Mitchell Scholar Blogs

I recently composed this piece for my Music and Media Technologies course at Trinity, and I thought it would be nice to showcase it here. “Walking Home Simulator” is an ambient soundscape written for my Electroacoustic Composition 1 module. For this project, I was challenged to take field recordings in and around Dublin and create a hybrid acoustic-electronic piece that manipulated this original source material to create a tension between realism and surrealism. In “Walking Home Simulator”, I explore concepts of homesickness, belonging, and the conditions that prompt the development self-identity. These themes are very important to me as an artist, but this exercise was an opportunity for me to explore them in an avant-garde style. Unlike my usual work, this is not a pop song or a folk song: it’s an experimental soundscape, and a slow burn to boot. So you’ve been warned! 😉 Program note and audio file attached below.

Walking Home Simulator.

Title Screen 

→ Settings 

→ Set Walk Time => Abridged 

→ Main Menu 

→ Run Simulation

Text Bubble: 

“Walk Until You Find A Spot That Feels Like Home. Collect the Feeling of Home.”

This composition was developed by cutting, pasting, sampling, editing, and combining excerpts from a large 2-hour recording of a walk from Dublin City Center to Phoenix Park. All sounds featured in this project were recorded on a mid-side stereo microphone pair inside a Zoom H2n recorder.

Dublin is a long way from where I call home. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of people, a lot of *stuff* going on. Every surface and object has a complex sense of function and form. Crammed onto every city block are eight different buildings of nine different architectural styles, each with ten sounds and smells emanating from eleven storefronts or apartment windows. 

The one thing there isn’t a lot of in Dublin is… nothing. There’s a distinct lack of still, innocuous, unremarkable nothing. The only one place in the city you can find unadulterated nothing is out in the middle of Phoenix Park. I think that’s why I’m so drawn to the space. Phoenix Park is so huge that it still contains little fragments of undeveloped places. And I don’t mean “undeveloped” in the conventional sense. I mean it in a perceptual sense. There are places in Phoenix Park that are unacknowledged, unconsidered, and wholly unremarkable, simply because nobody’s gotten around to considering them. Back home in Alabama, there’s “nothing” everywhere. Even in the South’s large metropolitan areas, you have to drive through a lot of nothing to get somewhere to do something. Little in-between spaces on your way to work. Long patches of highway median on the commute from Birmingham to Tuscaloosa.

So, this composition is dedicated to nothing. More broadly, it’s dedicated to the little things that feel like Home… the ones that are impossible to search for, because they’re impossible to define. But sometimes you get lucky and find one.

(headphones recommended)

It has always been fascinating to me the idea of having multiple homes. How often times a traveling mind never settles in one place, but instead creates a map of tiny homes that come together in a beautiful adventure called life. During one of my lectures on Documentary filmmaking at a new flourishing documentary course at Dublin City University, we were tasked to make a short film on each other. Randomly assigned someone’s history, secrets and dreams to do as we please, it was a vulnerable moment for all.

“Would you read a book about your life?,” someone asked to spark our imagination.

It was funny because my motto in life has always been to live my life so that I could write a book about it at the end, with all the pictures, romances, travel and people remembered in it.

My friend once told me, our mind is like a house. Each owner of a house arranges his abode in his own way. Someone glues wallpaper; someone fills the library only with the books he has read; some only scrub the kitchen or only have time to make the bed; I also know people who are exclusively engaged in decorating the facade and the yard. 
Nevertheless, in the course of life we ​​constantly meet potential guests. It is at the discretion of the owner to let them in or not.

“Creating a home in a new place”

But you, I will let in a little closer. I bought carpets to make my room cozy, flowers on the window so their smell fills up the flat. A gorgeous park nearby, right by my window, with sunlight shining through and dogs running around with their owners rushing by. DCU is like a small town that functions on its own – on the left there is pharmacy with friendly Irish staff, walk a little further and you see a big gym with 50 clubs, cycling and swimming pool. Walk a little more and you have tents with organizations inviting students to join (I tried out karting for the first time, and that was a thrill!) Right on campus we have a huge concert hall, and I went to see an a capella group of 4 men singing Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody and Frank Sinatra’s songs. You already know that was spectacular!

