Mary Kenny‘the nastiness of the world cannot be magicked away’, writes Mary Kenny
A few years ago, a very successful writer dropped me a note to say she was grateful for something positive I had written about her. She had been at a low point, and had been depressed by a series of circumstances.
“We can all be so vulnerable to feelings about self-worth – however independent we are, we can still be cast down by the opinions of others. Our little vanities are so easily pricked,” she wrote.
This woman was normally confident – and highly successful – but she had an insight into what she called “our little vanities”, and how easily we can lose faith in ourselves. Yes, factor in the artistic temperament, which is often volatile.
But if a mature woman of the world can have these anxious feelings, how much more acute they must be among young teenagers – who are, anyway, at the mercy of the moods of developing hormones. How tragic it is that youngsters such as 15-year-old Ciara Pugsley from Leitrim, 13-year-old Erin Gallagher from Donegal and 17-year-old Darren Hughes-Gibson from Dublin took their own lives because they had received nasty or threatening messages via social media sites.
And yet, in a way, how understandable that a bewildered adolescent would believe nasty texts, usually anonymous. We can all be cast down by the opinions of others.
The solution, however, is not to ban social media sites: the nastiness of the world cannot be magicked away. Long before social media, there were anonymous poison pen letters, and other forms of insidious bullying. The answer, it seems to me, is to help young people to be more resistant.
I am so grateful that our formation – which was somewhat pre-Vatican II – did emphasise that life could be “a valley of tears”: that we would face suffering: that “carrying the Cross” would be a part of our experience.
Exuberant
Young people are often naturally optimistic and exuberant, but for their own protection, they should also be taught that life can be tough, sometimes brutal, and that self-worth comes from within – not from what some mean person says on social media.
We are probably kinder and nicer to children growing up than ever before: and so we should be. But we must explain that it’s not all cakes and ale, and we need our inner, spiritual resources to give us the fortitude to sustain hope.
Upholding some biological facts
The tradition of “cross-dressing” (travestie) is very old in the history of the theatre – it was common in the 16th Century Italian Commedia dell’Arte, on which much European theatre is based. (And these strolling players often performed on the steps of cathedrals.)
So Rory O’Neill presenting himself as Panti Bliss (pictured) is in a long tradition of show business, whose outreach spans from Jimmy O’Dea as the pantomime dame to Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in the hilarious Some Like it Hot – perhaps the most accomplished example of cross-dressing.
However, when reporters refer to Rory O’Neill as “she”, they are surely, themselves, crossing the line between costume and chromosomes. It was reported that “she” was happy to be one of the People of the Year. I would say congratulations to him. Mr O’Neill is a male. He is equipped with male chromosomes, which is what defines sex. It is anti-scientific and anti-truth to imply otherwise.
There is a deliberate campaign to promote the notion that sex is a “choice”. It is not. You are born either with XY chromosomes (male) or XX chromosomes (female). An exceptionally small minority have a chromosome abnormality – but it’s so unusual that most people have never encountered it.
You may paint your face an inch deep, as Hamlet says, but your chromosomes remain unaffected. We must uphold biological facts.
Queen Fabiola of the Belgians
It was considered a little unusual when, in June 1961, Pope John XXIII announced publicly during a visit to the Vatican by the-then Belgian monarchs that Queen Fabiola (pictured) of the Belgians was expecting a baby. Alas, two weeks later she miscarried.
Queen Fabiola – who has just died, aged 86 – lost another baby through stillbirth, then had a further miscarriage, and yet another baby died in the womb. This was a great sadness to Fabiola and her husband Baudouin, but they came to accept their loss and dedicated themselves to the nation’s children.
Baudouin himself abdicated for a day rather than give his signature to a Belgian abortion law. It was a principle deepened by personal experience.
John XXIII no doubt felt it was a joyful opportunity to impart the happy news of a royal pregnancy: but any obstetrics doctor could have told him that the first three months of any pregnancy can be uncertain. Our mothers and grandmothers would never make explicit preparations for a baby’s arrival until the baby seemed safely established in utero.