Press release: Happy St. Patrick's Day, making history!

Date: March 17, 2016

Happy St. Patrick's Day from Irish Queers, making history together at the NYC St. Patrick’s Day parade!

Irish Queers are delighted to be on this side of the barricades for once! We may be more at home with the circumstance than the pomp in this parade, but in this contingent we're surrounded by the NYC Irish LGBTQ community in celebration mode, which is a rare pleasure. It's also a sweet reunion of sorts, although many of us are missing: moved home to a much-changed Ireland, lost to AIDS and homophobia, or driven away by the sadness of too long a struggle. For those of us who have spent every St. Patrick's Day for the last quarter century in battle on Fifth Avenue, the bitterness is not swept away by a single day in the sun -- but today a very cold shadow lifts, and our future St. Patrick's Days are returned to us for celebration rather than protest.

Our marching is a celebration for the whole Irish community. We're joined here by supporters from the the Irish community, celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Easter Rising together -- a rebellion whose gift to Irish culture is a constant reference point for organizing ourselves in the face of powerful injustice, taking principled risks rather than playing it safe and wrong, setting our own terms, and refusing half-measures.

It's a celebration for the whole queer community, which is so widely familiar with bigoted figureheads collaborating with the religious right, courts, and public officials. We're especially proud to be joined here by friends from the Ugandan queer community (Freedom and Roam Uganda, the first lesbian empowerment organization in Uganda) recognizing the importance of this victory over cultural erasure; and by supporters from the many NYC LGBTQ communities who have turned out on Fifth Avenue with Irish Queers over the years.

To queer communities in Ireland, we shout a long-distance "go raibh mile maith agat" (not least for putting religious homophobia to a referendum, that was clever!) A special shout- out to our family in Queer Space Belfast, we adore you. Hope to see you all soon!

xoxox
Irish Queers NYC
http://irishqueers.blogspot.com 
@IrishQueers 

Contact: Emmaia (917) 517-3627, JF (212) 289-1101, or Gaby (718) 909-3956

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What they wore: IQ's Gaby Cryan on "Closet Case!"

Seamstress and fashion plate Gaby Cryan takes to the airwaves on "Closet Case!"
http://thebuzzmag.ca/2016/03/irish-queers-green-with-pride/

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Why we fought (This year we march! - Gay City News 3/16/17)

"This Thursday, Irish Queers will break with 25 years of protest against the New York City St. Patrick’s Day Parade and march up Fifth Avenue in the actual parade. Believe that we are overjoyed that we don’t have to protest anymore. As per the rules of the parade, we’ll be in “business casual attire” and will be stripped of any message besides “we’re Irish, homosexual, and finally in this @#$%^ parade.”

"...Plenty of queers have asked why we fought so long to get into a parade that 1) clearly doesn’t want us; 2) is without a doubt the dullest parade in the city; and 3) is packed full of cops and army dudes, not in a sexy uniform kind of way.

"Here’s why it mattered enough to push on for 25 years..."

 Read more: http://gaycitynews.nyc/year-march/

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Bittersweet: what's been won, and what has not

Irish Queers are delighted that the parade's ban is ended, and look forward to joining the Irish LGBTQ contingent on Fifth Avenue. We've always held that our struggle is against bigotry, though, and all the celebrating and political fist-bumping is turning that on its head.

The mayor stood yesterday surrounded by Irish Americans and announced that New York City is a beacon of inclusion. It is better now for Irish queers. But in New York City, racist police killings are still the subject of constant protest. Homeless people are being swept off of streets in gentrifying neighborhoods by police cars draped in pink "breast cancer awareness" ribbons, no less. Gentrification is causing deaths and destroying communities literally every minute.

So yes, we successfully pushed the Parade Committee into ending a policy that was embarrassing them. But to paint the city "inclusive" with that small brush is to conveniently forget what's really happening here, and to use Irish LGBTQ people as your tool.

The mayor's press conference showed just how much can be papered over with a victory.

Some claimed the victory was won by putting the kettle on. Decades of protest and pressure didn't do it, just queers and bigots talking lovingly to each other.

A Parade Committee member lauded the end of the ban with deluded, Islamophobic nonsense about how "our Judeo-Christian beliefs" are what ended the ban, and "the West is about inclusion!" No one on the mayor's stage uttered a word of objection. (Update: we've been asked to note that attendees on that stage who objected felt unable to interrupt the Mayor's press conference to say so. The Mayor did not object.)

Nor are we allowed any accounting for the still-sitting members of the parade committee who enthusiastically supported the parade throughout its ban on Irish LGBTQ groups, and dismissed and degraded the protests. But we're supposed to stay grateful and quiet in case we upset the new "unity."

