Let’s see…my mother is Greek, I was born in Greece and raised in America while going back to Greece every few years.
I consider myself Greek/American. My father has Irish/Scottish/British descent, but I’ve always seen him as solely American. I guess that’s because his family came from Ireland like in the 1860’s or something. ehehehe.
My mom’s family is of Irish extraction (she qualifies for Irish citizenship, although I don’t), and when I was in Ireland for a few days, I had one dude rip into me for this very thing. And believe me, I wasn’t going around announcing that I was Irish or anything. I actually don’t identify strongly with that side of my heritage because it is so steeped in Catholicism and I am Jewish.
Anyway, I hadn’t given it much though before then, but in discussing it with this guy, I came to conclusion similar to jjimm’s above post. There is a distinct Irish-American subculture, even generations removed from Ireland. I’m a third generation American, maybe I’m too far. I felt as much a foreigner in Ireland as I did in any other country I visited. Beautiful place and I’d love to go visit my DoperFriends there, but hardly a homeland.
I remember when I was in 6th grade our social studies teacher asked each student in class his or her nationality. Each student promptly revealed his or her ethnic background instead of simply saying “American”. While the students were incorrect in claiming ethnic background as nationality, it shows how even as kids we viewed ourselves.
I was born and raised in the suburbs, but my particular town had its own groups in its respective neighborhoods (mostly in terms of race), as well as its own groups due to things such as religious affiliations (Irish and Italians making up the majority of local Catholics, with a large Jewish population as well).
Older people in the neighborhood would identify others, sometimes disparagingly, based on ethnic background (hence my not using the -American hyphenation). Be it the connotation of a stereotype or simply a noting of not being one of “us”, I would hear things like “Yeah, he’s Jewish” or “His son married an Italian girl”, etc.
I’m half Irish and half Polish, my father’s Irish side of the family being here for a very long time, my mother’s Polish side of the family coming to America at the turn of the century. In saying so I’m referring to my ethnic background in the way that people referred to theirs where I grew up.
I know that my cultural connections to Ireland and Poland are tenuous due to the passage of years and generations, but in my suburban neighborhood it seemed to me that ethnic identity growing up had less to do with a mother country and more to do with others also claiming that ethnic background. Eventually, Irish didn’t necessarily mean “born in Ireland”; instead, it meant that one’s ancestral roots were in Ireland, and that one identified with others whose roots were in Ireland, and how whatever that was still linked to those roots, be it religious faith or continuing traditions, was shared among those using the term. In such a sense, the -American hyphenation wasn’t necessary because it was assumed. To say that one was Polish was to say that one was an American of Polish ancestry and whatever traditions that still lived through the generations since one’s ancestors came to America.
Perhaps my limited experience growing up in a suburban town does not reflect the greater number of people, but I can imagine it being just this way in city neighborhoods that were ghettos years ago. This would also be the case in still existing ghettos with new immigrants from homeland X arriving still, but with a stronger connection to homeland X.
I had no idea! The man is a disgrace to his initials.
I don’t say that I’m “English” (because I’ve never been there) but I do occasionally mention my “English roots.” Because they are there in our family. My dad made sure of it. (His dad, my grandfather, moved to Hollywood from England when he was a young man. My dad visited England a few times, kept in touch with all the folks back there, and tried to keep as much of his “English heritage” as he possibly could.)
One of my friends mocked me when I mentioned that my “English roots” may have contributed to…something—I can’t remember—that I did a certain way. “You’re no more ‘English’ than I am!” he mocked.
Well, maybe. But growing up, we had English relatives visit us pretty much every damned year. (All the relatives loved it because they knew that they had real live kinfolk in the Los Angeles area! They got to crash at my aunt’s house and we all loved to give them the tour of Disneyland, Forest Lawn and so forth.) Getting to know all these relatives, and also having a father who clung fiercely to many little “English” things he’d picked up from his dad (pronouncing “herbs” like the proper name “Herb,” for instance), well, it does tend to rub off on you. Not to mention all the heated discussions about the Royal family (are they necessary? has their day past?), well, yeah, it makes a little dent on you. And all the English gifts we got each year. And the phone calls, occasional telegrams, and so forth.
I’m not saying that I’m really all that English, because I’ve never been there. But I think my dad made damned sure that something rubbed off on us. Maybe it’s just an openness to something particularly English, or a peculiar pronunciation of something, or whatever. But if your folks want it to rub off on you, it probably will. I am sure there are many Greek-American, Italian-American, Scottish-American, or Armenian-American (and so forth and so on) families who can testify to this.
This is an interesting thread.
