Hello neglected readers,
I hope you are all keeping well. I write this letter on a lazy Saturday morning ensconced in bed with tea (and tea stains) to my right hand, and crumby toast to my left. I’m still in Dublin and am settling in here more and more. Between my deeply affecting and engaging work, having regular money coming in, and constantly trying to make peace with myself; I’ve settled into a good routine here. I’m still feeling like an outsider and spending a lot of time on my own but those are the cards you’re dealt when moving somewhere completely new and jettisoning the past. I do however need help coming up with a witty rebuttal to the sneering ‘so do you want a United Ireland’ questions south Dubliners ask me - so if anyone has any suggestions hit me up.
I do, of course, want a United Ireland and wrote fleetingly for The Funambulist about what I think a United Ireland could mean for sexual and reproductive justice. (This issue considers a lot more thought however.)
What is clear to me at the moment though is the hunger for education surrounding abortion right across Ireland. We at Alliance for Choice Derry have been rolling out community education workshops on abortion stigma and pills. I’m so proud to be involved in this. But I was staggered at the resistance to these workshops where recently we had an onslaught of people wailing, PRAYING and standing outside our venue opposing the imparting of knowledge. Goretti reminded me of how these kinds of people would likely have actively supported the kind of censorship in Ireland that saw contraception banned, books taken off the shelves and information about abortion access criminalised. We can never get complacent about this.
But before taking these censoring behaviours to task, it’s perhaps better to leave this conversation to the experts and what I believe will be the most important contribution to women’s history research and the history of sexual and reproductive rights in Ireland we’ve seen in decades. Laura Kelly’s forthcoming book Contraception and Modern Ireland 1922-92 is literally going to blow everyone’s minds. I'm privileged to have had a sneak peek at this book and the oral histories collected, the analysis and synthesis of policy, cultural and religious attitudes as well as activism will floor you. Follow Laura on Twitter and get ready for the launch of her truly staggering achievement.
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There will be no community learning classes from me this semester as I’m craving the in-person human experience these days. I am considering running feminist-type sessions in Dublin in early 2023 so if this would be of interest / anyone would like to collaborate, let me know!
However - if you are interested in learning and joining a course this autumn, can I recommend my lovely friend Lisa de Jong’s Menstrual Cycle Coaching & Facilitation Professional Training or her Self Care and the Menstrual Cycle course. Lisa is one of those people who is just inherently empathetic, deeply kind and a very thoughtful person. She brings all of that to her work.
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creative writing corner.
The water caressed our ankles, thighs, pubic bones. When you make that leap, from being a half-submerged body to shoulders-covered slipping into the calm oily glaze of the water, you can be proud of yourself. You have had a conversation with your body and with the biting cold; and you have won.
Our special cove has so many different personalities. On days when the current is strong and when the Atlantic and the Irish and even the North Sea start to meet, the sand is pulled back and stripped away leaving only boulders and pebbles. In the sunshine on mild days, there is a beach of white sand.
The greenery and rhododendrons always dominate the landscape. Deep dark greens pocked with pink and purple blooms are interspersed in the mint green of brambles. These plants grow right down to the ground from the high hilltop. The sand touches the greenery, but the stones are absolved.
We sit by the large boulder we use to dry our swimsuits on. Today the cove is deserted, we are in sync and feeling embarrassed because even fifteen years after leaving a convent school, there is still a reticence to know and understand our bodies. Emancipation does not come easily. Roger Casement knew that too and sometimes we swim for him, with him.
She goes far out into the sea, her figure as small now as the wind turbines on Kintyre. Watching her, there is a feeling of relief. Please get smaller, smaller, disappear. Impossible to know what life would be like after her – impossible to remember what life was like before her. A golden smile and golden hair stripped back to boulders and pebbles.
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swim corner.
I enjoyed this piece Maeve. I glad to hear that you've been settling into Dublin's fair city. It's a wonderful place, though it can be hard to create community here. It sounds like you've found some generative routines & swimming spots!
Look forward to reading more :)