Sláinte Mhaith, As A Matter Of Fact.
Not that I think it should actually do anything to change the cultural meaning of the day, but I always enjoy pointing out that St. Patrick was actually Romano-British (from the area around Carlisle), captured as a teenager and enslaved by Irish raiders.
That said, I must as ever offer up my kudos to Irish Americans, who've done a really astounding and admirable job of overcoming the intensely bigoted attitudes against which they struggled for the better part of a hundred years in trying to make their way in this country. On the one hand, the overwhelming cultural similarity to the English (and English-descended Americans) should have made this a smooth and simple process, but on the other hand, that fact that the English (and English-descended Americans) hated the Irish more than anybody else did kind of overwhelmed the mutual love of beer for a few decades.
The Italians, of course, have done pretty well in getting accepted by the American mainstream themselves, but lots of Italian things are marked ITALIAN in a way that's more decidedly foreign - dusky, scented with olive oil - than those things marked Irish. Italians had a language barrier to overcome, sure, but on the other hand they were bringing much better food to the dinner table. I think the superior integration of the Irish into the American mainstream demonstrates the advantage of having drunken vaguely Catholic parades which are fueled by beer and images of four leaf clover, instead of drunken vaguely Catholic parades which are fueled by wine and images of the Virgin Mary, weeping.
So even though I tend to ignore the day as much as possible, I say to you: Sláinte.
Of great note: for the first time since I was maybe fourteen, nobody called me out for not wearing green. There's always somebody, and usually multiple people, who will be wherever I am during the day and who will also chastise me for not being sufficiently verdant. On absolutely no evidence, I'm going to use this data to generate a new stereotype: Black people don't give a shit about St. Patrick's Day.
That said, I must as ever offer up my kudos to Irish Americans, who've done a really astounding and admirable job of overcoming the intensely bigoted attitudes against which they struggled for the better part of a hundred years in trying to make their way in this country. On the one hand, the overwhelming cultural similarity to the English (and English-descended Americans) should have made this a smooth and simple process, but on the other hand, that fact that the English (and English-descended Americans) hated the Irish more than anybody else did kind of overwhelmed the mutual love of beer for a few decades.
The Italians, of course, have done pretty well in getting accepted by the American mainstream themselves, but lots of Italian things are marked ITALIAN in a way that's more decidedly foreign - dusky, scented with olive oil - than those things marked Irish. Italians had a language barrier to overcome, sure, but on the other hand they were bringing much better food to the dinner table. I think the superior integration of the Irish into the American mainstream demonstrates the advantage of having drunken vaguely Catholic parades which are fueled by beer and images of four leaf clover, instead of drunken vaguely Catholic parades which are fueled by wine and images of the Virgin Mary, weeping.
So even though I tend to ignore the day as much as possible, I say to you: Sláinte.
Of great note: for the first time since I was maybe fourteen, nobody called me out for not wearing green. There's always somebody, and usually multiple people, who will be wherever I am during the day and who will also chastise me for not being sufficiently verdant. On absolutely no evidence, I'm going to use this data to generate a new stereotype: Black people don't give a shit about St. Patrick's Day.
posted by medrawt at
19:02
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