I see myself as Scottish. My mother was born and raised in Scotland, she emigrated when she was sixteen. My father’s mom was also Scottish, his dad was Finnish. My maternal grandparents lived across the street from us since before my birth, and gram watched me (from age one and a half) when mom went back to work. Gram was a guiding influence in my life, and she was quite definitely a nationalistic Scotswoman. When I learned to talk, I learned it from gram (mostly.) I spoke with a Scottish brogue until I went to school and unlearned it. I listened to her stories of the “homeland” and felt it was MY homeland as well. I LOOK Scottish, I FEEL Scottish, I THINK Scottish.
I am an American, and proud of it. (Well, until recently…no, that is not quite correct…I am STILL proud of it, just ashamed of what has been done recently in our name I guess) BUT…I still feel like I have a foot in either country.
You know, gram LOVED this country. She was the most patriotic person I knew…she celebrated the freedom from poverty, the ability for her family to rise to become SOMETHING because of the opportunities here that she and gramp didn’t HAVE in Scotland. She loved everything aBOUT America. Still…she loved her country of birth and she passed that love on to me.
Is that so wrong? For me to feel that love, and be proud to identify so strongly with it?
There was a hilarious article about this phenomenon on theonion.com but i can’t find a link. I found it strange when i visited the United States that my cousins referred to each other as Irish and their friends as Italian, Mexican, Norwegian, German etc. I was expecting to meet people with Italian, Mexican, Norwegian, German accents like in Europe but they were all just Americans to me. ( Not that there is anything wrong with identifying with one’s ancestry)… I also think its hilarious when people say they love “Irish Accents” without knowing what Irish people sound like. ah begob it be strange times we do be living in,
is mise le meas,
mogi
;j
I generally just claim mutt, but I wanna be Irish-American! My paternal grandmother, Mary Catherine Roe, came over on a boat at some point or another, but her family didn’t buy into the whole culture preservation thing at all. I never knew Grams was Irish until she died and we were cleaning out the house.
Oh, and I like reading Father Greeley, and I adore scones and potatoes and other artery-clogging carb bombs, and I roll my eyes appropriately at all the tattoos claiming to be Celtic…c’mon, can’t I get like an honorary mention? 
I’ve always just thought folks did that because we as a group don’t have a collective ethnic heritage, no intricate folk dances or quaint costumes or cool foods, nada. So people grab onto a percentage of their ancestry to fill a need to be something.
It’s one of my pet hates too. An interest in heritage isn’t the problem, it’s that minority that thinks they understand a nationality and can claim an interest in political or social issues they know fuck all about, when in truth they’re no more clued up than any other tourist of any nationality. I’ve seen English people claim to be Scottish, Americans claim to be Irish and every other combination, so it’s not a particular criticism of any particular nationality (although, in my own anecdotal experience, it seems more common in a minority of Americans visiting non-English parts of the UK and Ireland). There’s nothing wrong with a genuine interest in family heritage and all that, it’s just that handful that take it one step to far as if it’s some kind of status symbol.
Yet further evidence that Texas stands apart from the “South”.
Doghouse Reilly, Texan
yee haw, y’all
Actually, here in Central TExas, a LOT of people held on to their ethnic roots and their Old Country languages a lot longer than you’d expect. Just within my circle of friends, there are several people who still speak fluent Czech, even though their ancestors left what’s now the Czech Republic in the 1840’s or 1850’s.
(Obviously, when they meet genuine Czechs, they find that the American dialect differs substantially from what you’ll hear in Prague).
And in small towns of Central Texas, it’s still common to see churches with names like “First English Lutheran Church,” a reflection of the fact that, until about 25 or 30 years ago, there were STILL many Lutheran churches here conducting services in German.
Anybody have a problem with THOSE people continuing to call themselves “German” 150 years after their ancestors settled in Texas?
**
In my case, all four of my grandparents were born in Ireland and came to America in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s. Do I consider myself “Irish”? Not in any authentic sense. I’ve been to Ireland many times, and love the place and the people- but I’ve never regarded it as home. My genuinely Irish grandparents had very different thoughts on the subject. My dad’s parents (from farms in Westmeath and Limerick, respectively) regarded themselves as Americans, and didn’t miss much about Ireland at all. Oh, they continued to love the old Irish music, and would root for Irish athletes when the Olympics were on TV, but that’s about it. They never sentimentalized rustic life in Ireland because they KNEW it first-hand! And they knew they had a much better life in NEw York than they ever could have in Ireland.
On my Mom’s side, it was different. They never stopped thinking of themselves as Irish, and often seemed to regard America as a land of exile.
Everyone seems to be at least a 16th Native American, too. Strictly speaking, it’s not at all unlikely, but the very fact that they care so very much make me suspicious.
So, what would I call myself? Going back in my family tree, the nationalities that I descend from are French, Scottish, Irish, and English, and Dutch.
So, if I were to call myself a something American, maybe it would be European American?
