There I was alone in the dog park, my two greyhounds galloping around me, when a man approached the gate with his own large dog in tow. Immediately, I clipped a lead onto my younger hound because he can be a bit much.
“Don’t worry,” called the man cheerily, “my dog’s friendly.” “Mine are too, but this guy gets a bit overexcited,” I replied. “I’m not coming in anyway,” he said, now walking past the gate. “Oh, please do. My boys will be so disappointed if you don’t.” He slitted his eyes.
“Irish people don’t go in the dog park any more.” “What?” And I laughed nervously, because I didn’t understand, because it was such a strange thing to say. “You might laugh now, madam, but we’ll have the last laugh,” he said, and he stalked off, the sneer of “madam” still echoing as if he’d called me pal, or buddy, or mate in the way you do when someone is anything but your friend.
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Had I just been the victim of racial aggression? It seems so, which was a surprise. As a wasp – white, Anglo-Saxon protestant, it’s not an everyday occurrence. I’m even blonde, so prime wasp, with the only red cross on my inherent privilege card being that I’m female.
It must have been my Sefrican ixcent: I looked like I belonged till I opened my mouth. I’ve been accused of being many things since coming to Ireland, mostly Aussie, Kiwi and British, but not unwanted, not foreign.
The last time I was singled out for being from a different parish, as they say, was in 1997 in England when a posh old bird told me to go back to where I came from because “we don’t want you here” (Funny how bigots always use “we” as if they talk for the masses.)
It’s so rare it barely hurt, and I could laugh about it with friends that evening. But imagine every livelong day promised such hostility, as inevitable as Irish rain. Imagine being judged due to some inescapable physical marker – your skin colour, say – before you even open your mouth.
Imagine heads turning, eyes following you, being permanently braced for yet another snide remark, death by a thousand cuts. Imagine for just one moment how that must feel when you’re only buying milk, taking a bus, walking your dog, trying to make your way in the world.