“And always homemade food!”

I immediately fell in love with my school. A bus ride away from the Dublin city center, DCU feels like a cozy countryside, charming and peaceful. Recently I was chosen to be one of the Post-Grad Ambassadors for the school – a job so familiar to me from the University of Oklahoma- and we are already at task, giving tours and filming promotional videos for my Documentary Practice program.

Last week I went to Dubrovnik, Croatia for reading week with my American friends, and right after to Oxford to film a documentary on Syrian refugees an their relationship with music. For my class I am filming a short film on a Nepalese colleague, who sings and acts and explores his own idea of home. Next week the Mitchells and I are flying to Vienna for Christmas Markets and a concert at Musikverein Golden Hall. I have gone to Irish pubs with live music and singers, and it seems like every corner of Ireland hides brilliant souls, with charismatic personalities, sarcastic nature and welcoming presence. How do you not feel at home in such a beautiful country?

Signing off for now…

Watching a handful of sheep graze nearby while the rest of our troop huffed and puffed their way up the rest of the path, I was left with that subtly familiar sentiment one finds themselves grappling with having fallen over the cusp of a big life change: if you had told me a year ago, or even senior year of college me, that I would be starting a life in my fourth country in five years, I would have laughed and never believed a word. And yet, here I was, standing on a hill in county Louth – Ireland’s smallest county – watching the sun go down next to my now exhausted companions.

As my peers in my MSc course in Global Mental Health at Trinity sat around me, it appeared that mental fortitude, rather than physical stamina, was our preferred forte based on our climbing performance. We had spent the day on a journey to a pumpkin patch (note: difficult to find in the middle of the Irish countryside) and stopped by Carlingford to make Halloween decorations that evening and were quick to blame the excursion to excuse our poor performance. One of my classmates was a local from the town of Ardee and had invited us for a weekend stay with his family (full Sunday Irish roast, Gaelic football match, chippery and all). Finding myself outside of Dublin for the first time since crossing the Atlantic, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in the first few weeks of settling in.

It’s not that I wasn’t comfortable being in large cities – as a native New Yorker, truly it was anything but. Yet, I hadn’t still fully let myself go since my arrival, almost too aware and conscious of my new Irish surroundings. Did I like it here? Did I make the right choice? Did the people here like me? Was I going to make the most of the opportunity I had been given? Making my way through the busy streets of Dublin, whether on my way to a volunteer shift at the National RehabilitationHospital or meeting friends at McSorley’s for Thursday night pub quiz, I hadn’t given myself the opportunity to slow down and actually form answers to these questions spinning around in my brain.

I’ve always been an overthinker – someone who needs to look at all the evidence, know every potential option and compare them in order to feel comfortable finally choosing a path forward. In many ways it’s served me well, sure, as if I’m nothing if not thorough, with all dotted i’s and crossed t’s. But frankly, this mindset has also removed some of the spontaneity, spirit, and courage that have proved essential and crucial to my life’s most fruitful and fulfilling choices. Even as a man of science, attempting to recognize this by taking the plunge and coming to Ireland was a leap of faith.

And so as I let the full exhale leave my lungs, breath condensing softly in front of me and coiling wispily around my hands, I was struck by the uncharacteristically straightforward nature of my own thoughts: yes. For now, whatever the question was, the answer was yes. While I may have written this entire blog post about a moment composed of only a few seconds, to me it spoke of something greater and more fundamental. Surrounded by new friends in a new and beautiful place, the uncertainty would remain but more importantly would the joy in chances taken, bonds forged, and experiences had. And, even if just for a moment, that was enough for me.

