ (based on infamous Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes) and Netflix’s ‘Inventing Anna’ (based on faux socialite Anna Sorokin) having enjoyed their own respective successes in recent years.

However, media “based on a true story” can be murky business; with each new adaptation comes the familiar ethical dilemmas. When does the dramatization of a true story become exploitative rather than informative? How much fictionalisation is too much? And perhaps most importantly – who gets to benefit from telling these stories?

For its part, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is quick to tack the line “Belle Gibson has not been paid for the recreation of her story” onto the end of its repeated disclaimer. Creator and writer Samantha Strauss has expressed she thought this an essential inclusion, after a friend, upon hearing she was doing the show, asked: “Why would you want to give this woman any more oxygen? Are they being paid for it?”

It goes without saying that any version of ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ that did reimburse Gibson would’ve been met with unquellable outrage (and rightly so). And given that the latest reports on Gibson have her claiming to be “adopted” into Melbourne’s Ethiopian community, calling herself Sabontu, and speaking in broken English, she looks unlikely to try and profit off the show in other ways; to use it to re-ignite some sort of public attention or favour – as, for example, faux socialite Anna Sorokin has (in spite of her ongoing house arrest), appearing in interviews and on television, and building a substantial following since Netflix’s portrayal of her attempts to infiltrate New York’s elite social circles under false pretences in ‘Inventing Anna’ (due in no small part to Gen Z’s semi-ironic conclusion that her actions were more ‘iconic’ than insidious).

In this respect, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ appears to have steered clear of a major problem similar shows have fallen into – that is, benefiting the figure they’re meant to be criticising. And in the absence of Gibson being able to profit (metaphorically or monetarily) from ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ comes the opportunity for the show’s impact to be more about its message than its inspiration, which is perhaps more aligned with what we should expect from media “based on a true story”.

After all, there is a distinction between a documentary and a show like this; a documentary should be about the facts, but when something is “based on a true story”, there’s an inherent understanding that some aspects have been dramatized and/or completely fictionalised.

This understanding is made explicit in ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’s disclaimer: “Some names have been changed to protect the innocent”. Though of course, the show also takes creative liberties for less magnanimous reasons – that is, for the sake of a better/more cohesive narrative, with another disclaimer for the series to be found in its advertisement as a “true-ish story”.

The show gets a bit tongue-in-cheek with this description; ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is a true-ish story in that aspects of the Belle Gibson scandal have been made up for the show, but also in that it is “a true story based on a lie”; Gibson’s lie. The irony is not lost on Strauss, who noted, “It’s an interesting thing when you’re dealing with someone who has lied and you’re creating a work that is, in some respects, fiction as well.”

This acknowledgement is important, not just for the sake of full disclosure, but also legally for Netflix – something they’ve been made particularly aware of in recent months with the aftermath of another of their real-life inspired shows, ‘Baby Reindeer’.

‘Baby Reindeer’ saw Scottish comedian Richard Gadd star in a retelling of his experience with a female stalker, and how it forced him to relive the past sexual trauma he had buried. The show became explosively popular  for its effectiveness as a ‘comedy-thriller’, its cinematographic choices, and its enormous emotional impact, but amid the hype that greeted the show’s release, curiosity grew over the real identity of ‘Martha’ – the name given to Gadd’s stalker in the show. And because Netflix had changed very little in its depiction of this woman beyond her name, this growing curiosity eventually culminated in internet ‘sleuths’ exposing her actual identity.

The woman went on to appear on a now infamous episode of Piers Morgan Uncensored, in which she denied much of what the show had depicted. And in September, she given the green light to proceed with a US$170m defamation lawsuit against Netflix after a judge ruled the series was wrongly billed as “a true story”, not “based on a true story”. As a result, for many ,the name ‘Baby Reindeer’ conjures up memories of this chaotic aftermath, as opposed to the messages the show attempted to put across regarding trauma, obsession, male victims of assault, and the long-term effects of abuse.

There is not just an appetite for media “based on a true story”, but a real place for it culturally, in terms of how it can reflect and comment meaningfully on societal issues. Similar to ‘Baby Reindeer’ being about more than Gadd, ‘Martha’, or anyone else, ‘Apple Cider Vinegar’ is not just about Gibson; it explores the unchecked and pervasive influence of social media, the allure and false promises of modern “wellness” culture, and most devastatingly, the true toll of a cancer diagnosis, and how those who feel unheard or let down by conventional medicine end up scrambling for alternative options.

Ultimately, the challenge with ‘true-ish’ storytelling lies in striking the right balance—between authenticity and entertainment, between creative license and ethical responsibility. When done well, these stories can illuminate cultural issues, spark conversations, and even offer some form of validation for those who’ve experienced hardships. But when handled more carelessly, they risk becoming exploitative or misleading, or, for the creators behind them, legally problematic – something Netflix has quickly learned the ‘truth’ of.

The post What should and shouldn’t be fictionalised in media based on real-life events?  appeared first on Roscommon People.

When the results of the General Election came in late last year, a broad consensus was quickly reached: that, to a somewhat unexpected degree, and despite apparent tangible dissatisfaction, Irish voters had opted to stick with incumbent parties for yet another term.

With such a penchant for and experience with the status quo, one might optimistically assume that such a decision would, at the very least, mean the government would have a quick enough path to formation by the time the ‘deadline’ came around – but then again, getting things done on time is not exactly the political status quo here.

