Bill O'Reilly, Who Are We?
Written by: David DeRose
“With
Malice towards none,With
charity for all,With firmness
in the right as God gives us the right,Let us
finish the work we are in,To bind up
the nation’s wounds,To care for
him who shall have born the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace amongst ourselves and with all nations.”
– Abe Lincoln 2nd Inaugural
Address March 4, 1865
Love one
another like family does.
Pure
hearts; uncompromising.
Not as
insolent children with grudges.
In contrast,
Bill
O'Reilly rages at the black community for fatalities and drugs.
Condemning
Russell Simmons like a Victorian judge,
Slamming remarks
like a gavel.
"Why
don't you protest black violence?!?" O’Reilly exclaims.
“You weren’t
there!” he accuses,
Verbs conveying verdicts - guilty.
His verdict for the black community.
I’m not mad
at him.
I just
think he is blind.
Blind to the fact that it is our shared verdict.
Why
isn't HE protesting black violence?
How is he
helping the situation that he so clearly diagnosed?
Who is
he to judge?
How is this
“their” fault?
Instead
of pelting Russell Simmons with guilty sentences,
Lift him up
with positive sentences,
Stop
berating and start contemplating.
O’Reilly
gains nothing pointing fingers.
His return
on investment is perpetuating polarization.
He would do
more with hugs.
Embracing
the reality that "Their success is our success!”
- Nelson Mandela.
As
people, we are connected.
Not some
western caste system.
Designed
for social cohesion.
Organizing and categorizing foreshadows already foreseen futures.
Only
when there is chaos are things made clear.
This
isn’t work for diverse populations but in homogeneous organizations.
We are here together and...
“A
house divided against itself cannot stand.”
Realize,
institutions and individuals are imperfect,
But as
people we are perfect.
So how can Bill O’Reilly, and other like him,
actually help?
The answer is nothing new; love.
Love
each other,
As family
loves.
As Jesus
loves.
Love is not expressed with shouts and screams of blame.
But rather, shared
in a whisper.
Hardly escaping
lips audibly.
Intimate, warm,
honest.
It’s the
kind of love that asks tough questions,
And listens
to authentic answers.
When heartbreak
happens,
Love answers.
Love empathizes,
hurts, and feels.
Then love acts; uncompromising.
Love is not
an option, choice, or decision.
It is a duty.
To love is to feel pain.
To ignore
pain is to authorize it.
Signing the dotted line with tears of mothers burying babies.
There is a
deep pain that the white community needs to acknowledge,
The despair our black and brown brothers and sisters.
This pain
has been sanctioned ignorance
And discounted
by the blindness of white privilege for far too long.
To be fair,
Maybe not
every-one knew this pain existed.
Perfectly exemplifying
the privilege they possess.
But now
they do.
The pain has been exposed.
The cries have been heard.
No longer shall we turn a deaf ear and blind privileged eye.
Time to
listen to the pain.
Time to
share the pain.
Time to act
to fix the pain.
Pain is transformative.
Love and
pain are parents to chaos.
Total loss of control.
Only chaos
makes things clear.
Like a machete cutting through thickets of ignorance.
Step back, gestalt.
Whole
lives have been lived and been devoted to causes
For me to
observe and experience to obtain this realization.
I have seen, heard, and felt their struggle.
Impacted by countless lives,
Some known and others whose existence I will
forever be unaware.
A river shaping rocks
over time.
Direct impacts – stone to
stone collisions – rattling my core
Unseen forces; weather, temperature, and snow-melt upstream
Shape my present perception
of reality.
How many of these lives
where white folks?
Black folks?
Native folks?
All cosmically connected
By an unquantifiable extent
of happenstance.
Regardless of their race,
Over the millennia,
Countless individuals
have lifted me up.
Regardless of my race.
My face.
My features.
They gave pace!
Like divine preachers.
Unknowingly illuminating my
path with truth.
No judge or jury just fury.
Risking everything,
Attempting to move mountains.
Am I doing the same?
Are you, Bill O’Reilly?
Now you tell me, who are we?