Every Tuesday night since I’ve arrived in Belfast, I’ve been heading to my Irish class at An Droichead – an Irish language school off the Lower Ormeau Road in South Belfast. I had previously been taking courses with An Droichead virtually over the past three semesters. Needless to say, people were shocked to see me in person in September – they had only known me as the American on the Zoom screen! Since I now have a bit of Irish, I want to provide updates of my first two months in Belfast with a wee bit of Irish vocabulary interspersed.


My classmates and me at An Droichead

An Teach Beag – ‘The Wee House’

On Tuesdays, after my Irish class finishes up, I’ve been going to the Hawthorn Bar, also known as the ‘Wee House,’ to attend their open mic nights. This weekly event gathers artists, poets, and magicians from across Belfast to perform and gather in community. The pub is known as the Wee House since it lies in a small house on a residential street off the Falls Road – as you sit down for a pint, you feel like you’re sitting in your friend’s living room. Going here for the first time was especially cool for me considering my great-grandpa would have grown up just a few houses down on Hawthorn Street.

Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello at the Hawthorn open mic

Amanna maith le mo chol ceathracha – ‘Good times with my cousins’

I frequently ride the bus to West Belfast to visit my cousins who live in the Poleglass area. They’ve been so welcoming to me since I arrived. My cousin Trisha makes the best Irish stew in Belfast, so I’m up there on a weekly basis for dinner. Last week, I gathered with most of my cousins to celebrate the 60th birthday of a family friend. I impressed my two cousins who are Gaeilgeoirí (fluent Irish speakers) by holding some conversation.

My cousins and me at the birthday party

Ag rith in aice leis an abhainn agus ag siúl ar na sléibhte – ‘Running by the river and walking in the mountains‘

My student accommodation is a short distance away from the Lagan River, so I’ve been frequenting the riverside trail for runs to Ormeau Park and back. From the east side of the river, you can see the Black Mountains in the backdrop of Belfast city centre. I also recently visited Newcastle to see some of my cousins and visit the house where my grandparents used to live. We hiked up the Mourne Mountains and saw sheep, horses, and cattle along the way! We also went on a bus tour of the Antrim Coast, stopping at the Giant’s Causeway. Go hálainn (beautiful)!


Run by the River Lagan Me at the Giant’s Causeway

Overall, these first two months have been wonderful. I’m deepening my connections to Ireland and my cousins, making friends within my graduate course and around Belfast, and enjoying time with the rest of the Mitchell cohort as well. I’m thrilled for the rest of the year ahead. Slán go fóill! (Bye for now!)

Writing this post on what feels like an especially turbulent day, I find myself reflecting on the experience of being an American living abroad during such a charged time. Since the election results were announced this morning, I’ve seen countless peers in the U.S. expressing a desire to leave a country that ‘no longer represents their hopes, dreams, or values’ (words from an internist and pediatrician that I worked with in Massachusetts, who has been providing crucial medical care to unhoused and immigrant communities). Friends have even been messaging me—half-jokingly, half-seriously—about exploring immigration options to move to Ireland.

It is a unique privilege to be in a city where the weight of the election results isn’t fully palpable. Eight years ago, when Trump won, I remember the profound silence that blanketed campus after students stayed up late, hoping to celebrate America’s first woman president. This morning, I woke to sunlight streaming into my room—a rare and welcome gift after a week of constant clouds. 

I don’t know if my right to marry my partner will be protected in the future, whether performing certain medical procedures might put my nursing license at risk, or if the foundation of my citizenship will one day be questioned. While the uncertainty of the future is daunting, I wanted to revisit the beautiful experiences and people I’ve encountered in Ireland, through a list. 

Though it has only been two months, I know this list of tiny joys will continue to grow far beyond the length of my program and into wherever my career takes me. And who knows? Like many Mitchell Scholars before me, perhaps it will take me back to this beautiful Island. I certainly wouldn’t mind.