I am referring of course to the chaotic scenes that caused history to be made on Wednesday, January 22nd, when, after a day of escalating tensions and disorder, the Dáil failed, for the first time in over a hundred years, to fulfil its constitutional obligation to elect a Taoiseach. It wasn’t until the following day that the Dáil was finally able to settle into its new term, under the helm of Fianna Fáil leader Micheál Martin once again. All’s well that ends, well… the same way it started out.

However it remains to be seen whether the recent chaotic spectacle was merely a brief blip in the Taoiseach-electing procedure, a teething process in the Dáil’s return… or rather, a glimpse into the uneasy alliances that will define this new government’s tenure.

Speaking out of turn?

The chaos which led to conversation in the Dáil being suspended on multiple occasions was prompted (perhaps ironically) by the issue of speaking time.

In a spectacular display of parliamentary brinkmanship, the Regional Independent Group (RIG) attempted to secure recognition as an opposition entity, despite lending its votes to sustain the incoming government.

Comprising, as the name suggests, of a handful of independent TDs from rural areas, the Regional Independent Group had struck a deal with Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil earlier in January to pave the way for government formation. Under the agreement, two members of the Regional Independent Group (RIG) would sit at cabinet, each holding ‘super junior’ ministries. These members are Noel Grealish and Seán Canney, while Kevin ‘Boxer’ Moran and Marian Harkin will hold junior ministerial roles – leaving just leader Michael Lowry and new TDs Barry Heneghan and Gillian Toole as parliamentary backbenchers. In return for these positions, the RIG will support Fianna Fáil (FF) and Fine Gael (FG) in key votes, ensuring they have the necessary majority and can therefore remain stable.

And yet, during the recent very tense proceedings in Leinster House, the RIG sought to retain speaking privileges in the Dáil… from the opposition benches.

Arguing that since they were not formally part of a  coalition they should be granted opposition status (and privileges), the group attempted to leverage procedural rules by requesting official opposition status from Ceann Comhairle Verona Murphy, to entitle them to more time to question ministers and a greater platform in debates.

In the subsequent backlash that ensued, the Dáil session was marked by significant disorder and suspended three times. Opposition politicians (or the rest of them, per RIG) expressed outrage at what they viewed as an audacious attempt to game the system. Eventually, following much commotion, a decision was ultimately made not to recognise the group until further clarification on their position is determined, but criticism continued to abound from the rest of the political sphere regarding the request.

Labour party leader Ivana Bacik commented, “All we need now is the return of the Galway tent”. Sinn Féin leader Mary Lou McDonald lambasted the government-in-waiting for engaging in “stroke politics” and accused the RIG of wanting to have it both ways. Amid her comments, she insisted that the group’s leader, the controversial Tipperary North TD Michael Lowry, “not be allowed to masquerade as an opposition TD”.

This week, the unseemly row over the Regional Group’s bid to have speaking rights from the opposition benches – while still supporting the new government – finally came to a head, Ceann Comhairle Verona Murphy ruling that Michael Lowry & Co cannot form a technical group. It’s been quite a saga, and a bad start for the new administration.

Michael Lowry returns… having never left

The flurry of attention on the RIG has reignited interest in its leader, one of Ireland’s most controversial, yet enduring, political figures: former Fine Gael minister and by now long-time independent TD Michael Lowry.

Having been investigated by two State tribunals – the findings of which describe his “insidious and pervasive influence” during a multi-billion euro (pounds at the time) state telecommunications contract, his “cynical and venal abuse of office”, and his behaviour as being “profoundly corrupt to a degree that was nothing short of breathtaking” – Lowry is a politician who, on paper, would not be expected to still hold the political position he does. Lowry resigned as a minister and from Fine Gael, and when the controversy around him peaked following the publication of the Moriarty tribunal report in 2011, a motion was passed by the Dáil calling on him to resign his seat – but in effect, his presence has endured, with Lowry having continually maintained a stalwart role in his Tipperary North constituency (topping the poll, in fact) as an independent TD, while still consistently voting alongside Fine Gael in an informal arrangement of mutual benefit.

For many, Lowry represents what is (hoped to be) an old type of Irish politics; one defined by backroom dealings, parish-pump loyalty, and a certain air of invincibility that seems impervious to the small matters of tribunal findings and public condemnation. And while it’s not as if Lowry ever truly took a step back from politics, his return to the forefront within the national conversation – alongside his group’s pivotal role in government formation – has raised eyebrows, not to mention concerns around just how much power-sharing appears to favour pragmatism over principle.

The more things change…

For the public, Lowry’s renewed relevance, and the fact that the FF-FG coalition had (or decided) to join forces with the controversial politician’s group to form a government at all, underscores an uncomfortable idea: that Irish politics may be troubled with old habits – a sentiment not helped by recent reports that this government will be the best paid in the history of the State.

Irish voters opted to retain incumbent parties in November, and given evident public dissatisfaction regarding a lack of effective action on issues like housing, the cost of living crisis, and the far-right, it feels fair to presume that, rather than this having been a decision made solely on the basis of satisfaction with government policies, there was also a sense of craving stability in times of heightened tensions and polarisation.

