“If you’re Irish and you come here and say that you’re Irish, nobody cares.” This was a response from a street interview in Ireland conducted by Chalk&CheeseTravels, where locals are asked to offer advice for tourists. “So don’t say that you’re Irish, because everyone here is Irish.” Any resident of Dublin could attest to the number of tourists roaming around the city. While tourism is both a blessing and a curse in most European capitals, tourists in Ireland often seem to seek not only historical landmarks and a leisurely vacation, but a sense of connection to their roots.
One of the many peculiar things I have observed during my four years of high school in the United States was the immediate bond white Americans forge upon discovering a common ancestry. In the supposed cultural melting pot of the world, I often witnessed people enumerating their genetic makeup as if they were describing the ingredients of a specialty cocktail. I couldn’t help but ponder the significance of these declarations. While the preservation of and learning about one’s heritage is crucial for many, a shared ethnic background for many white Americans often does not entail a shared mother tongue, moral code, or a common experience of oppression and discrimination. So, if being ‘less-than-twenty percent Irish’ doesn’t indicate a shared experience, what does it mean for the white American whose ancestors claimed the fertile land of freedom and proudly proclaimed themselves citizens of a new nation seven generations ago? One must ask where the connection to this ancestral and family history is delimited.
These scenarios are generalisations, of course, as there are still many Americans who maintained strong connections to their European roots in various ways, whether through heirloom recipes or familial traditions. It’s also worth noting that many first and second-generation European immigrants continue to bring a more immediate and authentic connection to their heritage. Nonetheless, the pronouncement of white American ancestry elicits a fundamental reconsideration of the so-called ‘American identity’ and its role in creating a factitious sense of equality.
Professor Maya Jasanoff, in a 2022 article for The New Yorker, writes that “origin stories provide collective accounts of where ‘we’ come from, but they also help some lineages claim power over others.” The establishment of power does not merely stem from the colonial past shared by many European lineages but also from the denial of access to the same reclamation of heritage for racial and ethnic minorities. This is evident in the reception of African Americans in Europe. When asked about their origin, the answer “I’m American” is often met with dissatisfaction and prolonged interrogation. The scandalous case of Lady Susan Hussey and former charity executive Ngozi Fulani is the perfect testimony. At a Buckingham Palace event in 2022, Lady Hussey repeatedly questioned Fulani, a British-born woman of African descent, about her origins, refusing to accept “I’m British” as an answer. This incident not only revealed the persistent racial insensitivity in society but also underscored the double standard minorities face in claiming their national identity compared to their white counterparts. However, the blatant ignorance is also exhibited by Black immigrants in Europe who are fortunate to know their family heritage. The reply “I’m American” or “I’m British” is frequently received as ingenuine and cursory for the Afro-diasporic population and other minorities. Minorities in the United States often grapple with frustration over their heritage and lineage, all the while white Americans freely assert their ancestral ties. The European American, in this sense, seems to enjoy the best of both worlds, being accepted as legitimate members in both communities.
While many other Europeans are able to distinguish themselves through language, the demarcation of Irish-American and the Irish people is less perceptible in this regard, making Ireland more susceptible to this form of cultural re-appropriation. Tourism, as vital as it is to Ireland’s economy, also plays a significant role in shaping how Irish identity is perceived both at home and abroad. Visitors seeking a romanticised connection to their roots often encounter a version of Ireland tailored to their desires — pubs with traditional music, rolling green hills, and ancient castles. But does this curated experience reflect the complex reality of modern Irish life? A scepticism upon the authenticity of the cultural awareness and education of the white American tourist naturally ensues: are these ancestral claims truly a celebration of cultural heritage, or are they a means to disentangle and distance themselves from the legacies of oppression that define the lives of many marginalised people today? Moreover, these claims undermine and reduce the Irish identity into a symbolic ornament. The celebration of.St. Patrick’s Day, for example, has become a day to display shamrocks and drink to one’s Irish roots in the United States: the connection to Ireland is limited to a fleeting sense of pride in an imagined past. This form of cultural appropriation is not about true heritage or a commitment to understanding the struggles of one’s ancestors; rather, it’s about consuming a piece of another culture for the sake of entertainment and identity-building.
Claiming Irish ancestry has become a popular practice for many white Americans, but it’s important to recognize that such claims often come from a place of privilege rather than a genuine connection to the lived history of oppression. They conveniently ignore the fact that the struggles of Irish emigrants were drastically different from the experiences of those who had the luxury of choosing their ancestral identity. Perhaps the real connection to one’s roots isn’t about declaring percentages or pasting flags on family trees, but much quieter—a nod to shared stories, a taste for both what grounds us and what challenges us. The difference between heritage and privilege lies in the ability to step into a story of struggle without ever having to live it. So, to my friends across the pond: maybe the next time you’re tempted to wax poetic about that “one-sixteenth Irish” you found on a DNA test, think twice. Sit back, order a pint if you like, but leave the heritage talk to those still walking the fields your great-greats once left.