We fought 25 years for this victory. We don't want it misused. The NYC Irish community still has its progressives and it still has its bigots. NYC has its moments of inclusion, and its deep traditions of violent exclusion. We gladly celebrate the end of the parade's ban on Irish LGBTQ marchers. We don't agree to forget what hasn't ended.

(Originally posted 3/4/16)

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Reflections on the long march to marching (Washington Blade 3/9/16)

(Photo: wnyc.org)

Read JF Mulligan's reflections on the (often inconvenient) history preceding this year's queer contingent in the St Patrick's Day parade:
http://www.washingtonblade.com/2016/03/09/st-pats-inclusion-at-last/

"There are many answers to why this change has come. In reality it is probably a combination of things. But let’s talk about it, hear people take responsibility and not back away or silence these narratives..."

"...Some of the many Irish values I cherish are to be contrary, to stand up for what is right, and to not be afraid when everyone else is walking down the road to stop and walk the other way."

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Writing ourselves into history.

Thanks to Maggie Lally and Lisa Fane for the photo!

Here's a photo from our best-ever evening out: a warm and friendly toast at the end of a long, bitter road. Hooray for constant friends!

Incredible as it may seem, we now have to write ourselves into history. (We will, it's all good!) There are always the deniers. New Yorks' Irish and Irish American influential homophobes spent many years denying the actual existence of Irish LGBT people, and many more years denying our role in Irish home and diaspora communities. Some might have been happy enough to admit Irish gay people existed, but Irish queers and political radicals had to be cast as outside agitators: never really Irish.

For those who never liked Irish queers, it's easiest now to pretend that the parade committee just had a change of heart. Easiest to pretend the change has nothing to do with a quarter century of protest against the smallness of imagination represented by the parade committee and its politically-wired supporters. The work of pretending away Irish queers, activism, and the gains of civil disobedience has already begun in some of the reporting on the end of the parade ban.

That's a silly pretense, but it's effective. Wherever that story sticks, it makes protest seem wrong-headed. Instead, it routes all conversations about injustice through the boardrooms and backrooms that have created the injustice in the first place. There we become people who wait for change, know our place, never question the set up, nor the foot that kicks us, as the song says.

So our work isn't done until we secure the history, and claim the victory for refusing to shut up when told, and working outside the channels of power.

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Thanks and goodbye to Brian Friel

Brian Friel, by Colin Davidson

"For the late playwright the past and our images of it were slippery and treacherous. Truth lay not in public facts but in private fictions."

Read Fintan O'Toole: The Truth According to Brian Friel (10/2/15)

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WE WON!

OMG!!!! We seriously won.

We are happy and relieved to announce that, after 25 years of struggle, we have won! The NYC St. Patrick’s Day parade has dropped its bigoted ban: an Irish LGBTQ contingent will finally march with its own banner in the parade next March 17th.

From the beginning, our demand has been for an Irish LGBTQ contingent to march behind their own banner saying who they are, like all other contingents. Today’s decision to invite the Lavender and Green Alliance does just that!

This is a victory for the grassroots organizing, civil disobedience, and street protest of the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization and its successor, Irish Queers. Protests held the line year after year where politics constantly failed. It’s also a victory for our beautiful queer and Irish community of support, stretching from New York City to Ireland and beyond.

The parade issue has never just been about LGBTQ people. Irish people’s struggles are part of our identity: challenges to religious bigotry, demands for women’s rights, Irish republicanism, and struggles against racism in New York and Ireland are irreducible parts of the Irish experience. Irish queers have often been at the forefront of those struggles. We are proud of the complexity of our lives and histories.

The desire to march and the protests against exclusion began as part of Irish queer people’s work to stem the homophobia-fueled tide of AIDS deaths, to push back on the power of the church in Ireland, and to end the pretense that Irish queers are not a central part of Irish culture and politics. Even as other battles were won, the parade’s ironclad combination of bigotry, religion, money, and city politics made it a long holdout against justice. We are tired but happy to see the end of it.

Our thanks: we’re thankful to the many ordinary New Yorkers who supported us over the last 25 years, as well as the many elected official who refused to march in the parade while we were left out. We’re thankful for David Dinkins and others who made real, tangible tries at giving Irish queer people their rightful place in the parade. And we’re grateful to and proud of the original members of the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization – who were also part of ACT UP, the Lesbian Avengers, and other important queer activist forces – who laid the groundwork for this victory.

We look forward to marching up Fifth Avenue with our community!

