Patty is What Goes on Your Burger

FYI it’s “St. Paddy’s” Day

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Every year

I find myself wanting to correct everyone that says/spells “St. Patty’s”. Here’s a quick origin story behind why it’s Paddy. And no, it’s not because I want the holiday all to myself (my college friends call me Paddy!).

“Paddy” comes from the Irish name Pádraig (the Irish form of Patrick), which is traditionally shortened to “Paddy.” “Patty,” on the other hand, is usually short for Patricia or refers a burger patty. So for St. Patrick’s Day, using “Paddy” reflects the correct cultural spelling.

But, that is not the reason for this post.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my Irish heritage and my family’s story in the United States. I’m a fourth-generation immigrant from Ireland. I recently received my DNA results and came to find out I am only 70% Irish. My dad is almost entirely Irish at 99.7%, so I am a bit bummed I am not more Irish! Apparently, my sister is 80%. Crazy how that works!

It’s always been known to me that the Irish people and my ancestors were not treated the same as other people. And my family is very proud to be Irish Catholics. I reflect back on my grandfather’s sign in his office, “No Irish Need Apply” as a reminder of where we came from and what was overcome.

The Irish came from a history of intense colonization, starvation, and oppression under British rule, only to face further marginalization in the United States.

What U.S. history often doesn’t teach is that my ancestors didn’t simply starve during the Great Famine. They suffered under British policies that worsened starvation and forced millions from Ireland. This history of colonization is often simplified, in part because confronting it would also require acknowledging the United States’ own legacy as a colonizing power.

The blight (a plant disease) did destroy the potato crop, but Ireland was still producing plenty of other food: grain, livestock, butter. The issue wasn’t total food absence. It was who had access to it. The British exported all of the goods and only let the people of Ireland eat the potatoes. While millions of Irish people were starving, food was still being exported out of Ireland to Britain. Under British rule, much of the best land was owned by landlords (often English or Anglo-Irish). Irish tenant farmers were pushed onto smaller plots, where potatoes became the only viable subsistence crop. So, when the blight hit, there was no backup.

The Great Famine is often taught as a simple crop failure, but that’s the fallacy. Ireland didn’t lack food; it lacked access. While people starved, food was exported, tenants were evicted, and relief was shaped by policies that prioritized laissez-faire economics over human life. What my history teachers called a ‘famine’ was actually a crisis made far worse by colonial rule.

And when the Irish arrived in America, they weren’t immediately accepted into “whiteness.” They were poor, Catholic, and heavily discriminated against. We were excluded from jobs, housing, and political power.

Anti-Irish sentiment in the 19th century showed up across media, politics, religion, and everyday life.  Irish Catholics were viewed with deep suspicion in a largely Protestant country. They were seen as loyal to the Pope rather than the United States. They lacked the resources to build churches and schools.

Newspapers and cartoons often depicted Irish immigrants as ape-like or animalistic, violent, drunk, unintelligent, and a threat to American society.

Beyond “No Irish Need Apply,” there were informal hiring bans, segregated, overcrowded neighborhoods, and exploitation in the lowest-paid, most dangerous jobs.

Yet, Irish communities fought back.

Irish communities gradually built parish schools and churches, which relied on strong local networks and fundraising. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, they had established robust Catholic educational systems in cities across the U.S.

St. Patrick’s Day itself actually grew in the United States as Irish immigrants used for political protest, to celebrate their identity, resist assimilation, and assert pride in a society that marginalized them. What started as cultural and political expression eventually morphed into the celebration we know today.

Being now a fourth-generation Bostonian, I am filled with great to be an Irish Catholic. My grandfather’s group in Brighton, just a few streets from Boston College. He attended Catholic schools. The same Catholic schools that were fought so hard to be put in place. Reflecting on this history, I feel proud to be Irish Catholic, and grateful for the generations that made it possible for me to claim my heritage boldly and proudly, here in Boston.

Photos from my last 5 years of St. Patrick's Days in Boston:

Sláinte!

With gratitude,

Olivia