It’s so Easy to Hate on People

It’s so Easy to Hate on People

Commentary by: Bill the Butcher

It’s so easy to hate on people, especially when they don’t look like you. Look at the picture below. There’s a message there. The colonial style homes at Martha’s Vineyard. The promise of a good life. Sea and sand. Blue skies. Opportunity. Now look at the woman. You’re not welcome. You are not one of us. Your dreams don’t matter. You’re not a person. All you heard about America . . . was a lie!

During the Red Pill show several nights ago I received an epiphany. And this picture cemented it. America is the land of immigrants. People came here when they were fed up with there. All the media about Queen Elizabeth going around right now, while I admire her life, the fact remains that she was royal because one of her ancestors chopped somebody’s head off to become royal and she was not chosen by the people!

And a bunch of religious nuts got on what amounted to a bass boat and sailed to God knows where so they could eat a deer without getting their heads chopped off. God Bless ‘Murika!” And as soon as they ran off the rightful owners of the deed to the promised land they put a lock on the gates at Ellis Island so fewer and fewer could make that journey. The simple fact of the matter is if you don’t have a feather in your hair, you ain’t from here!

Look! We all know that vetting people wishing to gain entry to the United States is important. And we all understand that there are characters south of the border who are nefarious. But there are volumes of others who peer over that border and dream of a better life. A life without cartels, with work at any wage, with safety in their homes and with assimilation into the culture while remembering and respecting their origins. And they are not much different from those people braving the Atlantic so many years ago!

When the question of immigration becomes politicized it becomes impersonal. It conjures images of the Frito Bandito, or El Chappo, but look at this lady. Standing there with her face in her hands, in front of the welcome sign to one of the most exclusive places in the country. Where centuries before indigenous people cooked fish over an open fire. The dichotomy is electric. Now imagine she’s white!

Did you ever notice that we don’t get as messed up about John Lennon moving to New York as we do about Maria de Lopez Gonzales moving to Laredo? Why? Is she less human that the Beatle? John wouldn’t think so. I find it amazing that liberals who are so quick to point at racism in every aspect of American Society from traffic stops to the color of chocolate milk completely miss it staring them in the face down at the Rio Grandé!

And the logic applied is south of flawed. They’ll take jobs away from Americans? Really? If Pablo takes your job you have a messed up job! How many cabbages have you picked this week Archibald? As the world economy collapses, how can you fault someone trying to dodge the falling bricks?

She’s not an invading army, no matter what politicians may tell you. She’s a daughter, a sister, a wife, mother or maybe just a housekeeper looking for work. A stranger in a strange land, far from home who doesn’t speak the language, and sees the glaring eyes accusing her. It’s so easy to hate on people.

But, she doesn’t hate on you. Even though you didn’t hold out your hands to her, she held her hands out to you. You didn’t take her hands. You believed the words of politicians who retreated to Acapulco during the brutal winter of ‘22 in Texas, where she, and others like her served them Pinã Coladas, and wished they could go back with Senator Cruz. Good Irish name there, by the way.

Don’t hate on Maria. Hate on the politicians who put her in front of that sign. Not the ones who put her on the bus. The ones who created the need for that bus. The ones who were more than happy to open the border, and then lay the cost on the states who must deal with the influx. The governors of so called sanctuary cities or states that provide lip service to welcoming any and all people spilling over the border by the millions and then, when a thousand show up in Chicago, they put them right back on a bus to send them anywhere but there! As long as Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona are footing the bill everything is just fine, but the minute Maria steps off a bus in Martha’s Vineyard it becomes a Donkey of a different color. And Maria and We The People become pawns in a political chess match.

There is no border crises. There’s a understanding crises. We don’t understand that there is no America, isolated in the middle of the North American Continent. There are three Americas! From Mexico City to Toronto, we all came from somewhere else, and we have all stood in Maria’s shoes looking for hope in a new world. But . . . It’s so easy to hate on people!