This week marks the decade anniversary of the marriage equality referendum, a movement and a moment that changed Irish society, did a tremendous amount to dismantle a good deal of homophobia in Ireland, and gave us a victory that inspired the world. It reflected a shift that had already occurred.
The result of that referendum is occasionally framed by those outside the LGBTQ+ community as something of a conclusion, a declaration that Ireland was now tolerant, and that the work was done – case closed. That’s not how things work. Rights must be protected, and there will always be forces seeking to roll them back. Still, I’m a big fan of moving on. But it was a remarkable era. Reflecting a decade later, I find myself longing for the determined sense of potential the movement brought. I miss the feeling of optimism that was fostered on this island.
I wonder what could have happened had the political figures who basked in its glory held up their side of the bargain: that this was the beginning of a new time ushering in a new kind of society from the ashes of recession, where equality for all was possible, and where people could fulfil the dreams and desires they had for their lives. Some of those desires are so simple; safety, shelter, security.
[ The Irish Times view on marriage equality ten years on: an Irish milestoneOpens in new window ]
The referendum was won because the LGBTQ+ community had already done the hard work. The movement is often misinterpreted as a campaign that took place in 2015. But in reality, it was years of activism, court hearings, conversations, debates, strategising, protests, meetings, fundraising, deliberative democracy structures, and building networks and a framework that would ultimately evolve into the referendum campaign. And before all of that, there was all the other work the LGBTQ+ community (and the intersecting feminist movement) had done, all the brave souls who came before us operating in a much more oppressive context alongside rare but vital allies. In time, the marriage equality campaign generated a blueprint which the abortion rights campaign would build upon. Today, some of those same networks – or evolutions of them – are being used in anti-racist work, and as part of the Palestine solidarity movement.
I think challenging and demanding times can make you feel very present. I can replay the day of the vote and the referendum result hour by hour. I remember every vivid scene, every conversation, every location. But what challenging times also do is prepare you for what is to come. You may think the challenge is all about that specific moment, but in many ways it’s a form of training for something down the line you can barely anticipate.
Marriage equality: ten years on, has Ireland's progressive optimism disappeared?
At the outset of this movement, there were smatterings of people attempting to make the case that same-sex couples deserved rights. This case was made literally in the courts by Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan. It was made by the small group of people in LGBT Noise, who consistently and persistently went to gay bars and clubs to speak to the community directly about the rights they were being denied, and didn’t always find a receptive audience. For years, it was made in conversations within the LGBTQ+ community as we attempted to build a movement that – given the numbers at early demonstrations – felt at times like a pipe dream.
But what we had was determination. What we had was creativity. What we had was dedication. What we had was resilience. What we had was energy. What we had was a sense of civic engagement and culture of volunteerism and organising. What we had was an uplifting pride. What we had was a righteous anger, not rooted in grievance, but in the confidence of our authentic argument, and a rejection of the cynicism, and fear-based positions of those who opposed us. What we had was hope. More than anything, what we had was each other.
[ Marriage equality a decade on: ‘Things have gone backwards’Opens in new window ]
We live in a changed country and a changed world now. Homophobia and transphobia is a characteristic of the Irish ethno-nationalist movement – one that has spread hate, violence, fear and disinformation – as it is with the authoritarian movements around the world it borrows from. Bigotry, resentment and manufactured fears, particularly those aimed at trans people, have found new avenues and expressions. Recently, walking home from the cinema with my wife, a boy on the corner just a few streets from our house, saw us holding hands and said to our faces “I f***ing hate gay people”. This is a contemporary experience of an old hate. The difference now is that most people in this country think expressing such hate is unacceptable. But that doesn’t mean old hate can’t find contemporary expressions, whether repackaged by older generations or taken up by younger ones.
The leap of trust LGBTQ+ people took in relying on solidarity to achieve equal marriage was as profound as the empathy and support that was offered. Ten years ago, when we came together, when empathy was expressed – when people who had no personal stake in the outcome of that referendum stood with the LGBTQ+ community – the movement became broad and porous. It offered multiple entry points and participation was encouraged in many different forms without judgment. That really was beautiful. And that beauty, whatever ugliness came before or after, I’ll never forget. If we can tap into that again, who knows what kind of society we could be?