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Irish Queers statement on John Dunleavy’s ouster

After John Dunleavy’s 25 years of being the standard-bearer for religious homophobia, Irish Queers are of course glad to see him go. Dunleavy’s contributions to the Irish community include likening Irish LGBT people to the KKK, and claiming that being openly gay is a political statement (while insisting with a straight face that the NYC St. Patrick’s Day parade is not a political event.) His positions finally became untenable; it’s only incredible that it has taken so long.

The reasons behind Dunleavy’s ouster are something to celebrate. In the referendum on May 22, Ireland roundly rejected homophobia and the authority of the Catholic church to dictate Irish culture. Irish Queers and its predecessor, the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization, have staged the same battle at the parade. We have posed the legacy of Irishness as a powerfully diverse set of experiences – and a history of throwing off chains – against the religious vision of Irishness as a closed, provincial identity that erases so many people’s real lives. The question of whether queers can take our place in Irish history and culture is now settled.

But the NYC St. Patrick’s Parade Committee is not led by the Irish or Irish American community. The parade is still exclusively held by the same men who enforced anti-gay bigotry over the past two decades. Their version of “inclusion” last year amounted to adding OUT@NBCUniversal instead of an Irish LGBT group. (OUT@NBC were so tightly controlled that, when asked by reporters how it felt to march, gay marchers they said they weren’t allowed to discuss it.) Who knows what exciting version of inclusion they’ll offer us this year with the addition of one more handpicked, battened-down group?

Some voices in Irish New York politics have called for parade organizers to end to the ban on “good” gays – those who have not protested, but instead participated in the fundraiser-and-mass circuit where the parade’s homophobes are welcomed. Taking that advice would be in keeping with the Parade Committee’s history of making the smallest change possible without actually opening the parade to Irish LGBT communities. But we were never in this to reform the men of the Parade Committee.

In breaking other chains, Ireland has represented itself brilliantly – from the referendum, to the rise of antiracist movements, to insisting that water is a human right. If the parade can’t catch on, it will find itself like John Dunleavy: out of time.

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City Limits: Mayor de Blasio can do more than boycott

Exposing the parade organizers' sideways cuts at a religious "free speech" right to discrimination, and the NYPD and City Hall's wildly underreported support for the bigoted message of the parade... And calling on a mayor who has shown he cares about this issue to step all the way up to end the excuses.

Mayor must reckon with St. Patrick's Parade Legacies
3/2/15

http://citylimits.org/2015/03/02/op-ed-mayor-must-reckon-with-st-patricks-parade-legacies/

"De Blasio's boycott alone may not be enough to end the discrimination, but he has the authority to do even more. The question of how to deal with the anti-gay parade has long been muddied by a 1993 court case refiguring it as a private, anti-gay Catholic procession. The mayor's boycott of the parade obscures another problem: City Hall has long supported the parade organizers' exclusion of Irish LGBT groups, and it hasn't stopped yet. If negotiations are underway – the mayor hasn't acknowledged them, but media reports have – then it's time to set the record straight on these two legacies. And it's time for the mayor to take the additional steps he can."

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What IrishCentral says, and what it means.

Photo: Niall O'Dowd's Facebook page, where he declares
himself an "expert in all things Irish and Irish American."

We've often thought of starting a section on this blog called "Why does the Irish Voice/IrishCentral  hate us now?" The publisher Niall O'Dowd, and his wife/columnist Debbie McGoldrick, have devoted a LOT of effort to dumping on us. Especially when we're winning a little on the parade issue, they inevitably print a story that talks about how we're not really part of the Irish community and don't "deserve" a spot in the parade.

We've never bothered to write those posts before. But now we're close -- really close -- to overturning the ban. And O'Dowd has predictably come for us with his claws out. So we'll take this on, hopefully just the one time.

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What he says: Irish Queers doesn't have "real standing" in the Irish community, unlike another Irish gay voice who is "preferring to continue to negotiate."

What he means: Irish Queers is the follow-on group from the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization. O'Dowd was initially supportive of the group, which he claims to have started by publishing a meet-up notice in the Irish Voice in 1990. His vision, it seems, was that New York's downtrodden Irish LGBT immigrants would find each other, form a social circle, and have no politics other than his own. What happened instead was that Irish queer immigrants -- some of whom were already politicized and none of whom was interested in crowning O'Dowd as their rescuer -- formed a social and political group. ILGO challenged the Catholic Archdiocese, the sexism and racism of the New York Irish political establishment, and the regime of brutally enforced politeness that tried to muzzle queers, Irish republicans, and other protesters.

So when O'Dowd says Irish Queers don't have standing, he means we don't have standing with him, and with the entwined business, political, and religious power brokers who run official Irish politics.