It remains very early days for the new government, and so it also remains to be seen whether or not the recent chaos was a blip or an omen. Only time will tell, but even in its infancy, questions are already mounting over this new government’s ability to maintain cohesion, manage dissent, and avoid the perception that it is engaging in political manoeuvring to sustain power. Stability, it turns out, is a relative term.

The post Unseemly start for new Dáil term appeared first on Roscommon People.

Let’s talk about…

Dublin’s on-street “soup-kitchen” ban bylaws

Coming out of the festive season, a time heavily associated with giving charitably to others and the communal sharing of food, one does not expect to read headlines like those that began doing the rounds just before New Years; headlines sharing the news that Dublin City Council are gearing up to draft bylaws that would prohibit on-street food services for the city’s homeless population and others in need.

The introduction of these “soup kitchen” bylaws was a recommendation of the Taoiseach’s Taskforce for Dublin, published last October. They aim to end the practice whereby charitable volunteer groups set up unregulated services, usually providing hot food, to people queuing on the city’s streets, with the taskforce commenting that the delivery of such services in “high-profile locations risks the privacy, dignity and the safety of people using the service, attracts anti-social behaviour and drug dealing, and degrades the public realm”.

The news of these bylaws has, in recent weeks, drawn a slew of understandable criticism from members of the general public and the charitable groups in question alike. Chris O’Reilly, of the Liberty Soup Run, a non-profit mobile service who deliver food and sleeping bags to Dublin’s homeless population, stated explicitly that he believes the taskforce’s recommendation to be wrong. And the nonprofit organisation Focus Ireland, who provide services to the homeless and those at risk of homelessness, have described the plans as “depressing” – noting that for many, such services might the only way they can get a hot meal.

However, further comments made by Focus Ireland’s Director of Advocacy Mike Allen also emphasise the genuine issues with the current model for providing food to those in need, issues which presumably prompted the bylaws themselves: “The society that we want to build in Focus Ireland does not include the necessity for people to stand in the dark, in the cold, to be handed out soup on the street.”

Here, we see the common ground which charitable and volunteer groups share with the taskforce regarding this issue; that services need to be improved. Because, as blunt and as inexplicably unsympathetic headlines such as “The Council Wants To Ban Soup Kitchens” read, there is of course seeds of reason behind these controversial plans.

Because in an ideal world, yes – homeless people and those experiencing food poverty should not have to queue up in freezing temperatures for the chance of a hot meal… but they have been for the past number of weeks. They have been for the last few years, frankly.

Because ours is far from an ideal world: food poverty is increasing year on year and Ireland’s homeless levels are at a crisis level – the highest they’ve ever been, with over 15,000 people on the streets. The Taskforce for Dublin is not wrong to remind us people shouldn’t have to queue on the street to eat, but the fact that people continue to, every day, should exemplify just how crucial the services they would seek to prohibit are. Yes, no one should have to deal with the glaring flaws of the current model – but they wouldn’t if they didn’t have to.

What feels glaringly obvious is that there would have been very little backlash to the regulation of on-street services for the purposes of safety and dignity, had the news of these bylaws come hand-in-hand with the announcement of similar indoor and/or regulated alternatives. If the issue is the current model, then the solution is a better model – not just gutting the current one and leaving a tremendous gulf in the provision of crucial services. Karl Mitchell, who represented the council on the taskforce, did indeed comment that any new laws would be complemented by an increase in indoor services – however we’re yet to see any specific details to back this up.

In the absence of any such action, it gets harder and harder to dispel mounting criticism that these bylaws represent an attempt to superficially “clean up” Dublin’s image – gentrifying the city centre instead of tackling the root societal issues fuelling issues likes homelessness and food poverty – particularly when the taskforce’s own rationale includes critiquing the fact that people gathering on the street to access services “degrades the public realm”.

The prominence of on-street services is symptomatic of a country whose homelessness and food poverty levels have reached such a crisis point, that much of the work done to help those in need is done by volunteers, who give up their own free time to try and alleviate the effect that the government’s failures – be it in housing, in food services, in supports – are having on their fellow people. The prohibition of these outdoor services, if enacted without the introduction of indoor alternatives capable of catering to the same amount of people, would be symptomatic of yet another failure on the governments part, and indicative of a government that would prioritise the way their capital city appears to look, over the experience of its citizens.

The post Food for thought as Dublin City Council plans to restrict soup kitchen service appeared first on Roscommon People.

There’s an unfortunate situation we’ve generally come to expect when we hear news of a protest in a rural town these days.

After all, time and time again we’ve seen similar news stories devolve into the same situation; a rural community attempting to call attention to genuine issues in their area have their protests so completely derailed by disruptive opportunists and far-right agitators, that this is what the entire story becomes about. The voices of the affected are quickly muffled out, their problems endure or worsen, and the situation repeats.

Last weekend in fact, we very nearly saw this exact situation play out in one of our own local towns: Ballaghaderreen.

It will be little news to regular Roscommon People readers that crime in Ballaghaderreen, as well as in a number of other local rural towns and villages, has been on the rise. And the heightened occurrence of a number of incidents, from burglaries and anti-social behaviour to vandalism and violent attacks, coupled with the continued perception that the Government has failed to give this problem adequate attention (never mind properly address it), has prompted a slew of public demonstrations.

