Breandán de Gallaí (53) is a dancer and choreographer, and a lecturer at UL. He started Irish dancing at the age of seven and became the lead dancer in Riverdance. Born in Gweedore, Co Donegal, he lives in Ranelagh, Dublin, and has co-directed a gender-swapping production of Federico García Lorca’s The House of Bernardó Alba in which he also stars.
What were you like growing up?
I’m the middle child of seven. I was painfully shy – my mother sent me to Irish dancing because I couldn’t even wear a different jumper to school in case people would look at me. I don’t think the shyness ever left me but I have the tools to deal with it now.
Why did you like Irish dancing?
It clicked right away, but I got teased and bullied a lot. Considering the onslaught of abuse, even my mother was shocked that I stuck with it. It worked with my body and dancing mattered to me. I probably seemed to be quite different from other people which was difficult. I didn’t realise it for a long time but being gay was probably the issue.
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What was it like in Gweedore?
It was very remote. As a teenager, I couldn’t wait to get away from it. I craved the anonymity of urban living, so I went to Chicago on a dance scholarship.
Who inspires you and why?
The Icelandic singer Björk can make the mundane spectacularly poetic.
Best advice you were given?
I heard a lot of bad advice, so I’ve learned not to listen to it.
Best advice you give?
Believe in what you are doing.
What drives you?
My dance company, Ériu and the people in it.
Tell us about your nine years as a Riverdance principal dancer.
We had an incredible time doing it. When I finished up, I had bought a house and I would never have been able to do that without Riverdance. We had a very enriching time – travelling to countries with different languages and different currencies – China, Japan and all of Europe. There were times when it was lonely and you felt quite isolated. You craved doing ordinary things like making your own breakfast instead of being in a hotel. But I had some really exciting rock ‘n roll times as well and I don’t regret them at all.
And you’re still dancing…
A few years ago, I did a piece with a younger dancer – a show called Linger – and it forced me to return to dancing. It was about sexuality and ageing. Then I realised, maybe you can keep going. You just have to temper the amount of work and how you do it. Yes, I have a gammy knee but I’m still very competitive and I still want to be as good as a young one. I play the lead in our new show.
How have you coped with grief?
My partner Declan English died two years ago. I had to do things to survive and being busy is one of them. That’s why for the first time in my life, in my 50s, I have taken on a 9-to-5 job in UL. We were together 16 years and the honeymoon period never, ever ended. He was a photographer and so supportive in my work. I was so fortunate to have him. After his heart operation, there were complications. Since his death, I’ve had to get on with things. You anaesthetise your reality with busyness, whatever it takes not to hurt so much constantly.
What’s your experience of being gay in Ireland now?
When people say, "Ah sure, you’re grand now you’ve got marriage equality,” I feel like punching them because there’s still a lot of hate out there. Read the newspapers. That trauma you experienced as a young person is inscribed on your body. You hear a scream on the street and immediately think a gay slur is being screamed at you, even when that person has nothing to do with you. It stays with you.
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What do you do for laughs?
I love going out for pints – good conversation and a laugh. After Declan passed away, I joined Crossfit and now I hang out with my Crossfit pals. God only knows why they’ve latched on to me because I’m the daddy figure but I have a lot of fun with them now.
’The House of Bernardó Alba’ takes place on May 5 and 6, at Town Hall Theatre Galway; galwaytheatrefestival.com
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