He also means that the Irish community in New York is a tiny, closed circle of people who can be brought in or pushed out -- and not the expansive, bustling community of New Yorkers who share in different aspects of Irish culture, different relationships with Ireland, and wildly different politics. He means: "I own this b****!"

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What he says: "Irish Queers is a fit-for-purpose once a year serial boycotter of the parade. Their website is an angry harangue against the parade and cops who are alleged racists. They are the Irish equivalent of Act Up."

What he means: O'Dowd knows nothing about Irish Queers that he doesn't read in the paper or on this blog, and even there we're only of interest to him when we talk about the parade. He's not interested in our work on antiracism from an Irish perspective in New York, nor our support for Irish activism on Palestine, nor activities like supporting political prisoners. But he does think we're Irish enough to be the Irish equivalent of ACT UP, so there's something. (P.S. A lot of those ungrateful ILGO queers he "saved" were also in ACT UP!)

He also means that challenging racist policing has nothing to do with Irish politics or community. Really, he thinks that!!

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What he says: "Of all people, Brendan Fay and his organization deserve to march in the parade. They have earned it over the years, staging an alternative parade in Queens, being open and inclusive and above all involved on issues outside the parade such as immigration and Northern Ireland."

What he means: There are good queers and there are bad queers. Instead of asking politely for bigots to be nice to them, bad queers confront them on the street and in the press. Instead of negotiating deals in smoky rooms, they prefer public conversations about right and wrong. Good queers go to Mass, they attend fundraisers, they preserve the sanctity of the back room deal. Good queers are grateful to O'Dowd.

He means (it seems?) that homophobia and religious bigotry would have naturally faded under the withering pressure of an alternative parade. That the 25 years of protest at the parade, and of civil disobedience in which queers laid their bodies on the line against church and NYPD violence, were rude diversions by imposters "seeking a cheap headline."

He means he wants to rewrite the history, just at the moment that we win. He wants queer challenges to the NYPD, the church, the City, and the old conservative bastions of Irish New York fade to away. In their place, he wants the story to be that asking nicely is what did the trick. Fat chance.

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Op-ed in the Irish Echo -- Un-burying Irish queer lives

The Irish Echo has been running letters and opinion pieces challenging the NYC parade organizers to catch up with Irish culture, and drop their ridiculous ban. The miserableness of letting NBC gay employees march, but not Irish LGBTQ groups, is noted. Larry Kirwan wrote a particularly nice piece last week.

It's been impossible to post links to those pieces because the paper is not really online, but some clips are here.

Today the Irish Echo printed an Irish Queers op-ed. Given the effort to silence Irish Queers and sanitize queer Irish history, we really appreciate it! Here is the original version, which includes a few bits of history that didn't make it into the Echo.

Maybe you remember: the early 1990s were a time of queer political rising, much of which was centered in New York. I was growing up in New York then but I didn’t know much about it. When ACT UP protested Cardinal O’Connor’s campaign against condoms, I was in ninth grade about 40 blocks away, oblivious. A year later the Irish Lesbian & Gay Organization marched in the St. Patrick’s Day parade, unwelcomed by the parade committee but invited by a breakaway AOH Division 7. ILGO, joined by Mayor David Dinkins, were assaulted and taunted all along the parade route. I did hear about that. My grandmother had given me a t-shirt and I’d been wearing it to shreds – it said Life’s Too Short Not To Be Irish! On the back of it, in pearlescent fabric paint, I lettered it “I.L.G.O.” It was just in solidarity. Grown people tittering and panicking over the gays, and then bullying them on the street! I was indignant. Our English teacher, Kathleen somebody, raised her eyebrows high as I passed her in the hallway. That was the extent of my participation in the New York queer explosion of those years.

I landed in Belfast in 1994. I’d dropped out of college and needed to go somewhere. My family had roots in the North. By then I had come out myself. ACT UP, ILGO, and the Lesbian Avengers – all home to queer Irish émigrés who had worked in republican and pro-choice and feminist movements at home in the 1980s – had been churning out the queer Zeitgeist. Although I missed it in New York, I had finally caught it in college. Knowing nothing about the Irish queer political currents that carried me, I arrived in Belfast a queer activist.

