on being southside irish

 I probably shouldn’t say this out-loud, but…

Sometimes I’m embarrassed about where I come from.

I’m southside irish…  and it's complicated.
I call the front room a fronch room. In my mind, St. Patrick’s Day is a national holiday. I thought it was normal to drink after funerals. I have a When Irish Eyes are Smiling jewelry box, and too much kiss me I’m Irish pride wear. It’s nuts.
Basically, I was taught to be proud.
Of what, you ask? Well, sit down pal, let me tell you...

Special occasions in my family are marked by a few constants, mashed potatoes, turnips, rolls from Beverly Woods and more bottled Miller Lite than I’m comfortable admitting. My mom grew up hearing nuns woefully say, kids that don’t go to Catholic school, “their mothers don’t love them.” [I wish I was kidding, & I know mama KB don’t lie]. My dad is one of seven, and grew up in Beverly (pardon me, Chicago’s Historic Beverly Community). Both of them have had roughly the same social circles since they were six. Everyone knows each other, I've joked that, "it's four degrees of separation on the south side" [its like that Kevin Bacon game, see what I did there?]

I’m from this alternate Irish-Catholic universe.

So what am I so ashamed of?

I’m ashamed that when I study white flight and urban oppression I see faces that look just like mine.

I’m ashamed that I can’t be honest about my family sometimes because, other people “just won’t get it”
(you mean it's not normal to start drinking with your family at your high school graduation party?)

I’m ashamed that I don’t flinch when I hear racial slurs because, that’s just “how it is”

I’m ashamed to call this insular and at times, toxic culture my own.

When I say I grew up Southside-Irish [the Catholic is implied], I think the meaning is lost on people.

It's pretty much a given you don't leave Chicago, you raise your kids near your parents and replicate your childhood experiences. and that’s beautiful. I’m not denying the richness of a tight-knit, cultural community; but it can be suffocating. Everyone knows everyone else’s business and they’re knee deep in it. There’s little room for change how I grew up. Imagine how my mother felt when I told her I didn't call myself a Catholic anymore [there was some exchange about purgatory, but that’s for another day.] 

I had to run far, far away to figure out who I was [more on that later]

Again, No Shame November is certainly getting personal. That was kind of embarrassing for me.

Cultural Experience for the day. Watch this
[the video is total crap, but that song is like summation of my childhood.]

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].