1. I recently had my first day as a Project Worker at Merchants Quay Ireland (MQI), where I will be working at Ireland’s inaugural safe injection facility (SIF), which seeks to address the overdose crisis. The SIF is slated to open in mid-December and the team’s enthusiasm is infectious. In my essay for the Mitchell application, I wrote about wanting to work at MQI. Being offered a job was a pinch-me moment. 
2. I’ve visited the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher twice already and can’t wait to return.
3. Saoirse and Eliza, two classmates from my Addiction Recovery course, are my newest lovely friends.
4. Bambino’s pizza reminds me of home (NYC) and of my dog (Bambina). 
5. Despite my hour-long commute to class, I’m rewarded each day with the sight of swans along the Luas route.
6. Living in a dorm again for the first time in 5 years has been surprisingly enjoyable. Sharing close quarters with three fellow Mitchell Scholars—Anna, Coleman, and Owen—has rekindled the simple joy of living near friends.
7. Got my first American traditional tattoo at the Dublin tattoo convention.
8. Had my first laser tattoo removal treatment a few days later (for a separate tattoo).
9. Started learning Irish – Dia duit! Agus go raibh maith for reading this far. 
10. Got to see deer up-close at Phoenix Park. 
11. Celebrated Halloween in Derry, which included visiting two museums, going to the beach, and enjoying a fireworks show. Kiera and I’s hotel room overlooked a field with cows — a sight we looked forward to every morning.
12. Despite bringing my kindle with me, I have already bought five books from local bookshops and have no plans to stop. 
13. Started volunteering with St. John Ambulance and met some fellow international nurses.
14. Discovered a talented artist at BlackRock Market who crafted a hand-knit sweater for my dog.
15. Tried the famous Xian Street Food spice bag, and was not disappointed. 
16. Hosted my cousin and my partner, and I look forward to welcoming more friends and family to my new home. 

A few days ago, a friend from home reached out and asked if I’d had any “pinch me” moments since arriving on the island. My immediate response was that this entire experience has been a pinch me moment. I thought back to receiving the semi-finalist email, the phone call when I made it to the finalist pool, and then the moment Trina said I won the scholarship. I was in shock. All I could say was, really?!

I’ve dreamed of moving to Ireland to write since I was a teenager. Every day that I wake up and remember that my job is to read and to write and to go to class is a pinch me moment. I’ve been here for two months, but in many ways, it still feels surreal.

Belfast is an incredible city to be an artist. A few days after I arrived, I signed up for an improv class, and last Friday I had my first performance (ever!) at Lavery’s, an iconic local pub and comedy club. On Monday nights, I perform my original music at The Sunflower, another amazing pub and music venue. Last month, I had the opportunity to read my poetry (another first!) at an open mic run by the Queen’s Literary Society.

The Irish people seem to have an innate and powerful grasp on effective storytelling, and I want to soak up as much of it as I can. Last month, I attended an event called Tenx9 at The Black Box. Nine people share ten-minute stories, and let me tell you, these stories were AMAZING. I laughed, I cried. I mean, half these people weren’t “writers” in any traditional or professional sense; they were just incredible storytellers with a total mastery of suspense and comedic timing. I was seriously blown away!

All my classes are in the Seamus Heaney Centre, a newly renovated home for writing students at the MA and PhD level. In addition to housing the post-grads, the centre offers endless community writing events. On Tuesdays, I go to “Write Night,” a workshop for writers all around Belfast.

My favorite workshop so far is called “Here and There,” taught by author and Queen’s alumna, Shahminee Selvakannu. The monthly course explores ideas of home, migration, displacement, and belonging, and honestly, I really needed it. As wonderful as the last two months have been, it hasn’t been easy to be away.

My feeling of homesickness was exacerbated by the loss of my Nana, who died of pancreatic cancer the day after I arrived in Belfast. Nobody was more excited about my year in Ireland as my Nana, whose dad emigrated from the island as a teenager. It’s hard to believe that this time last year, I was taking a short story class with my Nana. She was a great writer herself, my biggest cheerleader, and always the first person to lay eyes on my work. She’s always seen me as the person I’m becoming, and while this loss is a devastating one, it’s also given me a reason to show up. Nana had complete and total belief in me as a writer, and I’m following that belief like a guiding light this year.