Queer organizing in Belfast was small, constrained by everything from the Troubles to religion to the permanent absence of privacy. There was no queer group at Queen’s University, where I was enrolled; there had been one, it seemed, but no one would lend their name as a contact and it fell apart. I called a meeting, and the cast began to assemble. There was a young waif from Lurgan, always seen in his pancake makeup, bristling as joyfully with contempt for authority as with love for a crowd of laughing queers parading down the street toward Lavery’s. (He’s still my beloved favorite.) A tired man from West Belfast had had and was still having a very rough time. He usually came around with a younger friend, both of whom were always in battle over housing, always recently bashed and bruised. There was a great woman who – to my happiness – embraced the idea of direct action. She went on to be a union organizer. There were drummers, waitresses, revolutionaries, zine-makers, and more. It was a terrific crowd.

When the term ended and I was leaving, again no one would lend their name to the group. We brainstormed. We eureka’d: a telephone number without a name was just as good, as long as someone could always answer it. A telephone needed to be somewhere – we needed a space. We could do that. If we disbanded now, no worries at all. We’d gather our resources and meet back up in a year, and then we would make it happen.

I came home. Giuliani was mayor, Bratton was police commissioner, and together they were attacking poor people, people of color, people with AIDS, and any activists who protested. This particular time in Ireland – on the heels of feminism, the frustrated abortion rights movement, and the ongoing power of the Catholic church; and in the North, following the Hunger Strikes and Save Ulster from Sodomy – saw many politicized queers exiled to New York. Here they had formed Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization, joined ACT UP, and cofounded the Lesbian Avengers. ACT UP was at a fever pitch trying to build and protect public supports for people with AIDS, and fight the biases used to justify letting them die. The Lesbian Avengers were challenging the erasure of lesbians from history and school curricula, with the slogan “I was a lesbian child.” ILGO had decided it should march in the St. Patrick’s Day parade, the biggest celebration in the world of Irishness and the Irish diaspora experience. All three groups shared the logic that making queers invisible did violence both to the past and literally, daily, to queers. The parade organizers, representing the closed, church-bound Ireland from which they had come, could not bring themselves to admit that Irish queers were real, much less a central part of Irish life and history. The parade had become a flashpoint for struggles over queerness, religion, policing, immigrant community politics, and the City’s complicity in homophobia and violence. In truth, Irish politics and queer politics had never been separate; only the connections obscured. Now the ties were laid absolutely bare.

I went to an ILGO meeting early in 1995 to ask whether ILGO could help fundraise for a queer space in Belfast. It’s a joke now, that memory; fundraising was never going to happen, ILGO was not that kind of girl. But I was drawn in. The meetings were more than planning sessions. They were multigenerational in-gatherings of queers that taught politics. They broke with good manners in the face of crisis that was killing queers. They rejected the idea that dialogue and demands always had to be reasonable, and that peaceful activism couldn’t express rage toward people who were responsible for terrible things. They taught collectivism, building ideas and plans together, sharing responsibility, and passing along skills, difficult as the meetings often were. They taught that it was important and possible to do things without funding – we never stopped hearing that the Lesbian Herstory Archives bought its Brooklyn townhouse with $1 and $5 donations mailed in from lesbians everywhere – and that queer groups especially always had people with an incredible range of experience, skills and access. Most critically, they taught that it was possible to do things that sounded impossible: add queer history and sex ed to the NYC public school curriculum, or force the US government to invent better medications for HIV. (No one dreamed it would be easier to make the US government deal with AIDS and homophobia than to get an Irish gay group into the Irish parade.) Later, when I’d left that space, the exact same things felt less possible; it had been a communal effect.

In 1997 I was in Belfast again, as promised. I’d raised no money, but had bought boxes and boxes of used and remaindered books from queer shops. I started meeting my old friends for coffee, and they found other people to join in. We deliberately talked about the community space project as if it were already happening. (That was advice from Dermot Burke, who had opened An Béal Bocht in Riverdale a few years before. It was fantastic advice.) We made a primitive website announcing the project, and put up signs. More and more Belfast queers came to planning meetings. There were more musicians and more waitresses, social workers and civil servants, an East Belfast taxi driver, a witch, a student union president, a disproportionate number of Jews, students, more revolutionaries, a farmer, and many, many queers without an occupation. Before long the whole thing was real.

Queer Space opened in January 1998, in a space rented with a small loan, at the bottom of Botanic Avenue. On a crowded pre-opening workday we painted it purple, and someone drew a mural in the style of Keith Haring. We set up a coffee pot and a donation basket. Two women from the Shankill took on the task of keeping both full. Emma Donaghue sent a set of her novels to Queer Space that week, and we unboxed them along with the tattered books I’d brought over. We hung a bit of handkerchief art painted by a queer republican prisoner. Two West Belfast women delivered a huge amount of comfortable furniture. We were home.

