In the name of religion?
Learning to embrace humanity one day at a time
Greg McVicker, Volunteer Staff
Two weeks ago, I wrote an article called “The socialization of hate” and reflected upon growing up in Northern Ireland. However, the article was only the tip of the iceberg. Disparaging labels were often used to describe my siblings and me. We were constantly chased, stopped, questioned and beaten time and time again for growing up in the land of our ancestors, and were only able to truly appreciate our heritage and identities upon leaving for new land: Canada.
In trying her best to protect her children, my mum (rest in peace, love) christened us with English names so we would not be identified by those who targeted Catholics. Our very identities and heritage was stripped from us because we were Irish. We were not granted the beautiful Celtic names we hear so often nowadays, names that my own two children have been given. But those who targeted us had other names in mind, such as Fenian and Taige. We were also targeted because of our school uniforms and the church we attended. Even though we left Ireland in 1985, we have yet to leave the scars from our childhoods behind.
However, to this day, I have yet to understand how religion makes one person better than another
Many times throughout the late ’70s and early ’80s, my mum panicked because her daughter and son, both of whom attended grammar school in Belfast, did not make it home. Incidents like this happened quite frequently. The reason for this is that many job opportunities were awarded to the Protestant majority while Catholics were left to fend for themselves. As such, Catholic school children were often left standing in the pouring rain because bus drivers, upon recognizing them due to their school uniforms, would drive on by.
One of the worse incidents that occurred was on May 5, 1981, when after 66 days of refusing food and water, the first of 10 hunger-strikers, Bobby Sands, died. The hunger-strike was held to challenge the treatment of Irish prisoners. I remember my mum screaming at the top of her lungs and scrambling to get her car into Belfast. Riots had broken out, and two of her children were again left stranded by bus drivers. Getting to my sister and brother was an arduous task, as barricades and check points had been erected by our police force, the Royal Ulster Constabulary. Again, this force was made up of a 95 per cent majority of people from one religion. However, to this day, I have yet to understand how religion makes one person better than another.
Another incident occurred when my older sister, although not wearing her school uniform on this particular day, was identified by a group of school-age girls that pointed her out as being a Fenian. The school-age boys that were with them chased my sister three miles, knives in hand, threatening to cut her to shreds. This is not any different from the day a group of individuals dragged her to a place called Nellie’s dam and tried to drown her in the stream that flowed near our house. The water in the dam was deep — her attempted drowning in the name of religion.
There have been incidents of many Irish families being forcefully evicted from their homes due to letter bombs being pushed through their letter-boxes. Others involve Molotov cocktails being smashed through living room windows of peoples’ houses. Attempts such as these have been successfully utilized in burning Catholics out of their homes and the districts in which they lived.
If I haven’t sickened you enough yet, read on. Prior to our church being built, our school gym was used to conduct Sunday mass with an altar erected on the stage. However, in 1979, while in attendance at the youth club, a group of individuals from one of the most bitter of areas in Belfast came to the club, began damaging property and before leaving, took great pleasure in urinating all over the altar. What could possess anyone to become so hateful of other human beings because of their religious beliefs or upbringing?
Sadly, though, long after we left Northern Ireland, this hatred continued. In September 2001, a young Protestant man was shot dead after he was mistakenly identified as being a Catholic. Three months prior, a Catholic church we attended as kids was burnt to the ground. Individuals from differing religions have also been beaten or killed due to dating a person of the opposite religion. In 2001, distraught children attending Holy Cross Primary School were attacked with blast bombs and feces-filled balloons and had to be escorted through police barricades to get to school. The appalling videos are on YouTube.com. But why does this happen? Incidents such as these are completely senseless. Religion was not the reason for the hatred back home; it was used as a guise for a political war and used to distinguish one individual from another.
I have to be honest — this article has been painstakingly difficult to write. Not only has it brought back vivid memories from home, I am also ashamed of how it exposes our world today. Humans full of hate, anger and bitterness against other humans due to their background: race, religion, politics, culture, skin colour, language, or sexual orientation — the list is endless. This needs to stop immediately. We need to begin breaking down the cultural, socioeconomic, structural and political barriers that divide us. Although we are all individual in our own right, we need to respect others for being different from us. We need to collectively embrace humanity — one day at a time — and not in the name of religion.
Greg McVicker is a fourth-year undergraduate social work student.