Sitting in a café one Saturday afternoon, I watched as a tall, imposing man wearing a silver and black Oakland Raiders bomber jacket entered with his wife. An Irish woman with a fabulous curler-finished blow out, she dawned a beautiful, colorful scarf and several necklaces. Feeling a bit homesick for the first time since moving to Dublin, I immediately took note of the man, who was probably American. The Raiders are Las Vegas’s new American football team, where I am from.

Working on my coursework for my MSc in Digital Policy, I overheard the duo joke to another pair about being an American-Irish couple. In hopes of making some new acquaintances, I introduced myself, another American transplant to Dublin. They immediately struck up conversation with me, talking about American sports, pawn shops in Las Vegas, Irish newspapers, Mohair scarves, and the impending Irish winter. They were immensely warm to me when they didn’t need to be, a kindness I appreciated that day as I missed my family and friends in the States.

My encounter with the American-Irish pair is emblematic of something I’ve experienced throughout my time here in Dublin: an undeserved and extremely generous kindness. This, combined with the stunning beauty of the island, has made Dublin one of my favorite places in the world in just a few short months.

When I arrived in Dublin in August, I almost immediately fell in love with the city. From the colorful doors and small antique shops in the city center, to the beautiful cliffs of Howth and the seaside cafes in Blackrock, Dublin’s beauty is undeniable. From what I’ve seen of Northern Ireland in Belfast, Derry, and Donegal, the country has an impressive natural beauty. For a few weeks in September, we were also blessed with some very sunny and dry weather. This helped me to adjust to the climate from my summer spent in the very hot Las Vegas desert.

But while I adjusted to the city quite quickly, it took more time for me to build connections with people living here. I have always struggled to build community in times of transition, and was nervous that my time here would be marked by loneliness. Yet encounters like those I had in the coffee shop quickly diminished my fears. My conversations with the lively couple were just some of many random meetings I’d have with extremely kind people throughout the city. These people, ultimately, are what have made Dublin one of my favorite places in the world. I’ve met people in Howth who offered to help me in times of crisis, I’ve met students curious about how American football works, and I’ve met women in pilates classes also learning to navigate Dublin in their 20s. And of course, the Mitchells have become my home base. They are absolutely wonderful people, and I’m so excited we get to experience this year together!

In addition to making friends, however, I am here to learn. I feel immensely fortunate to have been introduced to people working in industry, civil society, and government to ensure Europeans have safe and positive experiences in digital spaces. Learning from the expertise of people from the Irish Data Protection Commission (the lead enforcer of the EU’s General Data Protection Regulation), Reddit, the Irish Council for Civil Liberties, and Digital Rights Ireland, I feel extraordinarily thankful that these people are willing to spare some of their time to talk with me about their work. Perhaps what I’ve been most impressed with surrounding my encounters with these experts has been the way in which they treat me as their equal (I am by no means their equal). Curious about my beliefs, experiences, and expertise, they have engaged in conversation with me as if I could teach them something meaningful, when I only thought I could learn from them. These interactions have given me confidence in my own ability to take on challenges in the digital space, and I’m grateful to them for it.

All in all, I feel so lucky to be in a place like this, and grateful to the Mitchell Scholarship for making it possible. I’m looking forward to many more adventures over the next several months!

Of all the many pieces of advice I received before moving to Ireland, the most common refrain involved weather: be prepared for rain. So perhaps it was preordained that when I arrived in Limerick, on a gray, brooding afternoon in early September, it would be amid a proper Irish downpour.

Still in a bit of a daze after overnight travel and two flight transfers, I hauled my two hulking black suitcases off the bus and lurched into my taxi. My driver, Philip, a chipper man in his 60s, greeted me with a friendliness and curiosity that I would soon recognize as characteristic of many Irish people. Over the next twenty minutes, he peppered me with questions and proceeded to give me a tour of the University of Limerick’s campus, jabbing a finger at various buildings and explaining to me the quickest way to navigate from dorm to classroom. I remember being awed by the beauty of the campus: the lush, expansive lawns, the forest that lined the roads and intermingled with university buildings, or the “living bridge” that arched over the river Shannon.