Queer Space was intensively modeled on the direct action collectivism of the New York groups. To publicize the opening, we sent a press release; the reporter called Ian Paisley for comment, and the article generated a short controversy. In that way our publicity was taken care of and visitors streamed in. We made a mission statement and rules by consensus, and settled on the name Queer Space after hours of debate in a packed room. We took up direct action, wheatpasting Belfast with signs about lesbians, protesting Newt Gingrich’s visit to North Belfast, convening queers and Asian immigrants who had started to come under attack, and truly I can’t remember what else. The coffee box paid the rent, and it paid back the start-up loan less than a year after Queer Space opened its doors.

When Matthew Shepard was killed and queers in New York City were standing off against riot police on horseback, I came home. Some of the other Queer Space folk moved on to more official politics, especially when the Good Friday Agreement made queers a protected minority. Queer Space carries on these 16 years later. I would claim that it changed everything in Belfast; that it opened up possibilities at a time when people were ready for a change, and other stars were aligning too. Queer Space still turns out Belfast queers for antiracist action, most recently in support of Anna Lo, the Stormont MLA hounded out of office by anti-Chinese racism. Queer Space always comes out for Irish Queers on St. Patrick’s Day parade protests, although Belfast queers are incredulous that we’re still not allowed to march. Funny how the tables have turned.

The story of Irish queers and the parade is really the story of the transit between Ireland and New York of ideas about liberation. It’s the story of how Irishness hasn’t been only Catholic or white or male, nor especially polite, nor limited to venues marked “Irish.” These are true and important stories whether anyone likes them or not. When the parade exclusion comes up, we’re often told we’re not really part of the Irish community, as if it’s that – rather than homophobia – that keeps us out. It’s a pitiful attempt at diversion, but there’s something in it. After two decades of being shoved out of Irish history by the New York parade, why at all would Irish LGBTQ folk stick around the official Irish American community? We have not. Our communities don’t do dinner dances, nor play golf, nor elect Irish American candidates to office. Just as queers have made their own spaces forever, we make our own worlds here. They are Irish worlds in spite of begrudgers’ wishes to the contrary. The transit between queer Ireland and queer New York is as vibrant as ever. Look for it.

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Vintage video: 1991 & 1992 St. Patrick's parade

Lest we forget where this all began, here's video from the 1991 and 1992 NYC St. Patrick's Parade. 1991 is the year ILGO marched in spite of the ban, with Mayor Dinkins, as guests of a progressive AOH contingent. The experience was so awful that ILGO refused to march again without full status -- as a contingent of out queers marching in their own community's parade. (Since then, much of the Irish and Irish American community has overcome their homophobia.)

The next year, 1992, was first of many in which our protests were attacked or quashed and criminalized by the NYPD. In 1993, the parade organizers defined the parade in court as a "private, religious procession" in order to secure the right to their "explicitly anti-gay message."

NYC police have no such right, so our protest focuses on them. The NYPD has never been neutral on the question of queers and the NYC St. Patrick's Day parade. Every year that they march, we're reminded that we only matter to them when we're forcing their hand.

Many thanks to Lisa for digitizing this footage in 2014!

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This is what Irish American bigotry looks like

This is what Irish American anti-gay bigotry looks like. This is the warm welcome GLIB received in Boston in 1992 when they marched in the Boston St. Patrick's Day Parade. This photo taken by Marilyn Humphries comes from Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders website where they are profiling memorable cases from their 30 year history. For further information, check out the resources listed.

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From the Archives: Bronx Irish reject crusty old homophobia

New York Times, January 17, 1993

The Talk of the North Bronx; Irish Voice Wide Passions Over the St. Patrick's Day Parade

By DEBORAH SONTAG
As a soft snow fell over the North Bronx, Patrick McKnight lamented the Irish community's preoccupation with a celebration turning sour with controversy.

"Shouldn't we be more concerned about getting the English out of Ireland than getting the homosexuals out of the St. Patrick's Day parade?" Mr. McKnight asked as he sipped coffee at the Cafe An Beal Bocht in Riverdale.

Nonetheless, Mr. McKnight, a 26-year-old emigrant from Dublin, did not hesitate to hurl himself into the parade debate. And neither did anyone else approached on Thursday on the wintry streets and in the overheated churches and cafes of Norwood and Riverdale.

For however piddling the controversy seemed to some, it touched on larger issues for many -- in particular, the fading authority of the Catholic Church over young people and the waning power of the Irish in New York City politics.

"People say it's not our town anymore, and believe me, this is another nail in the coffin," said William O'Meara, 50, owner of the Greentree Restaurant on Bainbridge Avenue in Norwood.

