By Sinead O'Connor
When I was a child, Ireland was a Catholic theocracy. If a bishop came walking down the street, people would move to make a path for him. If a bishop attended a national sporting event, the team would kneel to kiss his ring. If someone made a mistake, instead of saying, "Nobody's perfect," we said, "Ah sure, it could happen to a bishop." The expression was more accurate than we knew. This month, Pope Benedict XVI wrote a pastoral letter of apology -- of sorts -- to Ireland to atone for decades of sexual abuse of minors by priests whom those children were supposed to trust.
Above: in 1992, Sinead O'Connor appeared on Saturday Night Live and performed an a cappella version of Bob Marley's "War." She substituted lyrics regarding rascism with lyrics about sexual abuse of children, and because she was protesting the abuse of children by members of the Roman Catholic church she concluded by ripping up a photograph of Pope John Paul II and commanded her audience to "fight the real enemy." Public reaction was hostile and intense.
When I was a young girl, my mother -- an abusive, less-than-perfect parent -- encouraged me to shoplift. After being caught once too often, I spent 18 months in An Grianán Training Centre, an institution in Dublin for girls with behavioral problems, at the recommendation of a social worker. An Grianán was one of the now-infamous church-sponsored "Magdalene laundries," which housed pregnant teenagers and uncooperative young women. We worked in the basement, washing priests' clothes in sinks with cold water and bars of soap. We studied math and typing. We had limited contact with our families. We earned no wages. One of the nuns, at least, was kind to me and gave me my first guitar.
Now read Sinead's full piece at The Washington Post
Saturday Night Live producer, Lorne Michaels, claimed he was never made aware of how O'Connor was going to end her song, in fact, during the dress rehearsal she held up a photo of an African child. A cowardly Saturday Night Live substituted the dress rehearsal version for all future rebroadcasts of the episode, and only released the "Live" version on a DVD box set called "Saturday Night Live - 25 Years of Music."
Sinead took a very brave stance that night and she felt the repercussions of her actions rather immediately. Take a look at her original song followed by a performance a mere two weeks later at the Tribute to Bob Dylan.
So you would think that performing at a Tribute to Bob Dylan might be a spot where Sinead would find some sympathetic audience members, music fans who understood a thing or two about protests, but I guess you just can't go around ripping up photos of the Pope and pick up life as if nothing ever happened. Sinead was set to perfom "I Believe in You," but the crowd was so loud and furiously attempting to shut her down that she never got the chance.
It seemed as though not everyone was against her. When she first comes on stage you can clearly hear people cheering, but then you can hear the booing and the jeers, and they don't seem to stop. Sinead seems so small and meek up on that stage as she tells the piano player to stop playing, and she just stands before the screaming crowd. Kris Kristofferson attempts to comfort her, but she refuses to leave the stage. Sinead absorbs the wall of hatred projected at her.
Eventually Sinead realizes that she will not get to perform the song she came to sing, so she digs deep, and brings back the song none of them want to hear, "War," for one final performance. It is one of the most rebellious rock moments I have ever seen. It shows incredible internal strength and conviction to be able to stand before that crowd and force them to listen to what they despise. I'm curious as to what Bob Dylan thought of the moment. credit Modern Neon Sound
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