In the two months since that taxi ride, that initial wonder has remained, but it has also evolved into something more domestic — an appreciation for small moments of beauty and for the pockets of campus that have become familiar, like the ten minute walk along the wooded trail that snakes between my apartment and the gym, or the cotton-candy sunsets I’ve taken in from my balcony.

I’ve also ventured further afield in search of Ireland’s natural beauty. Limerick is a gateway to the Wild Atlantic Way, and many bus tours begin at my campus, allowing me to easily travel to some of the country’s most scenic spots. I’ve climbed in a rusty shipwreck on one of the Arran Islands and watched waves thrash the cliffs of Moher. At Killarney National Park, I caught a glimpse of Ireland’s elusive red deer, and at Muckross Abbey, I admired a 400-year-old yew tree. Our tour guide shared a local legend: they say that touching the tree gifts you greater artistic creativity, causing many writers to journey to the abbey in search of inspiration.

Like all myths, this one is probably rooted in truth. Art, creativity, clear thinking, self-knowledge — all such things flourish when nurtured by silence and space, two commodities that become more plentiful with proximity to natural beauty and are increasingly scarce in our frenzied, urban lives.

I felt that scarcity last year when living and working in Manhattan as a journalist. I love New York and its people; I hope to return after this year. Still, there was something about the city’s unrelenting pace, sheer noisiness and constant professional and social demands on my time that cannibalized my attention and scattered my thoughts. In a city of many extraordinary luxuries, silence and solitude were the two that felt most out of reach.

Not so in Limerick. Now, when I look out my window, instead of seeing a stream of honking taxis on First Ave, I see trees, flush with their fall foliage, and a field that flows into the Shannon. I have space to think more deeply about myself and my place in the world.

And, of course, I’ve had many more rainy days since that first one when I stepped bleary-eyed off my bus; on those days, I’ll look out this window, a book in hand, and watch the storms come and go. If I’m patient, I’ll often glimpse a rainbow as well. Occasionally — call it the luck of the Irish — I’ll even see two.

I’m writing this just after getting back home from Mitchells group trip to Derry. It’s been a thought-provoking few days, with a range of themes and moods. We went up mainly to participate in Derry’s Halloween festival, which, with the >45,000 people it draws, is the largest Halloween event in Europe. While the ghoulish festivities related to the 3-day long affair were a big part of our experience, we were also fortunate enough to explore the North Coast, making stops at Giant’s Causeway, Ballycastle, and some Donegal beaches. We also were able to learn more about the history of Ireland from museums such as the Museum of Free Derry and the Siege Museum. Most of all, though, we were so lucky to engage in conversation with locals who have lived through instrumental years of change. Michael, a Derry local who was showing us around the North Coast, grew up during the Troubles and spoke with us transparently and honestly about the dynamics in his hometown. While divides are still apparent, he said, there is much more open discourse between both sides of the conflict about the future of the city as a place where both populations thrive. It requires acknowledging the past, but it also requires a willingness to accept that wrongdoings that have happened in the past cannot be undone, and that healing comes from looking forward.

