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In Belfast, the provincial capital, rainbows, smiling old men, tweed coats, stone fences, and a jubilant lifestyle can be as much a myth as the leprechaun. I heard rebel songs sung at funerals, found propagandist murals looming over streets, and witnessed politically charged bonfires roaring on symbolic holidays.
The real struggle for equality can only begin after peace. Consciously continuing a war can inadvertently make one’s own self the oppressor. The story of the Protestant Loyalists, although mentioned and studied, often lacked a thorough, detailed and humanizing approach. This essay, my first serious long-term project, is a record of daily life in the urban and rural Loyalist regions of Northern Ireland – their ways, beliefs, hopes and struggles.