Ebun Oladeru,
stylist & designer

I wrote ‘Where Ye From?’ expecting it only to be read by my boyfriend, Dylan, who’s one of the Bally Boyz. But he said, “We should definitely record this; any ideas what the background music should be?” I straight away knew it had to be Sinéad O’Connor’s ‘Thank You For Hearing Me’. Her Universal Mother album struck a massive chord with me as a kid. Sinéad’s always stood up for Irish people, often at considerable cost to herself, so I’ve a lot of respect for her.

The words are just stuff I’ve discovered myself or picked up over the years from my family. My parents know a lot about their history on both the Irish and Nigerian sides. It was so rare, growing up, to come across another mixed-race family, which made the likes of Paul McGrath and Phil Lynott so important. It meant that we weren’t alone, which was really comforting. My Mum is from Dublin 8, so she remembered seeing Philo walking around. It’s history that needs to be taught in Irish schools.

Watch ‘Where Ye From?’ below:

Where Ye From
Written by Ebunoluwa Oladeru

No matter where I go in the world I’m interrogated about where I’m from.
Why is it so hard to believe you can be black & Irish?
D’ye not remember the Afro-Celts that walked before me?
That put this island on the map?
D’ye need to be reminded of Phil Lynott & Paul McGrath?
Actually, I’ll remind you of Rachael Baptist, Mrs. Crow
That sang across this country in the 1700’s
Or the children the Catholic church institutionalised for decades.
How about the 3,000 freed slaves arriving on our 18th century shores; tradesmen, painters, musicians & activists
Find another whose rights are denied

In England skin colour felt secondary for once,
Now I’m overreacting to famine jokes
Now all Irish women get around so, no wonder I’m black
No wonder I see through every veil, every masquerade & intension because my ancestors spent centuries fighting those who orchestrate illusions
I’ve only lived in times of recycled trends & traditions
I use the past instead of the media, where our stories are kept so hidden... If taught about visits to Ireland by Civil Rights leaders who supported our fight for our occupied counties, maybe my father wouldn’t have needed more than his education & banking experience to work in 1980’s Irish banks.
If we knew of the black Irish still singing sean nós on the Caribbean islands
My mother wouldn’t have been labelled a traitor,
Yet the signs that read no blacks, no dogs, no Irish were engrained in me since birth... My unique perspective resonates with black & Irish surviving America together in the not so distant past
Or those denied cultural assimilation in 1950’s England
This unique perspective gave me understanding that I am not oppressed, if I believe that I am oppressed I play into an inferior role
The hands of those who want to be superior
The hands of those who declare they’re not racist, now expecting an award
Marching for social media, choosing to stay quiet about the child that risked his life for the smart phone you use to broadcast pleas & ultimatums

No Black, No Dogs, No Irish, no longer covers shop windows
The energy now dispersed in distractions from the root
The roots I straightened every morning of secondary school
Will be the roots my niece twists in all its natural kink
No crying for freedom, our tears are but temporary healers
We claim our freedom & equality through our resilience, our innovative thought, our folklore, our literature, our music, our dancing, our cultures & traditions
Education, organisation, integration & the right to your own opinion
Can only be a catalyst in healing preconceptions

Read Part 1 of 100 Voices: #AllAgainstRacism, in the current issue of Hot Press. Available to pick up in shops now, or to order online below:

Special thanks to the Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission for their support in this project.