We have seen communities, activists, and certain local politicians making keen and admirable efforts to protest against the increase in rural crime and lack of Government action in response. And given the current climate, this is something that now must be done in tandem with staying conscious and vigilant of how such activism could be easily derailed by those looking to engage in mob-like anti-social behaviour, or to frame it in a way that fuels a hateful political agenda.

As mentioned, Ballaghaderreen is among a number of local areas which has been suffering from a lack of resources and experiencing rising crime levels. There are quite a few examples to point to from across recent months, but perhaps none capture the level of the severity associated with the ongoing situation better than what occurred in the town last weekend.

It was reported nationally last weekend that a serious violent assault had been carried out against a teenager on the town’s Main Street, shortly after midnight. And matters only intensified on Saturday, when a group of up to 40 people (allegedly in balaclavas) took to the streets of Ballaghaderreen, prompting even more fear for residents and leading to damage to two properties.

On Sunday, over 400 residents gathered in the town for a vigil/crime protest, demonstrating against the lack of resources and adequate policing in the town, as well as publicly displaying the community’s solidarity – not just with the young victim allegedly assaulted a few days before, but also as a community as a whole.

And as well as successfully holding a large-scale protest to bring attention to the issues being experienced in the area, Sunday also saw the community of Ballaghaderreen successfully sidestep the same pitfall that so many other rural towns have been unable to avoid when holding their own protests in recent months. Because again, as we have (unfortunately) come to expect, Ballaghaderreen residents were not the only attendees fighting to make a point at the recent demonstration.

The assault alleged to have taken place in the early hours of last Friday morning had, within the couple of days, caught the attention of far-right commentators, as well as some agitators online, eager to spin the story away from the central issue of rural crime and into a blanket (and utterly unfounded) condemnation of the non-Irish members of the community. Blatant misinformation was espoused, from referring to the assault as a “gang rape” to claiming the perpetrator(s) responsible were refugees, to the point where Gardaí had to put out a misinformation notice to shut down these false claims. As is their pattern, some of these agitators then turned up to last Sunday’s protest.

Their intrusion at this event had the potential to obscure the reality of the very real problems Ballaghaderreen has been fighting to have addressed for so long, and to spark divide between residents in the community by placing the blame squarely on a subsection of that same community. But fortunately, such efforts were largely quashed.

Following the protest, several videos cropped up on social media, depicting far-right agitators’ interactions with residents. Clips taken by these agitators themselves show exchanges with residents wherein they unsuccessfully attempt to present the situation as being monolithically the fault of the town’s immigrant population – as if these residents don’t have an infinitely better idea of what is going on in their own town, and as if this isn’t the community whose open embrace of its newer, non-Irish neighbours has seen the town held up as a model of integration nationally. One particularly viral video showed notorious outside agitator Philip Dwyer attempt to disrupt proceedings by interrupting local councillor Micheál Frain during his speech at the event.

“You’re a mouthpiece and we know you are,” Frain shot back, eliciting cheers from the local crowd. “You’ve been going around the length and breadth of the country stirring hatred. The people of Ballaghaderreen will stand together as they have always done”.

It is widely felt that these people do not have any real interest in the welfare of towns like Ballaghaderreen or their residents. And it is only more evidenced by their approach at last Sunday’s event, by their attempts to divide a community particularly known for, and proud of, standing in solidarity with each other – Irish or non-Irish.

Ballaghaderreen is an area where enormous efforts have been made to make sure theirs remains an open and inclusive community while taking in a huge influx of new residents over the years. But Ballaghaderreen’s openness and community spirit – while enduringly commendable, and only more so amid recent rising tensions – can only go so far to ensuring a rise in population that drastic doesn’t have significant negative knock-on effects.

An increase of the scale Ballaghaderreen’s population has experienced puts enormous pressure on a town’s resources. A ramping up of resources needs to happen in tandem when such influxes occur. But this has not been realised in Ballaghaderreen – in fact in some areas, such as Garda coverage and presence, resources have been ramped down. There is a lack of appropriate housing, educational resources, doctors… the list goes on.

The people of Ballaghaderreen have done their part; they have welcomed new residents with open arms, they have identified and highlighted to their representatives what more they need for the town, and they have swiftly and resolutely shut down those who would happily hijack their plight for their own baseless and fear-spreading agenda. Maintaining focus on the real issues in a situation like this is something that has become increasingly difficult these days, but this is what the Ballaghaderreen community has done and they should be commended for it. It is essential now that authorities listen to the community’s demands for more protection and take strong, effective steps to ensure meaningful action.

The post Let’s talk about… Ballaghaderreen appeared first on Roscommon People.

There’s a question that has been swirling around seemingly endlessly within Irish political conversations for the past while, with only heightened frequency as the obligatory post-Budget brouhaha dies down; a question, though eager for the answer, the public is no doubt tired of asking – when, oh when, will the General Election be held?

Indeed, the (relative) uncertainty surrounding which side of New Year’s polling day will fall, appears to be something even the politicians themselves have grown sick of – or as independent TD Mattie McGrath would put it (and indeed did put it while speaking in the Dáil last week), something that at this point, has “people driven demented”.

Prior to more recent days, Taoiseach Simon Harris had been able to dismiss much of the pressure to hold talks with Coalition party leaders about the date of the election, by citing the big ‘obstacle’ of the Budget as the more pressing priority.