Overall, I have noticed a general culture of inclusion and forward-facing amongst the Dubliners whom I’ve met. Despite only having been here for two months, I’ve had several run-ins with Dubliners who have gone out of their way to help me out. Just the other day, I was visiting the Irish Museum of Modern Art and wasn’t able to finish viewing a few wings. A museum guard then offered to unlock the Baroque Chapel, one of the Museum’s wings, and ended up walking me and my friend through the Chapel’s history, up to the restorations done in the past few years, including a fantastic papier-mâché reconstruction of the ornate baroque ceiling. Another time, a young woman who was on the same late-night flight as I offered to give me a lift back to the center of the city, where she was also headed. We ended up stopping at McDonalds and chatting for an hour—and realizing that we live quite close to each other! Since this serendipitous meeting, we’ve stayed in touch. These are just two examples of some of the everyday kindnesses I’ve experienced, actions whose generosity I never would have expected, given the general “stranger danger” mentality in Japan and the US. This generosity is apparent everywhere I look, from a Dunnes store clerk going out of his way to swap out a shopper’s bag of potatoes for a fresher set, or strangers readily giving up their seats so families can sit together on the Luas. I wonder how this sense of community and solidarity can be cultivated in other cities, and because my field of study here at Trinity College is urban- and energy-system planning, these reflections are shaping how I’m defining and measuring the improvement of public infrastructure to include these intangible aspects of urban life.

At Trinity, I can’t help but notice how vibrant the culture surrounding student organizations are—there are several clubs holding educational meetings, guest lectures, debates, relaxed socials, or pub crawls every day of the week, and it seems that every event is buzzing with club members. I myself followed suit and signed up for several clubs, including the Sub-Aqua Club, which organizes scuba dive training and trips around the island, the Harriers and Track Club (the term here for cross country running, which took me a while to realize), the Visual Arts Society, which hosts tours of exhibitions and art workshops, and the Hiking Society!

It’s wonderful meeting so many students who are all equally eager to lean into life in Dublin. Most weekends start with my idea of perfection, a destination run with some friends to/around various smaller towns just outside of Dublin, after which we’ll walk around a farmer’s market, explore some local businesses, and maybe even check out a museum. I’ve been able to visit Howth, Dún Laoghaire, Bray/Greystones, Rathmines, and Castleknock this way. A highlight was visiting the James Joyce Museum at the Martello Tower in Dún Laoghaire with a few other Mitchells and nerd out together over being in the room where Buck Mulligan and Daedalus start their morning in Telemachus. I’m planning to make it up to Malahide to run along the beautiful coastline and visit Malahide Castle next!

My semifinalist interview for the Mitchell Scholarship took place on October 30, 2023, less than a month after the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas War. Unsurprisingly, the conflict was one of the topics we discussed. Given the political context of the United States, I voiced my surprise at the widespread support Palestinians had received from Irish civilians and, to some extent, government officials. I recall making an offhand comment about the potential affinities between two peoples who had historically been subject to violent dispossession of land and life at the hands a powerful neighboring state.

Since arriving in Belfast nearly two months ago, I have come to see how much I underestimated the salience of the Israel-Palestine conflict on the island. To take a walk down Falls Road is to realize that, in the minds of many Irish people, it is not merely that there exists a symbolic link between Ireland and Palestine; rather, as they see it, Palestine is the most important theater in an ongoing global struggle against modern-day imperialism.

This perspective enjoys enough support that pro-Palestinian discourse is now even part of the academic mainstream in Belfast. Queen’s University regularly hosts pro-Palestine events and lectures, including, most recently, a multi-day conference. At the opening panel, the theme of which was finding a “roadmap to liberation,” speakers inveighed not only against Israel, but also against the United States government for perceived inaction and complicity in tens of thousands of needless deaths. It’s fair to say that such an event would be more or less unimaginable at most U.S. universities.

Of course, Belfast is not unified in its stance. Turn off the Falls toward the Shankhill, and you’ll be greeted by a large portrait of Benjamin Netanyahu and an endless display of Israeli flags. In March of this year, Jane Ohlmeyer, a history professor at Trinity College Dublin, stated that “there can be a tendency — and we see this, for example, in the street murals in Belfast — to see the conflict through the prism of Northern Ireland, where republican nationalists sympathize with Palestine and loyalists, unionists with Israel.” I wonder if it might be more accurate, or at least equally so, to invert the formulation. Perhaps it is Israel-Palestine that is the prism for sectarian divisions in Belfast—divisions which bubble under the surface in search of new outlets, less visible since the peace process but keenly felt by locals in a way they cannot be by an outsider.