by Claire JC
“I’m NORTHERN Irish”, I would say with indignation, every time an English person referred to me as Irish. Growing up in Newtownards in the 1990s there was never any question of my Britishness. British passport, Union Jacks on every lamppost, and fully immersed in British pop culture.
But having moved to London in 2002 for my last year of school and then staying on for university, I quickly became used to English people casually and unintentionally causing offence, referring to me as the very thing I had spent a lifetime being taught to reject. I trotted out the same old lines about partition, about the difference between Britain and the UK, only to be met with blank stares. “How can you be British if you’re from Ireland?” became the predictable response. After a few years I gave up trying to educate them and allowed people to call me Irish, slowly began referring to myself as Irish (more out of laziness than any sort of existential awakening), and so started a long shift in identity which in 2026 now has me admitting that I am, for all intents and purposes, an Irish Republican. This did not happen overnight, but my journey allows me to have sympathy with people on the entire spectrum, from staunch unionist to staunch nationalist. I have sat at every point on that spectrum over the last 23 years.
Fast forward to July 2025, I had been back in Belfast for 4 years and had grown tired with the “it’s just the way things are” approach to our dysfunctional government. I had spent almost 20 years in London and living in such a progressive, diverse and tolerant city shaped me. When I moved back to NI I was horrified with how little things had progressed, how thuggery governed and controlled Belfast, and how sectarianism was still alive and well so long after the peace process. I picked up my phone and had a rant about the apathy of people here, talking about the need for dialogue if we ever wanted a better future for our country, and posted the video on TikTok. It resonated with people. Certainly no virality but a great deal more engagement that I was expecting. So, I kept posting, making videos replying to people’s comments. My audience started to grow and I realised I wasn’t alone. A lot of people were fed up and frustrated, desperate for change, but completely disillusioned with our political systems. Plenty of people like me from PUL backgrounds who, as adults, realised they didn’t feel British in any way and who were questioning NI’s place in the union. At the time, I didn’t think there was anything unusual about discussing these things publicly. In London I was used to posting whatever I liked about politics on social media with absolute freedom, so I was confused when people told me to be careful or said I was ‘brave’. Once the threats started rolling in however I realised why people had told me to stay safe. Publicly questioning the status quo when you’re Protestant… well, that’s not the done thing.
The apathy made a little more sense, but I wasn’t deterred. I still felt that we would never be able to drag NI into the 21st century without having uncomfortable conversations so I carried on making content about politics, history, culture and identity. At 40 years old, I was noticing generational differences as well. People my age and older generally didn’t want to rock the boat, recognising how far we had come since the peace process and reluctant to do anything that could jeopardise that. Younger people, especially those born post-Belfast Agreement, were approaching things differently though. Fuelled by an Irish cultural revival (an offensive term to a lot of people who have never stopped celebrating Irish culture, I recognise) they have embraced aspects of Irishness which my generation were told to vehemently ignore. Denying this shift feels like a dangerous approach.
Creating content led to attending events, which led to new contacts, and earlier this year Sinn Fein got in touch to invite me to their Ard Fheis. I had never been to a party conference before but was curious, so I accepted the invite with enthusiasm. I had a genuinely fantastic time and was made to feel incredibly welcome. The energy was contagious, I felt inspired by the strong female leaders, and I came away feeling a little better about the world knowing that so many people were on the same page as me. There was one problem, though.
As someone from a PUL background who was actively and intentionally trying to embrace an ‘Irish’ identity after identifying as British for nearly 40 years, and who was surely a Republican by way of a desire for a 32-county Ireland, being at the Sinn Fein Ard Fheis made me feel nothing like an Irish Republican. I was surrounded by people who came from a long line of freedom fighters, people who spoke Irish, who all seemed to know each other. People who would bleed green. The passion and the history were completely alien to me, and I felt somewhat deflated.
I talked about this on TikTok, hoping for some validation. Not only did I get that, but people suggested that I do something about it. We recognised that there is a gap that nationalist political parties in NI struggle to fill. Where does the recovering unionist go? The progressive Protestant? Sinn Fein or the SDLP make sense from an Irish unity perspective but being a first-generation Irish Republican feels at times like wearing a costume that doesn’t quite fit. We need a space where people can discuss the unique situation we find ourselves in, questioning everything we were taught growing up.
That is why I’m starting a group. A politics-adjacent, Protestant-led, Irish unity campaign group, primarily aimed at people like me from PUL backgrounds who have done an identity 180 and have nobody to talk to about it. However, everyone is welcome. NI is changing and we need to have frank, respectful, educated conversations away from the toxicity of tribal politics and mainstream social media. A safe, online community space for dialogue free from threats. Growing up in a PUL community is an almost cult-like experience and escaping its clutches can take time and empathy. I want everyone from the curious unionist to the committed Republican to contribute. I am left-wing and progressive in my views and while I don’t expect everyone in the group to share my position on all social issues, there will be a zero-tolerance policy for bigotry.
Discussing our place in the union and the potential for constitutional change doesn’t need to be divisive. It should be encouraged, in fact. Unionists have nothing to fear from Irish unity. Their rights are enshrined in law and any assertions that there would be a ‘return to the Troubles’ shows an ignorance of how the Troubles actually began (an ignorance which I too had been guilty of). Partition has failed Northern Ireland, but we have a once-in-a-generation opportunity to nurture the six counties into a welcoming, prosperous place. Let’s not waste it.
