Happy St. Patrick’s Day

I love banshees. I have nothing to add. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Just kidding, I’ll tell you why I love banshees.

Banshees, for those of you who don’t know, are a mythological creature from Irish folklore. Well…mythological maybe. I have it on good authority from an Irishman that they are indeed real. (The same Irishman who requested I bring a comb so that we could take that picture you just saw. When an Irishman asks you to be even more banshee than originally planned, you don’t say no.) Believe what you will about whether or not banshees are real. I believe they are, but that’s not actually why I like them so much.

In traditional legend a banshee will appear to unleash her keening wail the night before a family member dies. But she doesn’t appear for just any family. A banshee is reserved for specific families, typically those who are descended from the original Gaels of Ireland. Some legends state that this is because the banshee is the spirit of a woman from this ancestral line, usually a woman who died tragically young. In this instance their wail is one of mourning for their family’s coming loss. Other tales attribute the banshee as being one of the fair folk (in Irish bean sí means “woman of the fairy mound”), whose job it is to warn someone that the situation they’re entering may lead to death. Like any legend there are at least a dozen more origin stories for the banshee from various countries. Take your pick.

But why do I love banshees?

They’re loud.

That’s it.

They scream very, very loudly and I can relate to that.

Well, okay, maybe it’s also because they’re Irish and so are some of my ancestors. There’s a certain appeal there to think that someone deep, deep in my ancestry once saw a banshee (or perhaps even became one).

And, all right, I like their physical appearance too.

I lifted this description straight from Wikipedia:

“Sometimes she has long streaming hair, which she may be seen combing, with some legends specifying she can only keen while combing her hair. She wears a grey cloak over a green dress, and her eyes are red from continual weeping. She may be dressed in white with red hair and a ghastly complexion…”

That aesthetic? Impeccable.

But mainly, it’s the screaming thing. Seriously. I’ve always been a loud person and if there’s any supernatural creature I am best suited to become, it’s the one that is most known for screaming at the top of their lungs.

I’ve always loved banshees, ever since I was introduced to them in that one episode of Charmed. The wail, the aesthetic, the Irishness. It speaks to me. There’s also something about being a harbinger of doom that my dark little soul finds very appealing.

I’d do well at being a traditional banshee, but I’d really excel at being the more monstrous version found in modern day depictions.

Banshees, like many myths, legends, and assorted folk tales, have been integrated into the pop culture lexicon. Like anything that people have taken and written fiction about, the legend has been modified. Rarely are banshees depicted as tied to one family, although they are often still early warning systems for death. The “fairy” origin is usually dropped in favor of a more ghostly aspect. This alteration contributes to many versions favoring white or silver hair, with red hair as runner-up. Most fun of all, modern-fiction banshees frequently get a power-up. Their scream is a sonic weapon, capable of piercing ears or shattering glass or knocking people down. Some can even fly. And most deliciously of all, sometimes hearing the screech of a banshee will kill you directly.

When I donned the costume you see pictured here, someone said, “Look at you. You look like you just came in fresh off the moors.” Which. Yes. Please. Sign me up. Please.

Please let me fly over the moors unleashing a blood-curdling scream that terrifies all unfortunate enough to hear it.

Ahem.

So, that’s why I like banshees. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

If you hear unholy screaming in the middle of the night, I promise it’s not me.