I don’t see what the fuss is. In the U.S., people use the words “Irish” or “German” or “Polish” as ethnic indicators, unless the context is clear that they mean nationalities. If someone says “I’m Swedish,” we know he isn’t saying he holds citizenship in Sweden. We know it means he’s the type to study for a urine test.
Scandinavians have that one overall descriptor they can use, and because it doesn’t apply to nationality, it’s very handy. But do we still want to tell the Swedes from the Norwegians? Oh, yaaaaah.
So if a fellow is named Tony DiMaggio, and his parents and grandparents and great-grandparents have all grown up in the U.S. – but always marrying other Italian-Americans – then Tony DiMaggio is Italian. To us in the U.S. anyway. Doesn’t matter how long ago his ancestors came over. Same if the fellow is Sean O’Casey. If all his forebears married other Irish-Americans, then when did he stop being ethnically Irish? We know he’s American. Saying “I’m Irish” is a way of informing someone about your background and subculture, especially in the U.S. towns and neighborhoods that retain strong ethnic identities.
BTW, I go to Greek and Italian restaurants all the time. I’m not going to start calling them Greek-American and Italian-American restaurants. Nip on down to the Irish-American pub and we call talk it over.
What’s even more pathetic is the preponderance of white people who claim to be of Indian descent with NO proof whatsoever.
We’re talking about the whitest, lamest motherfuckers you can think of who proudly say, “My great-great-great-great grandmother was half-Cherokee, so that makes me part Indian.”
No, it makes you a lamer. Also makes you a poseur, since you’re evidently not interesting enough to get by on the strength of your personality, so you have to claim exotic heritage. It’d be one thing if it was within two generations or so, but when you start saying “Well, my family began when my wino forebear got off the prison ship in Boston and fucked the first woman he saw, who happened to be an Indian” well, it just really means nothing.
Here, let me be an lamer for a moment and join the fun and explain my great heritage: my father was from Scotland, moved to the United States and met my mother and spawned me. My materal grandfather was a Polish immigrant and my materal grandmother was descended from Dutch stock in PA.
Let’s see, that makes me 50 percent Scottish, 25 percent Polish, 25 percent Dutch. Right?
Nope. I’m an American, plain and simple.
This national obsession with boasting foreign heritage has to stem from some widespread lack of self-esteem, methinks. What’s wrong with just being a plain fuckin American?
I wonder how the OP feels about the terms “Asian” and “Pakistani” etc being used in the U.K. to describe even 2nd generation Brits with those ancestral backgrounds.
Bwahahahahahahahaha!!!
Good 'un.
Cowgirl, I was a toddler when my family emigrated from England to the U.S., and, while I usually do claim to be from the city I live in and grew up in, I sometimes get called out because I still have a trace of an accent. I also respond to some things a bit differently than a lot of Americans, notably issues involving religion, abortion, and alcohol, which seem to be a much bigger deal over here.
The thing is, at least in my city, there are all kinds of festivals celebrating one’s ethnic heritage. Take today. I won’t be going to the Highland Games about 40 miles east of the city because I’ve got too many other things to do. Instead, my plans are to take in the Dragon Boat races (Chinese), and then, perhaps, wander down to the Celtic festival. Now, I’m an 8th and a bit Irish, not to mention I have an unfortunate weakness for bagpipes, so that may account for the Celtic festival. I’m not one drop Chinese, however. Both look like a lot of fun and good ways to spend a sunny Saturday, though. By the way, Guinastasia, if you want in, give me a call before about 9:30.
CJ
Uhm… not that it matters, but I think my great great great something grandmother was Powhatan confederacy. Not sure, though. Mostly because, yes, my forbear got off the boat and had sex with the first woman he saw, who was indian. Plus or minus. Some people set great stock in the fact that they’re descended from Charlemagne, or Washington. I’m just interested in how far back we can trace things. More interesting is the evidence that one of my great-something aunts was hung at New Salem for witchcraft. Booga.
Look, seriously, the Irish and English thing, as far as this goes, was very important, up till at least the 1930s, and probably after, though not as much so. For want of a better term, the rivalry between the two tribes, at least east coast wise, was nigh… how can I say this. Well, brutal. The English treated the Irish like, well, like black people were treated in the 60s. Ever hear of the “Know Nothing” or “Native American” parties?
There’s nothing like oppression and conflict to keep a strong interest in ethnicity and heritage. Go figure. These days, it’s almost gone, but personal heritage remains. My mother’s cooking skills come from her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother, and so on, as do her family traditions. Would you say she’s any less jewish because her family has not been in Israel for a thousand years?
Bruce_Daddy! My word! You don’t get more Scottish than that!
We are kinsman, aye, but I’ve never met one who still carries the name!
Bring out the haggis!
Nyah! It’s just another excuse to celebrate! Besides, some people are just interested in that sort of thing and others aren’t.