Claire is not on Twitter so TikTok is the best way to keep up to date on how the group is progressing @clairejc_official.
by Claire JC
“I’m NORTHERN Irish”, I would say with indignation, every time an English person referred to me as Irish. Growing up in Newtownards in the 1990s there was never any question of my Britishness. British passport, Union Jacks on every lamppost, and fully immersed in British pop culture.
But having moved to London in 2002 for my last year of school and then staying on for university, I quickly became used to English people casually and unintentionally causing offence, referring to me as the very thing I had spent a lifetime being taught to reject. I trotted out the same old lines about partition, about the difference between Britain and the UK, only to be met with blank stares. “How can you be British if you’re from Ireland?” became the predictable response. After a few years I gave up trying to educate them and allowed people to call me Irish, slowly began referring to myself as Irish (more out of laziness than any sort of existential awakening), and so started a long shift in identity which in 2026 now has me admitting that I am, for all intents and purposes, an Irish Republican. This did not happen overnight, but my journey allows me to have sympathy with people on the entire spectrum, from staunch unionist to staunch nationalist. I have sat at every point on that spectrum over the last 23 years.
Fast forward to July 2025, I had been back in Belfast for 4 years and had grown tired with the “it’s just the way things are” approach to our dysfunctional government. I had spent almost 20 years in London and living in such a progressive, diverse and tolerant city shaped me. When I moved back to NI I was horrified with how little things had progressed, how thuggery governed and controlled Belfast, and how sectarianism was still alive and well so long after the peace process. I picked up my phone and had a rant about the apathy of people here, talking about the need for dialogue if we ever wanted a better future for our country, and posted the video on TikTok. It resonated with people. Certainly no virality but a great deal more engagement that I was expecting. So, I kept posting, making videos replying to people’s comments. My audience started to grow and I realised I wasn’t alone. A lot of people were fed up and frustrated, desperate for change, but completely disillusioned with our political systems. Plenty of people like me from PUL backgrounds who, as adults, realised they didn’t feel British in any way and who were questioning NI’s place in the union. At the time, I didn’t think there was anything unusual about discussing these things publicly. In London I was used to posting whatever I liked about politics on social media with absolute freedom, so I was confused when people told me to be careful or said I was ‘brave’. Once the threats started rolling in however I realised why people had told me to stay safe. Publicly questioning the status quo when you’re Protestant… well, that’s not the done thing.
The apathy made a little more sense, but I wasn’t deterred. I still felt that we would never be able to drag NI into the 21st century without having uncomfortable conversations so I carried on making content about politics, history, culture and identity. At 40 years old, I was noticing generational differences as well. People my age and older generally didn’t want to rock the boat, recognising how far we had come since the peace process and reluctant to do anything that could jeopardise that. Younger people, especially those born post-Belfast Agreement, were approaching things differently though. Fuelled by an Irish cultural revival (an offensive term to a lot of people who have never stopped celebrating Irish culture, I recognise) they have embraced aspects of Irishness which my generation were told to vehemently ignore. Denying this shift feels like a dangerous approach.
Creating content led to attending events, which led to new contacts, and earlier this year Sinn Fein got in touch to invite me to their Ard Fheis. I had never been to a party conference before but was curious, so I accepted the invite with enthusiasm. I had a genuinely fantastic time and was made to feel incredibly welcome. The energy was contagious, I felt inspired by the strong female leaders, and I came away feeling a little better about the world knowing that so many people were on the same page as me. There was one problem, though.
As someone from a PUL background who was actively and intentionally trying to embrace an ‘Irish’ identity after identifying as British for nearly 40 years, and who was surely a Republican by way of a desire for a 32-county Ireland, being at the Sinn Fein Ard Fheis made me feel nothing like an Irish Republican. I was surrounded by people who came from a long line of freedom fighters, people who spoke Irish, who all seemed to know each other. People who would bleed green. The passion and the history were completely alien to me, and I felt somewhat deflated.
I talked about this on TikTok, hoping for some validation. Not only did I get that, but people suggested that I do something about it. We recognised that there is a gap that nationalist political parties in NI struggle to fill. Where does the recovering unionist go? The progressive Protestant? Sinn Fein or the SDLP make sense from an Irish unity perspective but being a first-generation Irish Republican feels at times like wearing a costume that doesn’t quite fit. We need a space where people can discuss the unique situation we find ourselves in, questioning everything we were taught growing up.
That is why I’m starting a group. A politics-adjacent, Protestant-led, Irish unity campaign group, primarily aimed at people like me from PUL backgrounds who have done an identity 180 and have nobody to talk to about it. However, everyone is welcome. NI is changing and we need to have frank, respectful, educated conversations away from the toxicity of tribal politics and mainstream social media. A safe, online community space for dialogue free from threats. Growing up in a PUL community is an almost cult-like experience and escaping its clutches can take time and empathy. I want everyone from the curious unionist to the committed Republican to contribute. I am left-wing and progressive in my views and while I don’t expect everyone in the group to share my position on all social issues, there will be a zero-tolerance policy for bigotry.
Discussing our place in the union and the potential for constitutional change doesn’t need to be divisive. It should be encouraged, in fact. Unionists have nothing to fear from Irish unity. Their rights are enshrined in law and any assertions that there would be a ‘return to the Troubles’ shows an ignorance of how the Troubles actually began (an ignorance which I too had been guilty of). Partition has failed Northern Ireland, but we have a once-in-a-generation opportunity to nurture the six counties into a welcoming, prosperous place. Let’s not waste it.
Claire is not on Twitter so TikTok is the best way to keep up to date on how the group is progressing @clairejc_official.