Post-referendum brain dump. Tl;dr: Ireland trusts women

When I went to San Francisco for my J1-visa summer in 1994, I would explain to people how backward Ireland was. “There’s no divorce, even, and certainly no abortion,” I would say.

The issue of gay rights wasn’t remotely on my radar, I confess, so I didn’t even know that gay sex had only been legalised in Ireland the year before, and nobody was thinking about gay marriage back then. It wasn’t relevant to me that contraception had been hard to come by before 1985, because by the time I wanted it, it was there, so I didn’t talk about that either.

Divorce was introduced after a 1995 referendum, gay marriage was legalised in 2015, the first country in the world to do so by national plebiscite, and as of yesterday, the Irish government is finally free to legislate for abortion, so that Irish women can have bodily autonomy even while pregnant. It doesn’t sound like a big thing to ask for. It has been so long coming, and so hard won.

It is such a big thing.

I could tell you about Ann Lovett, and the X case and the C case and the brain-dead pregnant woman and Savita, but you can Google them for yourselves. Those women paved the way, sometimes paying with their lives, for yesterday’s historic, overwhelming, patriarchy-smashing referendum result.

The women who campaigned, who canvassed, who (to quote my FB status, if you don’t mind the repetition)┬áhad difficult conversations, shared past experiences, put stickers on their houses and cars, wore badges and sweaters, contributed funds and time and emotional labour,┬áhad to endure the No campaign’s horrible posters and lies, wrote impassioned blog posts, and explained things to their small children in the right terms, so that the women and girls of Ireland can look forward to a brighter future where their bodies are more their own than ever before – this is thanks in no small part to their efforts. I am so proud of my friends who did all that and more.

I don’t have a vote in Ireland any more, because you have to be a resident as well as a citizen to vote in a referendum. Only diplomats get postal votes, unlike America. So many people are entitled to an Irish passport, but Irish laws only affect you if you live there, so it’s reasonable. But I’ve been thinking about this all week, I was on edge on Thursday, luckily distracted out of the house on Friday, and delighted with the time difference that let me see the exit polls before dinnertime yesterday.

The exit polls were good. Voting in Ireland is by paper ballot (yes, we are still backwards in some ways; also there’s a saga about voting machines and a lot of money wasted that you don’t want me to go into here) and the counting didn’t start till this (Saturday) morning, but the upside of such a small country is that the exit polls can cover every constituency and are expected to be accurate to within +/- 1.5%. The exit polls predicted a sweeping victory for the yes side – much more than would be affected by a piddling 1.5%. Some people still refused to believe it until everything was counted today.

This is how it looked when everything was counted:

Source: Irish Times online

That’s pretty decisive. It was the biggest voter turnout ever, and every constituency but one returned a yes result. Ireland has finally decided to trust women to make decisions regarding our own bodies. This is monumental. It’s tragic that it’s taken so long.

A special mention has to go to the In Her Shoes facebook page, which has been sharing the harrowing stories of Irish women who travelled for abortions over the past few months. I think those stories swayed a lot of voters – they showed that there but for the grace of accident go any of us who have a uterus. I personally have never been in the position of seeking an abortion, but not because I’m a better person than anyone else, or more careful or less promiscuous. I’m just luckier than women whose contraception failed, for whom the morning-after pill didn’t work, who were raped, molested, abused, who had pregnancies with fatal fetal anomalies, who were trapped in intolerable relationships, who were too young, who couldn’t tell, who couldn’t afford to travel to England, who couldn’t take the time off or find the childcare, whose pills were seized by customs, who bled in pain in taxis and aeroplanes and bathrooms and bedrooms because they were afraid to seek medical advice after a procedure that they weren’t allowed to talk about. Way luckier.

Finally, Ireland is going to stop making women with rotten luck suffer more for it.

Thank you, Ireland.

 

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Snapshot – a quick catch-up

Swear to god I’ve nearly forgotten how to log in here. Sorry and all that. Things are better, though, so it’s all good. I’ve just been busy. Maybe time for a quick listicle. Here’s what I’ve been up to.

Writing
Today I sent my newest book off to a real editor to read. Full disclosure: she’s a friend, and she’s not going to edit it as such, but to give me a “reader’s report” – an inkling of whether the whole thing hangs together as a cohesive story, with a plot and all that necessary stuff. I hope it does, at least a little. Having self-published my first three books I’d like to try to go the traditional publishing route with this one and its successors, if possible. We shall see.

Playing
I am somewhat addicted to a game called I Love Hue on my phone. You have to move squares around until the colours all flow into each other. It’s immensely satisfying and I’m about to get to the end and then I don’t know what I’ll do with my life, honestly. I never got into Candy Crush or any of those other games other people were playing, so this is a new experience for me.

Reading
Harry Potter on a loop, pretty much, aloud, to Miss Mabel, who does sometimes deign to read some herself and is well able to. She took book 6 to school with her today, which is quite a step forward. She gets hung up on the odd new word, but it’s not beyond her ability.
Also, this book, which was recommended by Jessica of VeryMom and really helped me get unstuck with the book. Maybe next time I’ll even plot first instead of at the end.

Eating
I made an apple pie for pi day (3/14 if you do your dates the American way), which is a date I’d much rather celebrate appropriately than St Patrick’s Day, when I plan to order pizza as my traditional protest against all things Irish-American. (The supermarket is stocked with corned beef and chrysanthemums dressed up in leprechaun hats.) Anyway, I didn’t have enough pastry so I gave my pie a lattice top and it turned out very nicely. Also, I think I’ve eaten most of it.

Lattice-topped homemade apple pie
With vanilla ice cream on the side.

Watching
The Crown is the only thing I’ve got going at the moment, and I suspect I’m liking it much more than the husband, who tolerates it. But I tolerate all his superhero nonsense, so here we are. We enjoyed The Good Place and the second season of Stranger Things and when does Doctor Who start again?

Talking about
The campaign to Repeal the 8th is nothing I have to explain to anyone Irish, but readers elsewhere might not know about it. I follow the Facebook page called In Her Shoes, where women who’ve been affected by the eighth amendment to the Irish Constitution can tell their own stories. In my mind it’s all anyone should need to convince them to vote for repeal. I also came across this excellent list yesterday, the contents of which shocked some of my American friends. If you’re in Ireland, please vote for repeal.