“My position is that the election will be in due course, that it’s my prerogative to call the election, that I will do it in consultation with the other leaders, and that I want the Government to go full term,” he said at the time… while also repeatedly refusing to rule out the possibility of an election taking place this year.

Given Harris’s comments, the arrival of the Budget was always going to spark renewed pressure for such a talk between Coalition partners to occur and for an official decision to be reached. And of course, the actual announcement itself only added fuel to the fire that despite Harris’s full term assertions, a 2024 election could be on the mind. After all, though any last-year-of-term Budget is going to be susceptible to accusations of being a “pre-election Budget” – that is, a Budget made with the express priority of shinnying up the party/parties in power right in time for polling day – such accusations only hold more water when so much of the reaction to the Budget in question has been littered with critiques of its “unfocused over-spending” and allocation of once-off measures over more long-term solutions.

But even despite such critiques, the public will indeed see benefits from this recently-announced Budget that would be fresher on the mind were an election to take place next month, as opposed to next spring. And that, potentially at least, could be a big item in the ‘2024 election’ pros list for the Government – but of course it’s far from being the most major potential-early-indication-indicator circulating in the media at the moment.

Recent days have seen multiple scandals erupt surrounding the Government’s main opposition party, Sinn Féin, from the Michael McMonagle controversy to Brian Stanley’s resignation. In fact, it appears that for the Coalition partners, with every passing day the argument for a speedier election is fortified by the latest Sinn Féin scandal to hit the broadsheets. Even the most earnest attempts at accountability and reform-professing from the main opposition party in response to these scandals would be hindered by an election held so hot on the heels of such revelations, while the shock and outrage is fresh and without adequate time for the full scope of things to be addressed.

Taoiseach Harris has insisted that the Sinn Féin scandal is “not a factor of (his) consideration” in calling a General Election, though his assessment that “the people of Ireland were duped” by the main opposition party is far from a characterisation – whatever its actual accuracy/non-accuracy – that paints the opposition the way they’d like pre-election.

Sinn Féin want to be talking about housing, about whatever failures of the Government we’ve seen over this term, about their plans and priorities, about all the stuff that earned them the surge in popularity we’d been beginning to see just a little while back. But of course, the need to address these recent scandals is imminent, and cannot be forgone in place of playing pre-election politics.

For the big two in the Coalition partnership, there is the shared pros of a generous Budget package and Sinn Féin’s fall in the public eye, but the pre-election inter-Coalition cracks are beginning to form too. This is not helped with Harris’s personal popularity putting Fine Gael at about 25% in opinion polls, with Fianna Fáil at 20%; and recent comments from Tánaiste Micheál Martin about how in the past, Coalition leaders once “communicated directly and not through the media”.

As such, further questions arise over whether if Harris indeed were to suggest an early election, would Martin be game? Harris does of course withhold the right to go straight to the President without the approval of his Coalition partners and ask for an early election, but it does not seem like a very Harris move.

Ultimately, the seemingly endlessly swirling question of when the election will be held remains (at the time of writing at least). For an answer, we will simply have to wait and see.

At this point, perhaps the only question being asked more in politics conversations at the moment than when will the election be held is: when can we expect to find out?

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Celebrating culture amid cultural division

As a country, we recently celebrated Culture Night 2024 – a national event held annually in celebration of the richness and diversity of Irish culture.

Every year, Culture Night is celebrated with a variety of events hosted by different groups across the country. In fact, I’m sure many readers will have attended one such event in County Roscommon – be it a performance, lecture, social event, workshop, exhibition, etc. One of the great appeals of Culture Night is this variety it presents; a programme as multi-faceted as the amalgamation of cultures, traditions, and identities it aims to honour.

In a time of heightened tensions and intolerance around cultural divides, Culture Night has another unique appeal; it is a safe haven from the politicisation of culture. Or at least, it is theoretically – ideally. It is intrinsically intended to be a wholehearted and uncompromised celebration of all that makes up culture in Ireland – important now more than ever.

In recent times, we have seen cultural divisions heighten in this country, due in no small part to the increased polarisation and extremism prompted by the wave of xenophobia, racism, and anti-immigration sentiment we see consistently and increasingly peddled by far-right agitators. An event like Culture Night, aiming to unify people in Ireland rather than divide them, is a special positive force in the face of this.

Culture Night is about more than the different identities that make us up – it’s about our art, our history, our entertainment, etc too – but at its core, Culture Night represents an earnest and just attempt to recognise and value the rich cultural diversity of modern Ireland, and to support the coming together of all the country’s different communities – which is why it is such a pity that one of the bigger stories to come from this year’s event was one alleging systemic inequality… on the basis of race and culture itself.

Policing Culture Night or over-policing culture?

On Friday, September 20th, Tola Vintage – a black-owned business based in Dublin – held their annual Culture Night block party at their flagship store on Fownes Street. Though not an official Culture Night event, this was the fourth year the party was held, with Tola Vintage confirming in the aftermath that they’ve always sought neighbours’ permission to host it. In previous years, the party has been an out-and-out success, running without a hitch. Per a statement from Tola Vintage, “The event always wraps up by 11.30 (pm), and everyone helps clean up the street”.

However, this year, the party came to an abrupt end when things quickly descended into chaos following the Gardaí’s arrival at the scene.

