From Kneecap to Claddagh rings, how pride in Irish culture became cool again

Even American singer-songwriter Gracie Abrams was spotted sporting a Rí-Rá cap on a recent visit to West Cork with new beau Paul Mescal, who in his own way has led the charge in our humble GAA shorts becoming a global fashion statement. Guinness shortages rocked the UK before Christmas, marking a changing tide in attitude from those across the sea.

The Gaelic revolution rings personal. I spent my early childhood at a naíonra and two summers in the back-arse of Donegal learning Irish while being thrown head first into vital lessons on life. Something that was once seen as uncool to celebrate has turned into a thing of popularity. It’s as if we’ve been given permission to embrace. And we’re running with it.

As I write, I’m wearing a Pellador jumper and Claddagh ring (the Guinness will have to wait). TikTok’s algorithm pushes Feistas an Lae (translation: outfit of the day) content onto my feed. I’ve been making an effort to throw some Gaeilge into everyday conversations with my boyfriend and have found the odd “go raibh maith agat” to a stranger always returns a smile.

So why has the Irish youth collectively adopted the role of Celtic revivalist? Author, broadcaster and lifelong purveyor of the Irish language Manchán Magan gives his two cents.

“What I think is happening is when all of the certainties were broken down — the health certainty by covid, the economic certainty by the collapse of the banks, the climate uncertainty and the government uncertainty — people started looking for something,” Magan explains.

“Cranna Foirtil is a line that the poet Máirtín Ó Direáin used, meaning ‘Stout Oars’. They’re looking for something rigid, something solid, so they’re looking back to the past and realising that our ancestors had this lore, this connection to place, to being, to timelessness. I think that gives us a certain allure, and other countries are noticing that.”

Mangan goes on to annotate that for so long, the Irish were seen as poor victims of colonisation. Though there’s no logical or rational way of explaining the sudden mass interest, there’s been a noticeable awakening, particularly in young women in their twenties. A sense and wish to reconnect with the land of Ireland. With the myths of Ireland. With the language of Ireland. “And not in a nationalistic way,” he emphasises. “Seeing that it’s part of something far greater.”

Native Irish speaker, lifelong fiddle player and co-host of the How to Gael podcast Doireann Ní Ghlacáin grew up being told that speaking Irish was uncool, but began to embrace the language and her heritage from the moment she left school.

“I had this immense sense of shame as a small child growing up in Dublin speaking Irish in front of other people. It was really not the cool thing to do,” she begins. “Once I left school,” she continues, “the most unique and special thing in my life was the fact that I was a native Irish speaker. It opened up so many doors to me.”

Ní Ghlacáin acknowledges the connection between the world burning (quite literally with the recent wildfires in LA) and the desire to reconnect with culture. “Capitalism is a huge problem,” she says. “To get specific about Irish problems, a huge thing for my generation is that they can’t buy houses.

“It’s really hard to have a stake in this country at the minute. If you’re a young person, you’re just being hammered all the time. We get messages [to the podcast] every single day from people all over the world that want to reconnect with the Irish language. People feel that they’re not able to tune into exclusively Irish broadcasting. They find that really intimidating.

“The bilingual format is a way to entice people in.”

John McGahern is one of Ní Ghlacáin’s favourite writers. Throughout his life, he made the point that Irish people have always had a problem accepting that we’re fully in charge of ourselves. That we’re our own country.

“Authenticity and indigenous arts are in a lot of ways the antithesis to the global chain of capitalism and mass consumerism that just seems to just keep going and going and going and hammering us all,” Ní Ghlacáin continues.

“By embracing your Irish culture and heritage and being proud of that, it’s kind of like a little act of rebellion against all of that.”

While Ní Ghlacáin commands the airwaves in sharing the Irish language, designer Megan Walsh adorns the streets with her Claddagh scarves, which can be seen peppered throughout the country on necks young and old who want to embrace Irish symbolism in a contemporary and stylish manner.

While studying Constructed Textiles in NCAD, Walsh spent a year in Norway focusing on fine art textile weaving. While there, she wanted to embrace her Irish heritage and created a Claddagh weave for the final project of her exchange. Returning to Ireland at the height of lockdown and looking for an outlet for her skill, Megan decided to create a scarf based on her Norwegian project.

“I wanted to make something where anyone could have a piece of home with them wherever they are. A lot of my friends were moving away at the time. So, I thought of football scarves,” Walsh tells me.

“My dad got me a Claddagh ring for my communion when I was eight, and I’ve always had that ring.”

The response to her scarves has been astounding. Releasing just 50 scarves initially, they sold out in a week. Walsh believes showcasing queer and mixed-culture relationships through her brand’s photography has also helped lead to the rapid expansion and support of her wares.

To be Irish right now is starting to be recognised and appreciated.

“In the 90s, Ireland was really poor. Doing internships and seeing that a lot of the factories and weaving mills have been lost is really sad,” Walsh says.

“Irish people for years have held a shame about it,” she continues. But Walsh recalls how positively people she has met abroad have reacted upon hearing that she is Irish. “I feel like there’s a power in that,” she concludes.

Yoga teacher and gaeilgeoir Naoise Ní Bhroin hosts Tabhair Aire (Take Care) — a yoga event which encourages connection to the body as much as it does connection to Irish culture. “Growing up, we’d always try to speak Irish to each other, labhairt Gaeilge ag am dinnéar,” Ní Bhroin says.

“Our language is such a huge part of our identity. It teaches us about our ancestors because the way they spoke was so poetic and they connected a lot of words with the land. One of my favourite words is pógíní gréine which is the Irish for freckles. It directly translates to ‘kisses from the sun’.”

“I went to an Irish school, but growing up, it wasn’t something I was particularly proud of. When I started integrating it into my career as a yoga teacher and got such positive feedback, it made me realise how important it is to speak it, and how much of an appetite there is for people to want to learn it.”

In all realms of society, the youth of Ireland seem adamant to embrace ár dteanga agus cultúr. Cork-based initiative Anam Teanga hosts bilingual social events around the idea of a cirorcal comhrá (conversation circle). 

Beginning in September 2024, the idea encapsulates the seanfhocailaí ‘Tír gan teanga, tír gan anam’ (a country without a language is a country without a soul) and ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná mBearla cliste’ (broken Irish is better than perfect English). The bilingual format allows an air of accessibility. 

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Events range from Íoga (Yoga) agus Sauna to poetry readings with pints and DJ sets.

Social encounters that encourage the use of ár dteanga, fashion statements and accessible entertainment are all spearheading a revolution in the widespread embrace of Irish culture. A way to connect with ourselves, each other and our land in a time of turbulence, Irish is not just cool, it’s essential.