Mr. O'Meara belongs to the Ancient Order of Hibernians, which has run the parade for 151 years and steadfastly refuses to allow the Irish Gay and Lesbian Organization to march.

Earlier this month, the city intervened, granting a parade permit to a new, conciliatory committee that aims to include both the gay group and the Hibernians.

But while some Irish-Americans were thrilled to see power wrested from the Hibernians, many others plan to boycott the March 17 parade if the Hibernians do not win a court battle to regain control.

For now, many in the city's Irish community are not pleased; not with the fighting among themselves, and not with what some see as the city's intrusiveness. In interviews, many talked as if the parade were a referendum on changing times, as if its fate were somehow linked to their future as a community. Shaking Up the Status Quo

Rushing in from the morning chill, Marie Noonan warmed herself over tea and a raisin scone at the Traditional Irish Bakery in Norwood.

"I would be in favor of the gay people," said Ms. Noonan, a 26-year-old who immigrated four years ago. She noted that a gay group marched without incident in last year's St. Patrick's Day Parade in County Cork.

"It's about time the Ancient Order was shook up," she said, smiling. "They've had too much of a stranglehold on everything in the Irish community."

The parade debate reveals a fissure between generations, Ms. Noonan said. And at another table, Eileen Siegelman, a vivacious 74-year-old native of Galway, seemed to prove her point.

"If the homosexuals want to have their private affairs, go ahead," she said. "Don't make a splash of it. They're spoiling a whole parade, and a whole day."

Tucking a tuft of white hair into her beret, Ms. Siegelman continued. "Why do people want to come in and mess up an institution?" she asked. Her voice trailed off. "Everything in life has been messed up. Sad, isn't it?" 'Down the Tubes'

Several blocks away, in front of the Copley Apartments, Donald E. Powell and his neighbor, Thomas McInerney, were enjoying the blustery weather and bemoaning the disintegration of society. "I think the parade is going the same way New York City is going," said Mr. Powell, a retired mail carrier. "Straight down the tubes. Don't you think, Tom?"

Mr. McInerney said: "I shouldn't comment. My wife says I talk too much." Mr. Powell elaborated on his thesis. "The parade is just like society," he said. "They're giving too many rights to too many people. What's all this jumping out of the closet and making demands? It weakens the structures.

"Since World War II, down, down, down. Everything is going down." A Quick Prayer

John Hourican, a 23-year-old security guard and nutrition student, dashed into St. Brendan's Catholic Church for a quick prayer.

He paused in the vestibule as the pews were filling up with retirees for the noon Mass.

"A lot of older people want to stick with tradition, which kind of means hiding from the things that are really going on these days," Mr. Hourican said. "But discrimination isn't very Christian. What's the big deal if gay people march in a parade?"

Marie McGreevy, a retiree, thinks it is a very big deal, indeed. Everyone should march behind the banner of their Irish county, and not the banner of their sexuality, she said.

"My father, who came from the other side, must be turning over in his grave," Mrs. McGreevy said. "Tell you the truth, the Irish never thought they had, you know, any gay."

Mrs. McGreevy was joined by Elizabeth Pryor and Frances Miller.

"God help them," Mrs. Pryor said, referring to gay people in general.

"The Church condemns their life style, so they can't march in a Catholic celebration," Mrs. Miller said. "It's that simple." 'Honor St. Patrick'

At the Village Pub on Bainbridge Avenue, the owner, John Flynn, said that his customers, "a regular bunch of guys and girls," were planning to boycott the parade.

"We just think homosexuals don't have any place," he said. "The whole point is to honor St. Patrick."

Down the street, as lunchtime was ending at the Greentree Restaurant, Mr. O'Meara, the owner, took a seat and apologized for his demeanor.

"Usually I'm very vocal, but I'm so down about this whole thing," said Mr. O'Meara, a member of Hibernian Division Nine. "It just seems like the beginning of the end for the Irish in this city. I feel bad."

Mr. O'Meara blamed Mayor David N. Dinkins for "stepping on our parade."

"He's made a political decision in favor of his gay constituency, and it's nothing short of Catholic bashing," Mr. O'Meara said. "First the Rainbow curriculum, now this."

Mr. O'Meara pointed out that he did not consider himself a gay basher, and that he has even had gay employees at the restaurant -- "although maybe you shouldn't mention that."

He said he had suggested that the members of the Irish Gay and Lesbian Organization march with lavender armbands or sashes. But that idea was rejected, because "this is war," he said.

Everyone he knows will boycott "Mr. Dinkins's parade," Mr. O'Meara said. "So what he's going to have is a parade of misfits." Where to Draw the Line?

