There was quite an interesting article that we read last week in the IRISH TIMES newspaper. On May 22, the residents of Ireland vote to amend their constitution to include gay marriage. What's interesting is that IRELAND DIDN'T ALLOW DIVORCE UNTIL 1993. Did you know that? We didn't.
This article is really worth the time to read, and there are a couple of related articles that may be of interest within this article.
Thanks for reading, Rob and Tom.
GERARD HOWLIN: Marriage Equality Referendum is about how you really feel about gay people
IRISH TIMES, Wednesday, May 13, 2015
by Gerard Howlin
ONE WEEK from Friday, we’ll have the chance to amend the constitution and allow marriage equality for all.
Previously, two constitutional referenda on marriage were held to
allow for divorce. Arguably divorce does undermine marriage. But the
decision we took — and there is no sign that we regret it — was that
because life is often messy and sometimes hard, people deserve a chance
to move on if they want to. I mention divorce because if there are
fundamental principles at stake, rationally it was a far bigger jump to
allow for the dissolution of civil marriage then than to extend the
institution intact now.
I don’t for a moment underestimate the extent of the change being
contemplated. But the jump we are considering in nine days’ time isn’t
primarily about principles at all. It is much more personal and it is
about ourselves. It is about how we really feel about gay people. It’s
about how comfortable we are with them, really. Lots of us know, work
with, or have family who are gay. And of course, the decent people we
are — mostly — we are fine. But maybe we are fine, only up to a point.
Good to have them there, and not harassed by laws that made it illegal
just to be gay in any meaningful way.
They are nice people too, by and large. But, and here’s the nub, they
are different. We don’t say so that way much anymore. But it is what we
think, sometimes. And that is what this decision is about. The
referendum itself is about something else, the constitutional detail.
It’s certainly not about children or church. But the decision, the truly
personal decision, the one nobody is ever going to find out about, is
how you really feel about gay people. And how that makes you feel about
yourself.
We need to put this in context, and put a bit of history around it.
Until recently, regarding homosexuality, you couldn’t be decent unless
you were disgusted. That’s a fact. In this age of political correctness
there is a lot of sugar-coating on the public conversation. The private,
personal chats are a bit closer to the bone. It’s a mesmerising
turnaround when not liking ‘the queers’, let alone being one, has gone
from being a requirement of decency to being at best, bad manners.
It’s so long ago, I can’t remember exactly, but I am certain I knew
what ‘queers’ were years before I understood that there were real people
who might be gay. I was well into my teens before even a sense of there
being others dawned. Up until then, it was just stinging, insecure
stuff bandied about in school yards. You fitted in if your secret wasn’t
out. They didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure yet, if they were talking
about me. Looking back, it was juvenile banter, of which there was lots.
Mainly it was improbable tales of derring-do at the disco. In those
days, there was disco and something called the Inter. If either term is
too outdated, you can Google it. Nobody does the Inter Cert any more,
and disco now is for middle-aged people in unsuitable outfits.
But, funnily, listen out and you still hear an occasional, uncivil,
half-menacing harrumph about ‘queers’. You couldn’t be Irish if you
didn’t harbour a passing second thought about the whole thing. That’s
fine. It’s the way we were brought up. This issue now is whether it is
the way we are going to go on. There is no harm being a bit perplexed.
In a single generation we have gone from being the valley of the
squinting windows to a country of windows with no curtains on them,
metaphorically.
Then there is that peculiarly Irish thing which ostensibly changed
completely, but actually continues unabated, where people in pulpits
preach and tell you what to think. The pulpits are plentiful in media,
social media, and even a few churches but of course you thought exactly
what you wanted then; we all still do now. We know the difference
between preaching and practising. Life is impossible without exhaling in
between our aspirations and our actions. Real life isn’t lived out in
nursery rhymes. It’s messy and more interesting.
In the meantime, we get on with it by and large, and make our own
space. This referendum is about making just a little more public space,
if you are comfortable with that. People living in sin, women who had
children for men they weren’t married to — well, there were names for
them too. One by one, slowly they were invited out from hidden spaces
and taken in. Little acts of discreet kindness became more frequent,
more open. Time moved on, laws changed, and attitudes altered
fundamentally.
A lot has changed for gay people too. We wouldn’t be having this
debate, if it hadn’t. Friday week is about another change. According to
some people, contraception, divorce, and civil partnership would end
family life as we knew it. In fact, not much happened at all. Except
people loosened up a little, were less uptight, less insecure.
And that is what this is really about. What will decide the outcome
on Friday week isn’t any great debate about the rights of relatively
few. It is really about how secure or insecure, how contented or
uncomfortable, the great majority feel about gay people getting married
as well as being at work, or in the family tree. This isn’t about them; I
must now say us. It’s really about you.
You couldn’t have known and you wouldn’t have intended but the
recurring dread growing up of being suspected, or worse discovered was
visceral, physically felt. It was a perennial perimeter to behaviour. I
understand now, it was more felt, than inflicted. There was never any
more than some name-calling, and not much of that. But the inhibition
was deeply instilled. Luckily, our lifetime coincides with a slow public
thawing of what, in Ireland, had always privately been a measure of
personal kindness. Still you never knew for sure. Was discretion
required, or just best to leave things unsaid? Don’t ask, don’t tell.
Keeping your head down and your mouth shut becomes learnt behaviour.
Even after it's necessary, it’s engrained.
Whatever happens on Friday, not a lot will change on the
surface. But public standards impact on private lives. They are the
rules of the game. Of course they are routinely ignored but, ultimately,
they are the boundaries that count. When those are the boundaries
around your life, it really matters a lot. It says what’s possible,
what’s permitted. We have renegotiated our principles on civil marriage
once already, so this isn’t about that.
This is about how relaxed we are with one another. All that
uptightness did a lot of damage. When you vote, nobody will be watching
or ever know. It’s about you and what you truly believe — and what you
choose to do, you will do in secret.
Continuing our blog about our Ireland trip, Thursday, May 7th marked the day that 
But, funnily, listen out and you still hear an occasional, uncivil,
half-menacing harrumph about ‘queers’. You couldn’t be Irish if you
didn’t harbour a passing second thought about the whole thing. That’s
fine. It’s the way we were brought up. This issue now is whether it is
the way we are going to go on. There is no harm being a bit perplexed.
In a single generation we have gone from being the valley of the
squinting windows to a country of windows with no curtains on them,
metaphorically.
And that is what this is really about. What will decide the outcome
on Friday week isn’t any great debate about the rights of relatively
few. It is really about how secure or insecure, how contented or
uncomfortable, the great majority feel about gay people getting married
as well as being at work, or in the family tree. This isn’t about them; I
must now say us. It’s really about you.
A Bag the Poo sign on Dublin’s North Strand. Photograph: David Sleator/The Irish Times
