I've always liked my name. I think it's got a certain ring to it. There are certain days when I've particularly liked my name. Take, for example, St. Patrick's Day. My name gives me permission to wear an obnoxiously green shirt that declares "Kiss Me! I'm Irish!"
I used to enjoy St. Patrick's Day like I used to enjoy Valentine's Day and Presidents Day. As with most holidays, my concern is not with how the day originated or what the day is intended to celebrate.
Why, when this St. Patrick's Day rolled around, was I thinking differently about it? Why couldn't I put sparkly shamrock stickers on my face and walk around eating a mint shake? Am I growing cynical? I've always been cynical. Am I bitter because the whole world shares a holiday for the Irish? I don't really care about that. I've always believed in the cliché, "the more, the merrier." I think I'm looking at this St. Patrick's Day differently because of school. If any of my professors read the State Press, they can now gloat.
I've had to do a lot of papers on my own heritage this semester and doing the papers have made me think. I hate that. I learned that my name, the one that I have loved so much especially on St. Patrick's Day, belies my true heritage. I'm really only about a quarter Irish. I went from being the person who "obviously" had a "right" to celebrate St. Patrick's Day to being like a lot of other people who celebrate the holiday because it's become a cool holiday to celebrate.
My field of study is social work. One of the premises of the profession revolves around knowing one's own culture and ethnicity. The idea is simple. If I as a social worker understand how my culture affects how I interact with the world, in theory, I realize that culture plays a critical role in how people believe and act.
This St. Patrick's Day, I wanted to know who St. Patrick was and why we, as Americans, even celebrate a day to honor him. The history is interesting. A web site titled "St. Patrick's Day Guide" states, "As a youth St. Patrick was kidnapped by Irish raiders and sold into slavery in Ireland. He escaped six years later and fled to Gaul. After several years of monastic life, he returned to Ireland in 432 AD as a missionary to the people there. It is said that he used the three-leafed shamrock to explain the concept of the Trinity; hence its strong association with his day and name."
St. Patrick is a hero in Ireland. In fact, there are about 60 churches and cathedrals named for him in Ireland alone. One of the most famous cathedrals is St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. These grounds bear the mark of the place where St. Patrick baptized his converts.
According to the History Channel web site, Americans have long celebrated St. Patrick's Day not as an excuse to drink green beer or wear shirts with corny sayings but to express pride. It reports that, "The first St. Patrick's Day parade took place not in Ireland, but in the United States. Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through New York City on March 17, 1762. Along with their music, the parade helped the soldiers to reconnect with their Irish roots, as well as fellow Irishmen serving in the English army. Suddenly, annual St. Patrick's Day parades became a show of strength for Irish Americans, as well as a must-attend event for a slew of political candidates."
St. Patrick's Day is about far more than just drinking green beer and wearing funny green shirts and hats. It's an expression of religion, culture, and pride. After learning more about St. Patrick's Day and, more importantly, about myself, I don't know if I'll ever be able to celebrate March 17 with the same innocence. The holiday is about so much more than I ever knew.
Even though I feel much more informed, and am looking at St. Patrick's Day differently, don't think for a minute that I'm getting rid of the "Kiss Me! I'm Irish!" shirt. Hey, I'm still a quarter Irish …
Rosie McSweeney is a Social Work graduate student. Reach her
at rosie.m@asu.edu