Gardaí stated they’d become aware of “public safety concerns” in relation to the gathering, saying the large crowd in attendance was “unsuitable for the street capacity”.

According to the Garda Press Office, “Gardaí initially engaged with the management of the premises with a view to managing the situation but received limited support” – but according to a manager at Tola Vintage, Ayuba Salaudeen, efforts were made to cooperate with Gardaí requests.

Speaking to Trinity News, Salaudeen said that at around 9.30 pm on the night, Gardaí “told us to turn off the music, which we did”. A conversation then ensued about dispersing the crowd to let a Garda van through, with Salaudeen saying organisers “were on the mic to tell people, ‘It’s over, they want us to clear the street’”.

“They (the Gardaí) said we tried to turn the music back on, but we weren’t”, Salaudeen stated. “They said, ‘Actually, move the crowd now’”.

Reportedly, after asking Gardaí to “give us a few minutes to move the crowd” safely, and before staff were able to get back on the microphone and confirm to attendees that they needed to disperse, “about ten of them (Gardaí) just rushed. It just kicked off from there”.

What followed was a series of chaotic and disturbing scenes, in which Gardaí clashed with attendees, levelling what many have described as an unnecessarily “heavy-handed” approach to dispersing the crowd. Three people were arrested and several suffered acute injury. In footage shared online, Gardaí can be seen engaging in a number of violent altercations – one clip sees multiple Gardaí crowding around and subduing one man with force as witnesses shout, “He’s bleeding”.

The incident sparked a slew of discourse, with various advocacy groups voicing concerns about why Tola Vintage’s event specifically – an event hosted by black organisers with a majority of POC (people of colour) attendees – received such heavy-handed policing, when similar events were happening in similar locations concurrently, and when, according to Salaudeen, the event saw the “same size” crowd in attendance it had in previous years.

These groups expressed concerns about what the incident represents regarding how minorities are policed in Ireland, stating that black communities and businesses routinely experience unjust treatment.

Representative group ‘Black and Irish’ stated that they were “deeply concerned by the footage”: “We share the sense of disappointment many creatives and event-goers feel surrounding social life in Ireland”. The group, alongside the owner of Tola Vintage, said it would be meeting with the Gardaí to discuss the incident this week (the first week in October).

Of course it goes without saying that this is far from the only time the Gardaí’s over-policing of ethnic minority communities has been highlighted recently. In fact, as sobering as some of the Tola Vintage footage was, it isn’t even the most damning in terms of exemplifying the issue – take the Irish Council for Civil Liberties and Irish Network Against Racism’s detailed report from earlier this year, which comprehensively outlined minority communities’ experiences of discrimination when interacting with Gardaí.

Details are continuing to emerge regarding what happened at Tola Vintage on Culture Night, as are disagreements over why it happened. For all who consider this incident as yet another example of the covert de-jure over-policing of minorities, there are those who consider it as solely an issue of public order, with nothing to do with race at all – and for all the legitimacy there is in asking questions about what happened and why, such questions will undoubtedly be better answered following the Tola, Black and Irish, and the Gardaí’s meeting and the light it will (hopefully) shed on the matter.

But in the meantime, it is hard not to juxtapose the difference between the robust public order approach taken at an established, organised celebration hosted and attended by people of colour, and the distinctly calmer one that’s often taken at the likes of, say, violent anti-immigration demonstrations.

Who gets guarded and who gets policed?

This summer saw far-right anti-immigration demonstrations reach new heights – and new lows. As their frequency have increased, these protests have only become more dangerous; sites for asylum seekers set on fire, people of colour verbally and physically abused.

RTÉ’s brand-new documentary ‘Inside The Protests’ tackles this subject, and includes scenes like demonstrators physically pushing, intimidating, and hurling insults at a journalist in front of several Gardaí, who do not intervene.

Even outside of anti-immigration protests, there has been a growing general feeling that violent and hateful offenders receive too lenient policing. Arguably, after all, if Gardaí are happy to quite literally stand by and watch as hateful demonstrators behave violently, their role begins to feel a lot more like guarding demonstrators rather than policing them.

The reserved Garda response at these protests is, supposedly, in line with the ‘hands-off’ approach that Justice Minister Helen McEntee has backed and defended on several occasions; much to the waning disillusionment of an Irish public now sick to the teeth with examples of chaotic and violent demonstrations and riots.

The feeling from the Irish public is that appropriate public order enforcement from our Gardaí is not just warranted, but overdue. Which is why even those dubious that race played any role in the Tola Vintage

incident have been able to condemn the Garda response; because how is it that the Gardaí cracked down so heavily on a Culture Night celebration no one was being harmed by, but remain calm to the point of negligence when it comes to actual displays of violence?

The disparities and inconsistencies between which groups are guarded by the Gardaí’s public order approach and which groups are policed – or indeed over-policed – are unignorable, and change is urgently needed.

It’s become blatantly obvious that the current framework and practices in operation are not just unfair, they’re nonsensical. Because after all, between the Tola Vintage incident and the recent riots, a bizarre question arises: given today’s culture in Ireland, is it safer to throw a punch or a party?

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Ireland’s record emigration

In his famous poem ‘Sailing to Byzantium’, an aging WB Yeats declares Ireland “no country for old men”: “therefore I have sailed the seas”.

