I was a senior in high school, walking the halls between classes in the morning, when news of the plane hitting the North Tower first came through. I heard the news from my friend, David. I was confused and thought he must have heard wrong. Jokingly, I told my friend Louay, whose brother was a pilot, to call his brother and tell him to stop flying into buildings. Then news of the South Tower came through while I was in class and I fell silent. My teacher turned on the classroom television, knowing we wouldn't be getting any work done. We sat there, glued to our seats, transfixed on the horrific scene unfolding in New York. We watched the blank faces staring up into the smoke-filled holes in the towers, the workers filing out of the buildings relieved to be alive, and then the collapse of the towers and the frantic running of thousands of New Yorkers and tourists. It was the single most terrifying day of my life. I imagine the same rings true for many Americans.
Having grown up in the United States, I'm spoiled. I was raised knowing that the USA is the greatest country on the planet. After the tragedy at Pearl Harbor, no other country would dare attack us on our soil. Attacking the United States just isn't something that's done. I didn't know what a terrorist was because the word never came up in my daily interactions. I had no idea al Qaida existed or that there were men as evil as Osama bin Laden that wished nothing more than to hurt Americans simply because they were Americans. I happily boarded planes with my mom at the gate to see me off when travelling to Florida to visit my father and grandparents. I had taken one or two trips every year from Denver to Florida since I was six years old. When I came home, my mother was always waiting the moment I stepped off the plane. She didn't have to wait in the airport's "public spaces" and I didn't have to navigate through the terminals on my own.
On September 11th, 2001 everything changed. On the cusp of adulthood, I was rudely reminded that everything I thought the world was, wasn't. I cried for people I had never met. I cried out of confusion. I cried out of fear that my brother, having just joined the army a few months prior, would be shipped off to war and I would never see him again. I wrote a poem at the time that got emailed and forwarded to thousands of people. I have since lost the poem to a series of moves and floods. I was too emotional to read it aloud, so a friend of mine read it to a group of mourners on the steps of the state capitol building as I stood by and cried, tugging at the dog tag around my neck that was inscribed with my brother's name.
Around me in the weeks and months following the attacks, I saw in the faces around me everything I felt. None of us knew what was coming or how we would pick up the pieces of the Trade Center collapse, literally and figuratively. Everyday my mother and I would turn on the evening news and watch firefighters, medics, policemen, and dogs search to find the sources of faint taps belonging to survivors trapped within the rubble. We watched and wondered where all the rubble would go after trucks started hauling it away, load after load. I began imagining what would happen if another attack happened in Denver at our World Trade Center. On September 12, 2001, Americans woke up with a deeper sense of unity. We mourned together, and drew on one another's strength, determined to find a way through an unthinkable tragedy.
The events of September 11th also had another effect on us. It caused us to view with suspicion those among us that come from the Middle East or practice Islam. I looked at my friends in their hijab headscarves and felt sad for them. Americans around the country began attacking those perceived to be Muslim and vandalized their places of worship. Glares, whispers, questions, or outright violence were felt by many Muslims that love this country as much as I do. They hurt right along with us on that tragic day. The mosque located near my neighborhood was threatened several times and today, an uproar is caused any time a mosque is under construction. 9/11 was such a powerful event, it took our rationale away. It took away our compassion and replaced it with fear, anger, and hatred. Muslim became synonymous with terrorist and that sentiment lingers.
We claim that the USA is first and foremost a Christian nation, yet we were founded by Christians, deists, and atheists alike. Visitors to our nation are greeted by the Roman goddess of freedom, even though Christianity and Paganism were in direct conflict with one another at Christianity's rise. We talk about not wanting anymore immigrants within our borders, yet not a single American would exist were it not for immigration. We are America, dammit. We WILL shelter those that need shelter, give to those that need giving, and love those that need loving.
The sense of community we all felt right after the attacks is the America I know. That sense of community is what separates us from other countries. That sense of community is for all of us. The United States was built upon diversity, compassion, love, and a desire to be the greatest nation in the world. Today, on the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks, we owe it to those who died on that day to love one another and treat our neighbors with respect, to rise above this hatred that has brewed inside some of us. I will not raise my daughter to live in fear, but rather to see the world for what it is: a place full of amazing people and places that just happens to have a few bad apples. 9/11 should never be forgotten, nor should we fail to remember that terrorist attacks are never born of peace and love. Idealistic? Maybe. But I wouldn't want to live any other way.
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| Taken at the memorial service help in Downtown Denver on September 15, 2001 |
1 comments:
You are awesome. I am always amazed at the way you see the world and what a wonderful young woman you have become.
I love you not only because you are my daughter, but for the person you are.
Love you!
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