Nine years ago, I attended an Irish dance competition in the Houston area. I wore a black bodysuit with a skirt adorned with blue triquetras, the trinity knot, stitched at the end — a staple symbol of Irish history.
Studying abroad in Ireland means more to me than just an academic challenge. When I applied, I did so with the hope of growing my skills as a photojournalist and learning the ins and outs of adapting to a foreign society. But I also applied while reflecting on my seven years of competitive Irish dance.
I come from a very proud Irish-American family. We’re five generations in, but if you ask what ethnicity we identify with, the answer is always the same. We don’t eat lamb stew or corned beef for the “aesthetic”; St. Patrick’s Day isn’t the only day we wear green. Irish dancing was how I learned about my past, and when given the opportunity to touch grass in the Emerald Isle? Yeah, I put down my Xbox controller.
But Dublin, Ireland, itself houses more than just dancing and pub culture. When I arrived for my study abroad, there wasn’t that immediate click in my brain that said “this makes sense” or “this fits with who I am.” Every time I talked about traditions or cultural experiences with the locals, I wasn’t finding things that just fit into place. Each local I met, in one way or another, replied on the contrary.
Food? Not my food. Family? Not my family. Traditions? Not my traditions.
The more I talked, the less familiar I became with Ireland. Yet, in the same uncanny way, I was unlocking a new understanding of the culture. People had so many stories — like ones I’ve mentioned in a blog before. And with every conversation, my mouth ran a little faster than before.
You have to understand, the more they spoke, the more questions I had. And somewhere in the study abroad session, I forgot about my initial motivations — and honestly, thank God. Who knew I could talk that much? Or who knew I had enough courage to jump 10 feet into a sea-sized ice bath? Not me.
So, yeah, there wasn’t any dancing; there wasn’t a space to. And to those who say to just go to a pub — no, you haven’t been to Dublin. I hadn’t realized this before, but I’m seldom to admit I would’ve learned anything without actually living there.
But there was one time. On a Tuesday, the final night before our Maymester ended, a couple of my classmates came together. The idea of Irish dancing had been itching me a final time, and when I asked the shared chat, people liked it. So, on a mostly cloudless Tuesday night, a few of my peers met in a lit, cobblestone square in Dublin and learned how to Irish dance. It might’ve looked a little goofy; maybe it was a little unconventional, but this was the first time I could’ve combined those ideas: my life with my past.
I’ll be one of many to say that living abroad has an effect on you. I wouldn’t necessarily know what type of effect it is, but I know it’s dependent on you and how you wish to experience it.
Looking back, I danced with memories of my ancestral past. But it was for the celebration of what I came from — not necessarily who I was. It’s very easy to get your identity caught up with the places you want to visit. But respectfully, it’s when you actually get there and live among its people that you start to realize what the experience was meant for.
You’re here to learn about yourself. Each experience is fresh, and every reaction makes an impact on how you make the next. Certainly, sitting down and listening to the slow treble jig play through the strings of a fiddle can feel reminiscent — at least for me.
But memorizing the streets, walking new, winding routes to class, and working among students with whom I would eventually build deep relationships are how I navigated this new image of myself.
This blog was contributed by Amanda Morley, Global Ambassador for May 2026. Amanda is a Moody College of Communication senior participating in the faculty-led program “Documentary Photography Storytelling” in Dublin, Ireland.