Flashing forward a century, such sentiment appears to have lived on – with one major flip. Today, many believe Ireland is more accurately ‘no country for young people’.

Between the various push and pull factors at play, a significant portion of Ireland’s young people appear disillusioned with opportunities at home. In fact, CSO figures reveal they too feel they must ‘therefore sail the seas’ to greener pastures; the country recently recorded the highest emigration figures in almost 20 years (just under half being classified as young people), with a 126% increase in people emigrating to Australia in the year alone.

Ireland’s diaspora is nothing new, of course. In fact, it has an integral part in the retelling of several periods of our history. But it is also, crucially, and as we are beginning to see more and more, far from a thing of old either.

What perhaps is new (or at least refreshed) are the reasons why.

Working doesn’t work

There will be no gold stars for guessing the major suspects behind rising emigration. They are, after all, the same ones those of us still living here are also struggling with: the high cost of living and housing crisis.

Things get more expensive over time, that’s how it is. But the problem is what hasn’t risen alongside rent and expenses – wages.

If emigration is traditionally tied to the idea of leaving to find work, it appears the problem today has morphed into something slightly different, but similarly unworkable: that even working full-time mightn’t keep your head above water – it may not even keep your head on a pillow at night.

Between grocery inflation, energy prices, and just about everything else, it has become increasingly difficult to manage the most basic of expenses. Recent measures – particularly within the last Budget – have indeed been aimed at easing the suffocating burden, but it’s far from a long-term fix. And (though I could be being a bit prematurely cynical) this year’s Budget seems set to focus more on winning the middle-class vote ahead of the General Election, than on being a ‘giveaway Budget’ for those struggling financially – a group which, among other demographics, includes a significant proportion of young people.

Meanwhile, the housing crisis barrels on, reaching new heights of incredulity and, to be frank, unsustainability. Finding a place to live is increasingly difficult; sidestepping entirely factors like the mass migration of available properties over to sites like AirBnB, whatever places are available have exorbitant price tags attached. Anecdotally, over a few short years in Galway, I’ve seen properties in the same estates balloon by several hundred euro – sometimes even doubling.

One need only look at another set of recently-published figures – this time by the Department of Housing – to see the absolute breaking point we’ve reached. Last Friday, it was revealed the number of homeless people has reached yet another record: 14,429. This is, of course, the most extreme and worst-case scenario for people affected by the housing crisis, but it’s evidently a scenario that’s becoming less and less rare, and more and more likely for the average person to find themselves in.

For those young people who are unable to find/afford a place to live, they must instead rely on loved ones to help them out so that they don’t join that 14k figure – and that’s exactly what they’re doing. The 2022 Census revealed 41% of people aged between 18 and 34, and 33% of people aged between 25 and 29, live with their parents. And such people will tell you quite simply (although they may also really enjoy their folks’ company) it’s because there’s nowhere else to go.

Where in other periods, Ireland’s youth moved to find a place to work, now they’re moving to find a place to live.

What’s Where’s the craic?

There are also social and cultural reasons Ireland may seem less appealing to young people.

Politically, we’ve become increasing divided over so-called culture war issues, such as queer rights and immigration. Coupled with all that’s to be said about the far-right in recent times, it’s easy for a young person to worry Ireland is becoming a less tolerant and progressive place.

Additionally, we sometimes seem to lack in ‘third places’ (social spaces separate from home and work), which are incredibly important in terms of providing neutral, informal spaces to gather and build community.

The closest thing we have to a de facto ‘third place’ is the pub. An increasingly expensive and, in excess, not particularly healthy way to spend your evenings. But even the option of having the pub to socialise in can’t be relied on – restaurant and pub closures too have accelerated.

And it’s not as if we can use outdoor areas as social spaces year-round; you wouldn’t even have been able to count on them over the summer this year, with the poor weather we had.

We’re also a country whose social practices have been so intrinsically linked with the Church for so long, that as we begin to move away from it, we are left having to reinvent the ways we practice community and socialisation; if Sunday mornings are no longer for the weekly village reunion, when is?

And although not exclusive to Ireland, technology has a lot to answer for too. It has become common practice for much of modern socialisation to be done online or via calls (the smartphone, in some ways, is the new ‘third place’). Even work – the ‘second place’ – has moved online for many. Online work or socialisation are far from negative things unto themselves, but when coupled with everything else, you can see why some people are feeling unsatisfied.

Going forward (but not aboard)…

Ireland has all the bones of being a wonderful country for young people. We do have resources, we do have vibrant communities, and we do have massive potential for growth – it just needs to be realised.

Prioritising affordable housing and a liveable wage, and investing in and diversifying our social spaces could make a world of difference in making Ireland more appealing – not just for the young people with the opportunity to emigrate, but for everyone.

After all, surely, out of any country, Ireland has the potential to offer ‘greener’ pastures?

The post No country for young people? appeared first on Roscommon People.

Let’s talk about… Roscommon and Pride

When Ireland became the first country in the world to approve same-sex marriage by popular vote in 2015, I was still a few years off the voting age. But like everyone else in the country, the conversation around the referendum was a constant one I’d been having – with friends, classmates, family.

