My journey to today’s poem is a roundabout one so please bear with me.

No doubt in common with every single one of you reading this, I have spent much of the past couple of weeks reflecting on the debate sparked by George Floyd’s murder. I have been grappling with the merits (or not) of tearing down statues, looking inside myself for traits of unconscious bias and I’ve been thinking carefully about how best we proceed from here.

And as part of this, I have tried too zoom out from the passion and anger of today’s protest to see it in a wider context. More recently and – I think – rightly the debate for us has shifted more specifically from US to UK territory. We have been challenged to look at ourselves and our society and to face up to the racism that lurks here too.

And I thought back to that notorious sign from post-war Britain, variations of which were common into the 1960s, and which was exhibited outside many lodging houses and hotels:

And I reflected on how far we have come in the years since then. Please don’t misunderstand me – I do not underestimate current problems, more insidious perhaps for being better hidden, and which absolutely must be tackled. Rather I find that taking a longer view can provide grounds for optimism.

And I wondered too – after reading Mr Galloway’s recent choice of ‘Hollow’, Vanessa Kisule’s performance piece as Poem of the Day – whether Irish poets had written about the racism faced by Irish immigrants to the UK and USA during the 19th and 20th centuries.

And (finally getting to the point!) this is how I found today’s poem written by Imelda May, Dublin singer and song-writer, which she penned just a few days ago. In it, she reflects on the oppression suffered by the Irish and highlights a shared history of “Land stolen/Spirits broken/Bodies crushed and swollen” and a sense of solidarity with black communities today.

She is also optimistic and celebrates modern Ireland as being “in a chrysalis/state of emerging into a new/and more beautiful Eire.” And this is the note I’d like to sound as the week draws to a close. At the heart of meaningful change must be an extension of imagination and sympathy – and I feel hopeful.

Mrs Banks

‘You don’t get to be racist and Irish’ is performed by Imelda May here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYluS5kLit0

You don’t get to be racist and Irish

You don’t get to be proud of your heritage,

plights and fights for freedom

while kneeling on the neck of another!

You’re not entitled to sing songs

of heroes and martyrs

mothers and fathers who cried

as they starved in a famine

Or of brave hearted

soft spoken

poets and artists

lined up in a yard

blindfolded and bound

Waiting for Godot

and point blank to sound

We emigrated

We immigrated

We took refuge

So cannot refuse

When it’s our time

To return the favour

Land stolen

Spirits broken

Bodies crushed and swollen

unholy tokens of Christ, Nailed to a tree

(That) You hang around your neck

Like a noose of the free

Our colour pasty

Our accents thick

Hands like shovels

from mortar and bricklaying

foundation of cities

you now stand upon

Our suffering seeps from every stone

your opportunities arise from

Outstanding on the shoulders

of our forefathers and foremothers

who bore your mother’s mother

Our music is for the righteous

Our joys have been earned

Well deserved and serve

to remind us to remember

More Blacks

More Dogs

More Irish.

Still labelled leprechauns, Micks, Paddies, louts

we’re shouting to tell you

our land, our laws

are progressively out there

We’re in a chrysalis

state of emerging into a new

and more beautiful Eire/era

40 Shades Better

Unanimous in our rainbow vote

we’ve found our stereotypical pot of gold

and my God it’s good.

So join us.. ’cause

You Don’t Get To Be Racist And Irish.