OPINION: Multi-generational effort was needed to get marriage equality over the line

It’s only when we look back over history that we come to realise that queer identity has always been a part of Ireland.

Did you know that some scholars have suggested that Cú Chulainn, one of ancient Ireland’s most famous heroes, was bisexual and romantically involved with his friend and rival, Ferdia? It could easily be true; the Celts practiced homosexuality, and were commended for it by the Greeks and the Romans. Homosexuality was also accepted under Irish Brehon Law and only became illegal when Henry VIII criminalised it in the 16th Century.

Fellow bookworms reading this might call to mind Oscar Wilde, one of our greatest writers, and how he was prosecuted under Irish law for ‘gross indecency’ with other men in the 1800s.

We step back into the modern day. Following the Stonewall Riots in 1969, Dublin’s Pride Festival began in 1974. The murder of Declan Flynn in 1982 catalysed the gay rights movement in Ireland. Eleven years on, in 1993, homosexuality was finally decriminalised in Ireland, thanks to the efforts of civil rights activist David Norris. Twenty-two years later, we became the first country in the world to legalise same-sex marriage by popular vote, with a majority of 62% voting ‘yes’.

It’s almost like a broken record now to say that our little country has come a long way on the road to acceptance, but we might as well keep saying it because it truly is such an accomplishment. But at what point in all these years did attitudes begin to change towards same-sex relationships? Where did this ‘tipping point’ of acceptance come about?

Before I investigate, I’m going to address one question that’s usually on everyone’s minds when it comes to sexuality: is it a choice?

No matter what your sexuality is, we’ve all found ourselves at some point or other asking ourselves “why this person?” I can say with some confidence that there are three certainties in the life of a queer woman: death, taxes, and a crush on a straight person. It’s all part and parcel of the experience; it’s a learning curve. I’ve never known a queer person to choose to fall for a straight person voluntarily. It’s in those situations that you realise sexuality and attraction are far from being a choice for any of us.

How could anyone say that a person is choosing to be gay or bisexual when there is scientific evidence to show that it’s not a choice at all?

As cold and clinical as it may sound, attraction is driven by brain chemistry — or so the University of Washington found. Larry Zweifel, a neuroscientist for the University of Washington, said: “Love is the result of chemical changes that happen in the brain when we meet someone and feel that connection.” When we become attracted to someone, all three kick into high gear.

Our hearts start racing, our blood pressure goes through the roof, and we suddenly feel high as a kite.

What the poets call ‘love at first sight’ is nothing more than a chemical reaction. You might think putting it like that takes the romance out of it, but I’d argue that it makes the whole process sound more natural, more real. The point of the matter here is that you can’t control who you feel drawn to, no matter what your sexuality is. Attraction (and by extension, love) is not a choice. The choice lies in whether a person decides to pursue these feelings or not.

I spoke with Nathan (18) about how his peers responded to his coming out: “I’ve never had anyone react negatively to me when I’ve told them. When a couple of lads in my year found out, they had conversations with me to say that they respected it and if anyone ever gave me hassle, I was to let them know.”

My first instinct would be to say that Gen-Z (those born between 1997 and 2012) was the tipping point of acceptance in Ireland. Having said all that, most of Gen-Z weren’t old enough to vote in the 2015 referendum, so it might be more fitting to say that Millennials (those born between 1981 and 1996) championed this.

I spoke with Emma (30) who attended an all-girls secondary school between 2007 and 2013 about when she felt this change in attitude: “Up until about sixth year, [being queer] was always viewed as a bad thing. I wouldn’t have told many people [about my sexuality] at the time because I would have been the talk of the town. But everything started to calm down when more girls began to come out.”

Crediting everything to the younger generations feels like a disservice to the ones who came before us. Some 62% of voters legalised same-sex marriage, and that number couldn’t have been entirely made up of Millennials (and those of Gen-Z who were old enough to vote), so credit where credit is due.

We would not be in this position today if not for the hard work of people like David Norris and his peers. There are also the parents, grandparents, and other family members who had a loved one come out to them and took it in stride, and those who came to terms with it after an initial struggle. There’s no point in pretending that it’s not a culture shock for some of the older generations, especially those who grew up in Catholic Ireland.

I think it would be wrong to accredit this tipping point of acceptance solely to Gen-Z. It was a result of combined efforts from every generation; efforts to learn, accept, and change our views, no matter who we are. In many ways, we’ve brought each other to this point; for every younger person willing to teach, an older person was willing to learn.

The magic number tying us all together? 62.