I left Northern Ireland where I was born into the Protestant tradition when I was very young. I grew up in England and it wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I realised that I was entitled to an Irish passport even though my mother had always emphasised our Irish roots.
Explaining this to my classmates and colleagues was another matter however.
They didn’t grasp what it meant to be Northern Irish or the complexities of our allegiances to Britain and Ireland. But the frequent trips back to visit our extensive family in Ireland over the years only strengthened my sense of being Irish, a sentiment that conflicted somewhat with my English accent.
When it came time to renew my British passport, I was eager to switch to an Irish one. However, the process was frustrating; professionals who I assumed regularly handled passport applications weren’t available to witness mine, leading me to temporarily give up. But the Brexit vote three years later renewed my determination. The idea of accepting the citizenship offered by Ireland for my birthplace felt something that I should accept and cherish.
This time, I reached out to a local Catholic priest, confident that his Irish name meant he would help, and he did. Receiving my first Irish passport was exhilarating, a validation of my Irish identity, offering me the protection of the Irish state and the European Union.
Despite my excitement, sharing the news with my family and partner was daunting. Our history, marked by the Troubles, had solidified a strong British identity and a rejection of Irishness. I feared they’d see my allegiance to Dublin over the UK as a betrayal, especially since my partner served in the armed forces during the ’70s and ’80s.
My worries were unfounded when I finally shared my news, . My family was indifferent, amazed that I could gain Irish citizenship without having really lived there. One cousin expressed concerns about the safety implications should loyalist paramilitaries learn about my Irish passport. He was given short shrift by elderly aunt who dismissed these fears stating that: “We’re all Irish anyway.”
Embracing dual nationality feels like a unique benefit of being Northern Irish. The Good Friday Agreement recognises our right to be British, Irish, or both. Discovering my DNA traces back to the High Kings of Ireland has only deepened my connection. If Ireland reunites, I’ll proudly identify as Irish first, with my British identity secondary, a product of colonial history.