The following is reprinted from Brendan’s Substack.
March is Irish American Heritage Month. As an Irish-American who is very proud of my family’s heritage, I always enjoy St. Patrick’s Day and the month of March. However, every year I find myself torn between pride and frustration. I cannot help but cringe at the commercialization of the holiday. Walking through my local Walmart, I am bombarded with gaudy green t-shirts saying “luck of the Irish,” alongside cartoon leprechauns and four-leaf clovers. At my doctor’s office the waiting room walls are adorned with little leprechauns, rainbows, and pots of gold.
While festive, these images have become a shorthand for Irish identity for many people, reducing a rich, vibrant history and culture down to a palatable cartoonish punchline. Some of the imagery is downright baffling. A skull and crossbones wearing a leprechaun hat? Slogans like “Let the Shenanigans Begin”? Not to mention the copious allusions to drinking, terrible puns, and strangely suggestive slogans. It’s an endless sea of clichés, not designed to honor our heritage but to sell cheap merchandise.
This is not to say I dislike all kitschy displays and celebrations, nor do I wish to take away the fun from those who wish to celebrate this way. Nor do I even find these things offensive. But do these symbols and images reflect the diversity and complexities of Irish culture? The resilience of the Irish people? The legacy of the immigrant experience? The rich musical, literary and artistic traditions of Ireland and the diaspora? Or, do they represent the worst aspects of capitalism’s tendency to commodify everything, including cultural identity? Reducing Irishness down to the color green, a four-leaf clover, the concept of “luck” and drinking beer, all to sell consumer goods and generate profits. It has made Irish identity something to be consumed, rather than embraced and understood, and deprived Irish-Americans of a deeper connection to their heritage and identity.
Sadly for many people, this is the only kind of interaction with Irishness they can really have. There is so much to celebrate about Irish culture and heritage and the role it has played in our society. But while capitalism has denuded so much of Irish culture and identity and turned Irishness into these cliche trinkets for mass consumption, it has created a two-tiered system for cultural engagement. While plastic shamrocks, green beer, and “Irish I was Drunk” t-shirts are marketed to working class people as the only ways to engage with Irish heritage, while deeper engagement with Irish culture (be it Irish dance lessons, Irish language courses, forums about Irish history and heritage, etc.) are gatekept and reserved for those with means and privilege as cultural capital. It is in a sense the continuation of the divide between the lace curtain Irish and the shanty Irish.
There are excellent groups like the Maine Irish Heritage Center working to build deeper engagement with Irish culture by offering free or low cost Irish language courses and ceili dances, but they struggle to keep the lights on. As my friend James McClay at the MIHC said to me recently, “It’s pretty damn ironic that every year, mountains of tacky plastic crap rake in cash, yet actual Irish organizations are scraping by and struggling to increase membership, participation and raise funds.”
Capitalism’s corrosive role in St. Patrick’s Day is all the more perverse in my mind when one considers this is in many ways a continuation of the destructive power capitalism has had in Irish history. We can never forget that it was not merely a blight that caused an Gorta Mór (commonly called the Irish Potato Famine or the Great Hunger), but capitalist exploitation and British colonial rule that saw food being exported while people starved, all to fuel the expansion of Britain’s industries and empire. It was capitalism that forced the Irish diaspora from Ireland’s shores.
None of this is to say that St. Patrick’s Day must be a somber day to reflect on Ireland’s history, and I certainly intend to enjoy myself. I plan to march in the parade in Portland (with some fellow Irish American radicals and DSA members), carrying the Starry Plough flag and wearing my kilt (yes, I know it’s Scottish in origin, but it’s become a more universal symbol of Celtic heritage). I’ll be down at my local Irish pub having a few pints and a glass or two of whiskey with my friends, eating some corned beef and cabbage, showing off my starry plough tattoo, singing along to rebel songs and playing my fiddle. St. Patrick’s Day is a celebration after all, but it can be both meaningful and festive at the same time. We can, and we ought to demand a holiday that celebrates the richness of our cultural inheritance in a manner that is accessible to all.
We need to reclaim space in the celebrations from capital and commercialism, where the Irish-American legacy is more than something to be bought and sold. It’s a living tradition to be experienced, understood, and celebrated in all its complexity. However, we cannot perpetuate capitalism’s cultural divide between the lace curtain and the shanty Irish. We cannot merely turn our noses up at people who want to celebrate with green beer and plastic shamrocks and become the same pretentious gatekeepers of cultural engagement.
At the end of the day, our heritage should be a shared experience, not a commodity, and our traditions should be for the people, not just those who can afford to engage with them at the highest level, nor can we let it be reduced down only to cheap green trinkets. Ultimately, this process of cultural reclamation requires broader, community-based, collective solutions. Still, there are immediate steps individuals can take as well, however limited they may be, to reclaim space on St. Patrick’s Day. Rather than shaming people for wearing a plastic leprechaun hat or drinking green beer, we can engage them in conversations about Irish history, culture, and identity. We can attend events hosted by groups working to foster cultural engagement, like the Maine Irish Heritage Center. We can learn even just a handful of Irish phrases and incorporate them not only into our celebration, but into our everyday lives. We can learn, sing and share Irish songs like “The Foggy Dew” and “Óró Sé do Bheatha ‘Bhaile,” standing in strong contrast with the often overused, sanitized or commercialized tunes that dominate St. Patrick’s Day (like “Danny Boy” or Ed Sheeran’s “Galway Girl”). Even what we wear can be a statement, choosing shirts and symbols which honor Ireland’s rich cultural traditions and radical history.
When I march in the parade with my Starry Plough flag, I hold that flag up to remember the radical and revolutionary history of Ireland and the Irish diaspora. I will be wearing a shirt featuring Bobby Sands and Che Guevara, honoring two great symbols of revolutionary Irish spirit, and a Palestinian Keffiyeh in solidarity with those engaged in the same anti-imperialist struggle today. But I am not doing so to show off or say I’m smarter or more Irish than others. I hold that banner high to stand as a visible symbol of the ongoing resistance to capitalism and a declaration of my belief that we must reclaim Irish culture from the forces of commercialization, and I will be inviting those watching to sing along as we sing “Come Out Ye Black and Tans” and “The Men Behind the Wire.” These are just some of the small ways I will try to celebrate this holiday in a way that is more reflective and authentic.
True cultural reclamation means making space for everyone to engage at a deeper level, regardless of their background or financial means. It means ensuring that working-class Irish-Americans can access their heritage beyond what is sold to them in stores. At the heart of it all, St. Patrick’s Day should be a day of joy, solidarity, and remembrance. Whether it’s through marching, singing, dancing, or simply raising a glass with friends, we can honor our ancestors and our heritage in a way that is both accessible and authentic. By pushing back against commercialization while embracing the holiday’s fun and community spirit, we can build a celebration that is truly for the people, one that remembers our struggles, triumphs, and rich, living heritage.
