I would like to think Mark Koopmans for making me relive this most painful memory. I will be brave for the sake of the blogfest.
When I was a little African American girl, I found this photo of a women sitting on her porch with the Irish flag framed and hung on the wall behind her. On the back of the photos was written the words Emma Pearl Pierce 1945. The women in the photo looked old and it was a grainy black and and white photos, but there was no mistaking it. Here was proof. I had an Irish great grand mother. How cool is that?
I took the photo to school for show and tell and told everyone about my great grand mother Emma. I had created this elaborate story (big surprise) about how she was born in Ireland and because of the potato famine* her family fled Ireland and settled in Virginia and then 60 some odd years later, I was born. I was so proud. *I might have had the dates a little confused considering the Potato Famine occurred in 1845.
Now, there were some disbelievers (again, big surprise), especially Kathleen Flanagan, my best friend. She had red hair and freckles and she was not ready to welcome me into her proud Irish clan.
I remember she called me a fibber (bad word, we were 7) and pulled my hair, which was certainly not red.
But, I, as a proud Irish women stood up for myself and my nationality and declared over and over again, I AM BLACK IRISH!
It turns out I am not Black Irish. The photos was of my great grandmother, but because of the quality of the photos, it made her look lighter. And the flag in the back, wasn’t an Irish flag. It was a french flag my great grandfather brought back from France.
Needless to say, I was crushed. I was just a regular little black girl from Texas. I was so disappointed.
How about your? You have any good Irish stories?
They would look the same in a black and white photo.