Yesterday I vented my frustration.
“Stop reading,” was the well-meaning advice from friends who care.
But I can’t. I can’t stop reading. I can’t stop watching. As I told my beautiful concerned friends, I feel like I owe it to the people whose lives have been stolen by the sheer stupidity of the human race.
Yes, the news is particularly confronting and distressing at the moment. But so are people’s lives.
If we look away from the stories and images showing us the horror and devastation some of our fellow humans are enduring are we also choosing to censor their pain? Push away their shocking reality from our sheltered and randomly fortunate lives?
Let me be clear, I do not support media outlets that exploit grief and gruesome images for clicks and circulation. Nor do I condone harassing people who clearly want and need their privacy. But I do think there is fine line between this exploitation and the genuine need to tell a distressing and uncomfortable story. Especially when that person wants their story to be told.
Yesterday morning I saw a stream of online chatter debating whether the parents of those three beautiful young Australian children and their grandfather, whose lives were stolen on MH17, did the right thing when they made a public appearance at what would have been their son’s football match.
Such harrowing images were published of them both, being held up by their friends as they battled a depth of despair too harrowing for words to describe.
“It was too raw,” said some.
“It was too soon,” said others.
“I think I would grieve in private,” decided others.
Not me. God forbid, if this kind of senseless horror stole any members of my family I think I would open the door to my grief and shout my story to the world.
Look at what happened to me. Look at how my life has been destroyed. See my pain. Feel my pain. This didn’t have to happen, but it did. See what we are failing to address as a civilization? Don’t ignore my pain because you are afraid it may hurt you, shock you, upset you. Respect my pain by feeling it with me. Respect my pain by calling for change.
So I’m afraid I can’t stop reading. I won’t stop reading.
Because if I do I feel like I am walking away from the people who need help. The people with such terrible stories that really must be told.
Maria Tedeschi says
July 22, 2014 at 9:03 pmOh my God, YES! We cannot stop reading. No matter how much it hurts. We need to be aware of the world we live in. I feel exactly the same way. Even though I can get frustrated and disillusioned we simply must read these stories and acknowledge what is going on. If the worst thing that can happen to us today is read about somebody else’s grief then that is a small price to pay.
Love & stuff
Mrs M
Kelly Exeter says
July 22, 2014 at 9:12 pmPeople were criticising the Maslins for going to that footy game? What the actual?
Speaking from the experience of having parents who have lost a child, that was an incredibly brave thing for them to do and the media should have left them to it … they clearly don’t want anything to do with the media while they grieve and the ‘harrowing’ pictures of them at that footy game should never have even been published.
Lisa Lintern says
July 22, 2014 at 9:24 pmAnd their children should never have been shot down in that plane.
Janine says
July 23, 2014 at 5:10 pmNobody has a right to judge how anyone grieves. It easy to have an opinion when you (luckily) have not had the experience. In actual fact NOBODY knows what they would do in tragic circumstances. I don’t believe there is a “too soon” or wrong approach. I think the families should be allowed to grieve in whatever way works for them, for some telling their story or being surrounded by friends will be what they need, for others it won’t. In their own way, in their own time, without the judgement of others is what they need as they deal with unimaginable horror.