Are We Keeping the Wound Open?

by Griff Ryan-Roberts

Yesterday, during my interview with Brian "Barney" McGuigan, he asked me poignant question that made me reflect a little bit. It was in response to a question I had asked him about the educational process that his organization, Reach Across, plays with the students of Derry. I was curious about the balance between teaching these students about the Troubles, something many of them had not experienced first hand, and trying to close that chapter in history. Barney said it is a difficult balance, because it often means showing imagery and sharing stories of horrific incidents. But he then flipped the script, and asked me, how did I feel about asking community members about the Troubles? Did I feel nervous about it? Did I feel like I was opening up a wound that was trying to heal? It stumped me a little bit and I had to examine my role as a student/interviewer/outsider a little bit more than I had.

The other day a fellow student, I can't remember who specifically (I apologize if you are that student reading this), asked about all the memorials to the Troubles. She (I believe) asked if having so many memorials becomes a hindrance, rather than a help, to the healing process. If all these constant reminders of past violence are not necessarily a good thing for the people of Northern Ireland. This question and Barney's have been running through may head for the past couple days.

Mural of John Hume, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, and Nelson Mandela

What has come to mind is my father. My father, who is older than the average 27 year-old's father, was in the Air Force in the early 1960s. During that time he was stationed throughout the American South (Mississippi and North Carolina, to name a couple places) and he was fairly active in the Civil Rights movement. In fact, he was able to hear Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speak in person. During this time Jim Crow was in full effect and my father's best friend, a member of the U.S. Army, was a black man. During that time in the South, it was illegal for my father and his best friend to walk down the street together. My father could get arrested and his friend possibly worse. I grew up hearing about this time from my father and his friend. As a child and into adolescence this seemed so foreign to me. Your skin color could divide you by law, it just seemed insane. But as I got older I began to see the racism (maybe not as overt) that my father and his friend discussed. I began to see how things weren't as far off as what my father and his friend had told stories about. But not all of my (white) friends and peers seemed to know the history, to see the development. Many of my peers didn't even know about Jim Crow laws, and many other racial items of the past. Because of that, they seemed to lack the bigger picture of many racial and socioeconomic issues of the day.

Mother and child walking in the Bogside

The conclusion that I came to is that I'm very thankful to have the stories and perspective of the past, and I believe it is important for the younger generations to hear about it. These issues are not gone. They still exist, not nearly to the same degree, but they are still there. I believe it is necessary for the children of Northern Ireland to learn about the horrors of the Troubles, to know these things, to stay connected to it. Not so that they hold on to the sectarianism, but so that they can be on the look out for the next spark that may cause violence and quickly put it out.