People Like Us
By Aisling Walsh
People like us -
circling our different worlds, stretched over two continents, across two cultures -
were never supposed to meet.
I was first to cross the border for work, then study and somewhere in between one heartbreak and a pandemic we matched on Tinder.
People like us -
White contra Morena, English contra Español, Woman contra Mujer -
were never supposed to fall in love.
But you won me over with your dimpled smile, your love for cycling and your joy of greasy tacos slathered in chilli.
People like us –
with our buzzcuts, flannel shirts, pink hair and other less visible but far more profound divergences –
Were never supposed to marry.
And though certain characteristics – our genders, our nationalities and other legalities – made this process extra onerous, we still managed a ceremony, a registry office and a party as family, friends and even some strangers came together, across two continents and three countries to share our joy.
People like us –
whose passports do not match –
were never supposed to come back.
But work, life and the promise of more adventures called us back. So we crossed my border, the one that demands a full dossier to prove our relationship, prove our marriage, prove our income, prove our employment, prove our address and countless other articles of evidence to demonstrate our legitimacy in being together on my side of the ocean. And though it felt sordid and unjust to have to prove our love to a government functionary we met for five minutes, were able to provide the necessary evidence and were awarded a stamp of approval that gives us a one year respite before we do it all again.
People like us –
who chose to be visible even when it still scares us –
were never supposed to live in a place like this.
But we found a house by the sea in the kind village I ran away from at 18 because I could no longer deal with the weight of feeling different. The kind of village where I thought people like us would never feel welcome. And even though we have won some funny looks and braved the odd catcall, we also found a community of people who are a lot like us. What a joy to discover that, 20 years after leaving home, visibility in Ireland is no longer confined to the cities and that were are not the only queers in the village.