By Una Mullawful
For me, the Brexit turmoil brings back the awful memories of my harrowing childhood in the republican ghetto of south Dublin.
Virtually all aspects of my life were caught up in showing support for ‘the cause’. Nowhere was this more evident than in school.
Each subject in the educational curriculum was geared towards placating the rabid republicans who populated the student population.
Home economics consisted of knitting balaclavas for the volunteers. Art class meant painting walls with murals of Gerry Adams. Geography lessons meant burning books that contained partitionist maps.
Anyone who expressed preference for Eastenders over Glenroe faced ridicule and aggression. I myself was ostracised by my contemporaries for expressing an interest in Doctor Who.
I dreamed of one day escaping this stifling mental torture and joining those who appreciated the superior culture of our neighbouring island. Luckily, I’ve found refuge at the Irish Times.
My only hope going forward is that the younger generation won’t suffer the same discrimination I have. Guest columns in the Guardian and regular media appearances are just a fraction of the cross I have had to bear.