I’ll preface this with a little spiel about myself before diving into a rant about more things about me. Yeah I am a writer and that’s how we typically do things.
It takes a very self centred person to write fiction, or write anything at all. Non fiction writers manage to disguise this, they can claim or hide behind the brick wall of their topic, shielding themselves from prying eyes while they take satisfaction in an especially succinct statement. Nah, that’s not for me. I’m afraid I want it all. I want the glory and am yet unaware of the sacrifices necessary to attain said glory. But while I am blissfully ignorant, here I remain writing to you, whoever you may be, wherever you may be, if you may be.
So yes I am a writer and I have a lot of things to say but fail to find the means to do so. Sometimes I even learn something new about myself, although that’s becoming more and more rare - I think it’s necessary to live and experience new things to be able to do that consistently.
Other times, however, I want to scream what’s in my head to everyone, whether or not they’re interested in hearing what I have to say. This is where Irish rebel songs come in, I know I’ve made you wait long enough.
I’m not sure how exactly I came across Irish rebel songs, but boy am I thankful I did. They’re not the type of songs I’d play on a car ride with friends. Although, that’s true for most of the songs on my phone (who even listens to Die Antwoord?).
My favourite Irish rebel song is a popular one: “Come out Ye Black and Tans”.
Now if there’s were a club for rebel song fans, I’m sure they’d call me a casual fan for that choice, but hey! I like what I like. These rebel songs have a tendency to be quite upbeat and lively, likely to improve morale in the IRA ranks, but boy do they tend to get stuck in my head. For good reason too, they reflect a bravado and ‘idgaf’ attitude I wish I had more of in my life. Whether or not you agree with the political machinations of these men or the means by which they pursued their ideals, I believe they represent a breed of human that is increasingly obsolete nowadays.
It is looked down upon to be macho, to have some bravado or spunk, mostly because along with these traits comes a toxicity and an unwavering masculinity. Now these criticisms are fair, questioning another man’s manhood and calling him out on it is inappropriate, but goodness, do these Irishmen make it cool. They represent a world that is rapidly departing, and mostly for good reasons too. But along with it goes a class of humans who didn’t need to worry as much when speaking their minds. That they would face the consequences, often death, of these statements with their chests.
Now I realize this is an idealization, but goddamn it what else am I supposed to do. I hear these songs, and that is all I know about their lives, at least for now. And from what I know there’s some substance here, something that’d make hairs grow on your chest. It’s an expression of honesty that I am afraid is rapidly fading. Now you could pull this argument apart, take any one of these soldiers and analyze their home lives or the subtle and blatant sexist and homophobic undertones in any of these songs, but that is not the point. I think its a fair thing to bring up in criticizing the idea, but is a means to skirt around the point I’m trying to make
I think there is a middle ground where one can walk, and I wish to find it. I’m tired of being afraid of what I think and too scared to express myself in front of strangers and those that matter most. I wish to say things with my chest, and sometimes when I’m listening to these Irish rebel songs, I’m able to imagine myself doing just that.
And that’s not enough for me, but for now it’s enough to keep me thinking.
And that’s all I need for now.