I can so clearly remember how engaged the country was; how much discourse preceded the vote, how unavoidable and non-stop and emotive and at times infuriating that discourse was – and probably, was always going to be. I remember fighting over it, and watching other people fight over it. And I remember hearing the result. I remember the reaction. I remember welcoming it with friends. I remember turning on the TV to watch blankets of people swarming euphorically at Dublin Castle; a sea of colour, of ecstatic celebration, and of heartfelt tears. A show of love and of community, and of overdue progress. A huge win, in so many ways, and the bare minimum, in another. I remember feeling proud of Ireland. And relieved.

Because with that result came another feeling; the disappointment, sadness, and to be honest, shame that I felt upon learning the only area that had stood in the way of this historic vote being unanimous, was our own. Roscommon earned an infamous reputation as the ‘no’ county, as ‘Ireland’s most homophobic county’, when Roscommon-South Leitrim became the only constituency to return a ‘no’ vote. It was still a reference being made jokingly when I moved away for college years later and told people where I was from.

Roscommon-South Leitrim voted 51.42% to 48.58% against the referendum, though it should perhaps be noted that the slew of criticism aimed solely at the area largely sidestepped considerations like the fact that more people voted ‘yes’ here (17,615) than in both Donegal South-West (15,907) and Donegal North-East (16,040), and that fewer voted ‘no’ here than in thirteen other constituencies – in fact, Donegal South-West went ‘yes’ by just 33 votes. But nevertheless, none of this is to negate the underlying truth that Roscommon’s emergence as the infamous ‘no’ county (Leitrim was apparently exonerated by Sligo-North Leitrim ‘yes’) did of course say something about the community’s values.

The most likely explanations given for the constituency’s ‘no’ vote were the same ones used to explain why other places (in Donegal, for example) only returned ‘yes’ with very slim margins. There is a well-founded association between rural, traditional, and predominantly Catholic areas, and a lack of support for progressive social changes like same-sex marriage. And this phenomenon is often exacerbated by having an older population, who (generally) tend to be more conservative and more resistant to change.

Undoubtedly, these factors played a central part in influencing the county’s voting. But so much pre-referendum discourse seemed to suggest the full explanation wasn’t quite as simple as that; as simple as Roscommon being too old and rural, too backwards, too full to the brim with bigots – especially since there were several wonderful, progressive voices advocating for a ‘yes’ vote in the county.

Across so many discussions, much of the resistance to voting ‘yes’ appeared to lie less in emphatic bigotry, than in the perception of the queer community’s distinct ‘otherness’; an ‘otherness’ that could perhaps be accepted… so long as it was kept ‘other’. Roscommon became dubbed as ‘Ireland’s most homophobic county’ when the result came out, and while certainly there were hateful people among the ‘no’ voters, it often felt as though lots of ‘no’ voters were operating less on hate but on a technicality; they’d “no problems” with queer folk, but didn’t understand why there was a need to ‘change’ marriage when civil partnerships already existed.

A voter like this – a voter operating not from a place of hate or intentional ostracisation, but out of a genuine lack of information or understanding about how important something like equal marriage is when it comes to building acceptance and destigmatising queerness – is a very different thing altogether from a voter who votes ‘no’ because of down and out bigotry.

To regard Roscommon circa 2015 as a county deeply and irreparably entrenched in homophobia would be to point towards the very real stigma, and even hate, that has existed within the area. But it would also be to ignore that 48% of ‘yes’ voters, and in my (hopeful) opinion, to misrepresent ‘no’ voters slightly. Or at least to underestimate them. We were always an area capable of progress, of evolution from the traditional, conservative frameworks that long dominated societal values. We were always an area capable of moving past intolerance, past tolerance, past acceptance, and into celebration of our diverse identities; into becoming a community that honours, respects, and supports all the different people who make it up.

And this could not be better evidenced than by the fact that this weekend, just under a decade after returning that infamous ‘no’ vote, Roscommon is set to hold its very first Pride celebrations.

It’s lost on no one that in recent times, we have witnessed a bit of a pendulum-swing in terms of how the LGBTQ+ community is regarded and treated. Globally, we have seen how volatile conversations about queerness (particularly transness) have turned. And here at home in Ireland, we have seen how a myriad of factors – from the rising influence of the far-right to online misinformation to a general increase in violence – have resulted in attacks against members of the community, in library workers being harassed, in hateful demonstrations, in Pride events having to be called off due to threats.

So it is so comforting to think that this time around, nine years on and despite the wider context of renewed hate lately, Roscommon – once known as the infamous ‘no’ country, the supposed ‘most homophobic county in Ireland’ – has evolved to become a place where queerness can be openly celebrated.

The amount of work and passion that the organisers of Roscommon Pride have put into the programme of events taking place this weekend is mammoth. As is what it means for the community in Roscommon. And I encourage everyone who can, whether you’re part of the queer community or not, to come along and show your support, while also getting to join in on the fun – Saturday’s Pride March in particular sounds unmissable.

Information on the different events taking place can be found on page 15 of this newspaper, with full details at roscommonpride.ie. This truly is a milestone event for Roscommon, and one whose success will hopefully continue for many years.

Hopefully time will prove that events like this weekend’s, and the way the community is coming together to support this year’s Pride, is much more indicative of the spirit of Roscommon – of the kindness and community that exists within it – than the vote retuned in 2015 ever was. Here’s to progress, and to a very happy Pride!

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