Rebel Pride

Derry isn’t hurling country and Cork is at the other end of the earth. Not many locals will have known much of Cork hurling goalkeeper, All-Star and triple All-Ireland winner Donal Óg Cusack before he arrived to declare Derry Pride open. But he was the talk of the town afterwards.

His address sent a thrill eddying across a packed audience at the Void gallery. It has since attracted decent coverage in the mainstream media. But all of the commentary I’ve seen has focused on Donal Óg’s personal story, which is well worth the telling. There’s been next to nothing, though, on the political connections which he drew.
He spoke of the coincidence of the Stonewall riot with the onset of the North’s civil rights movement. “When the police came mobhanded… into the Bogside they sang: ‘Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees/ And we’re going to monkey around/ ’til we see your blood flowing/ All along the ground.’”
A few thousand miles away, he recalled, it was the protestors who were singing: “We are the Stonewall girls/ We wear our hair in curls/ We wear no underwear/ We show our pubic hair.”
The link between the fight for gay liberation and the struggle against discrimination in the North might seem obvious to some. But it’s a connection people you wouldn’t believe tend to shy away from – seemingly fearing it might “sectarianise” the issue and harden loyalist opposition to gay rights.
Even mention of the fact that mass resistance to police violence was midwife at the birth of gay liberation isn’t always welcomed by those who revere the recent respectability of the cause.
“I know that the journey from 1969 to here has been different in this part of the world to practically anywhere else,” Donal Óg went on. “Buried beneath a hundred other prejudices and hatreds there must be a secret history of gay men and women living out their lives in the deepest shadows… We know of the heroism of Jeff Dudgeon who, having been questioned about his personal life by the RUC, brought his case against the United Kingdom to the European Court of Human Rights, and won – 15 years after male homosexual behaviour was decriminalised in England and Wales… It took another 11 years for the 26 counties to follow suit into the modern world...”
Donal Óg applauded DUP Lord Mayor of Belfast Gavin Robinson for attending a Pride event in the city a few weeks previously, allowing that his presence “represents massive progress… It’s a huge step forward for the party of Edwin Poots and Iris Robinson…”
There was something just lovely about the gay captain of the Cork hurling team bestowing praise on a DUP mayor of Belfast for a tentative step towards enlightenment.
As measured and thrilling an account as we’ve had of the way we all struggle for one another when we confront oppression in any form, of reasons to be cheerful about how far we have come and of the need to draw breath for the road that remains to be marched.

Afterwards we got to talking about turning hurling into a global game. “The greatest game in the world,” says Donal Óg, so why not? We agreed we’d need, not just for television, a vividly coloured ball. It’s a mystery how hurlers pick the sliotar against the dappled background of a packed terrace. Cricket, just as tradition-bound, had no difficulty introducing the white ball for one-dayers.
Well, Davey McCauley and myself took exception. But we got over it.
Incidentally, Hot Press readers should make themselves more receptive to the allure of cricket. If hurling is the best game in the world, it’s a close-run thing with the thwack of willow on leather on a warm dusky evening as the run-stealers flicker to and fro, to and fro.
If it’s good enough for Samuel Beckett, Mick Jagger and me, it must be worth giving a chance.

Camogie could be the Gaelic game with real global potential. From the number of young women I see shouldering hurleys home, it’s rapidly growing. It’s the only women’s field game organised on a national basis and offering well-run structured competition. Give it five years and go for world domination.

Soak followed Donal Óg at the Void. Her set is up on Facebook. Exudes hyper-intelligent references. Bit of Björk, modicum of Melanie, nuggets of Nirvana and Noah, Beatles and Bombay Bicycle Club, Florence.
Says as well as Soak she’s Bridie and Batman and her most important lesson in life is, “Be nice to everyone and everyone will be nice to you. I think the Bible says something like that but I haven’t read the Bible so I can’t confirm it.” Brimful of confidence, a bundle of brilliance, a deft subtle way with words.
“They don’t know what love is/ Throw it around like it was worthless.”
She’s really up for it. Has done 60 gigs this year. Keep an eye out.
Saturday night post-Parade in Mason’s, so jam-packed with lesbians there’s no room for sweat, Johanna Fegan debuted new band JO. Walks like The Clash, sings like Chrissie Hynde. Has a couple of songs – ‘Salt City Blues’ – fit for any company in the firmament. Mad guitars by Dave B, Gerard O’Doherty, bassist Gerry Craig, synth-sounds Amanda J. Hudson, Paul Cassidy on disciplinary drums.
Hair between Hallowe’en orange and chimney red. She’s so gorgeous it shouldn’t be allowed.

Chrissie is 61 on September 7. Makes me depressed or delighted. I’m going with delighted.