In the late afternoon at the Cafe An Beal Bocht in Riverdale, Rosann MacDonnell, a 29-year-old immigrant, prepared a cappuccino and discussed her disdain for the whole controversy.

"They're making more a mountain out of a molehill," she said. "What the Ancient Order needs is a couple of members under the age of 65."

In the back of the cafe, Mary Brosnan, who works as a home help aide, was far less jocular. "I feel like crying now myself," she said. "It was always such a beautiful tradition and this is kind of spoiling it."

But back up front, Ms. MacDonnell continued. "If they want to march, let 'em march," she said.

Her fellow employee, Siobhan McCormack, 22, was stunned. "You think anybody should have the right?" she said. "What if people wanted to walk naked?"

"Let them, let them," Ms. MacDonnell said.

"I don't know," Ms. McCormack said. "Where do you draw the line?"

Ms. MacDonnell answered: "At the end of Fifth Avenue."

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How ILGO & ACT UP went to Belfast

Belfast's queer community center, Queer Space turned 10 this year! So we were thinking back about its history... which starts in New York, in the tense, grubby meetings of ILGO and ACT UP. They asked for a birthday letter (although it was started as a collective, I was technically the mommy. Ten points for Irish Queers!) so here are snippets from it. You can read the rest on mishmoshkeleh.

Queer Space is ... a direct offshoot of the truly revolutionary direct action organizing of [ILGO and] ACT UP – the movement built on the lesson of AIDS ... that we had to stand up and demand some space in the world, and stop worrying about being polite and safe, or we would die. ... Queer Space has transformed Belfast just by existing. It’s just a crazy example of how taking the risk of breaking silence, saying things out loud that are maybe considered irrelevant or obnoxious (like “Hey, I’m queer!”), can change everything.

-snip-
[In 1995] I went along to an ILGO meeting and told them about the plan to make a new queer space in Belfast, and asked if they’d help fund it. I thought I was very bold going there, and I also remember that the meeting was intimidating as hell. It was nothing like Belfast... These were Irish immigrants who were talking about challenging the Cardinal’s homophobia, which seemed unbelievably brazen. Their analysis ... was based on big ideas about democracy, anti-imperialism that included Irish republicanism, and breaking old chains like the one that says people should behave like good little boys and girls even as they’re marginalized... When I asked about money for a queer library in Belfast, they looked a bit blank, said they had no funding themselves – and got right back to the subject of how to change New York.

I stayed anyway. I never asked about money again...[but by] the time I ... was ready to go back [to Belfast], ILGO and ACT UP had completely changed my sense of what was possible.

-snip-
The plan was ...to run an organization without bosses... to politicize queer identity, to explicitly refuse to hide the existence and nature of this queer place. And to sit down with each other to make deliberate decisions about what a Belfast queer community should look like aside from a pub crew or a population targeted for health outreach.

-snip-
[1997] We took Belfast by storm, hanging flyers for events and sometimes just flyers about the fact that queers existed; we posted the word “queer” all over the city. We got lots of media attention, sent out press releases, maintained e-mail lists, made connections with queer groups in other places. We formed a little direct action cell called Queer Action Belfast which had a particularly great logo, and made t-shirts, and protested Newt Gingrich and posted signs asking “Do you love the lesbians in your life?” To me, it was like the sun coming up.

(More: "Queer Space, you old dog!" on mishmoshkeleh.com)

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What ever happened to the Irish American Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Group of Boston?

I was reading this article in Bay Windows about the GLAD's (Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders) 30th anniversary and it made me wonder.....what ever happened to GLIB aka the Irish American Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Group of Boston? If you go to almost any online search engine and try to find information on Irish/Irish American LGBT issues, information about Supreme Court case Hurley v. Irish-American Gay, Lesbian & Bisexual Group of Boston will be in your top results.

Here in NYC, it has been 17 years now that queers have been fighting to be recognized as members of the Irish/Irish American community. Though the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization (ILGO) is now defunct, the parade issue is still very much alive. Brendan Fay (a former ILGO member) and the Lavender and Green Alliance created an inclusive St. Patrick's Day Parade in Queens in 2000 to celebrate "the diversity of the Irish and Irish American communities." Irish Queers, an organization that grew out of ILGO beginning in 1996, continues to organize the annual parade protest in addition to being active on other social justice issues.

As an ex-pat of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the last I remember, queers could march in the Cambridge St. Patrick's Day Parade.....but what about protesting about the Southie parade? If you have any information about what happened to GLIB or any other information about Irish LGBT issues in Boston (or any other US city), give us a shout. We'd love to hear from you :-)

(Picture was found here)

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