I don't intend on making this post into a bigoted rant against the Middle East, Islam, Bush, Obama, or anything political, though I'm sure it'll be perceived that way. But, in my defense, I've lived ten years, a good chunk of my childhood and now adult life, in a state of war. I grew up listening each evening to the reports of the numbers of soldiers lost, of fear of the countries outside my own (Are these countries aiding the terrorists or aren't they? Doesn't the UK let terrorists live in the country in exchange for asylum and the vow to not bomb them? Did someone say Saddam over the intercom?), and of when and where the terrorists attacked next.
Regardless of how this post is perceived, the true intention of this post is to commemorate the lives of those lost in the attacks and to those who risk their lives, ten years later, to make sure an attack of this magnitude never happens again.
"Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?"
Well, Alan Jackson, I remember very, very well where I was. How could I ever forget?
It was in World Geography class and I was ready to fall asleep. All day, the school had let the students play outside, but at lunch, when parents started to pull kids out of school, the place shut down almost entirely. I was exhausted from playing all day, thirsty from the heat, and surprised to see that almost half of my class was missing.
Mrs. G* walked into the class five minutes late, which was unusual. On the board behind her head in her usual fancy script was Today's Date: September 11, 2001. I'll never forget that sight as long as I live.
I knew something was wrong because the teachers were whispering to one another and kept taking breaks to go to the teacher's break room down the hall, and Mrs. G looked especially pale as she stood in front of our class. The sweat on her forehead didn't look like it was entirely from the heat. I know now that it was from fear.
"Class," she told us, her voice reed thin as she got our attention, "class, I have some bad news."
As usual, though, our class talked over her. We were young and I had been stuck with the awful kids (I remember wondering the first day of school if I was being punished for something) and none of them ever paid her any attention during class. Regardless, Mrs. G kept right on talking over us, her thin voice growing in strength.
"Class, some took two planes and flew them into the Twin Towers in New York City. Class, someone attacked our country."
That got our attention real quick.
But Mrs. G didn't crack even after we pestered her. I know now that was because she had been told to continue on with class "as usual", even though kids were being pulled out of school left and right and everyone with an access to the radio or a TV thought WW3 was about to start. Us kids had to wait until we got home to see the horror that had happened.
And what I saw horrified me. I watched footage of people jumping from the burning towers because they weren't sure if help could get to them in time. I heard the screams of those frantically running through the streets as the towers collapsed sending smoke and debris billowing through the city. I saw the looks on the firemen's faces, grimy and tear-streaked, of how the reporters on scene were just in shock...those images horrified me. They still horrify me.
I remember asking my mother why people would do this to us. Had we done something wrong? Had we done something to deserve this? My mother didn't answer, just stared at the TV screen with tears on her face. That's when I knew that whatever had happened wasn't just bad...it was a horrible bad I couldn't comprehend. That's a sobering thought to have at the age of 9.
Years later, I finally understood that some people in this world are evil and they do evil things - terrible things - simply because they can. Because they enjoy causing chaos and watching the world burn. But at the time, I only thought of those people in the planes whose lives had been taken so unnecessarily. Of the pain and suffering those families would now have to live through. Of the smoke bellowing like its own monster from Twin Towers, from the Pentagon, from the plane wreck of United Flight 93. It didn't make sense to me why people would do things like this to another, especially to thousands of people they didn't even know.
When more information came trickling in in the following hours and days, new words like "terrorists" and "Islamic extremists" became part of my vocabulary. I had never paid any attention to those ladies in the mall who wore nightgowns all the time and their faces covered. After that day, I did - and I still do. When I discovered you called 'these people' "Muslims" or "ragheads", I added those to my vocabulary too.
And I grew to distrust these people. Hate them even. Oh, I knew that they weren't all extremists or blew themselves up for virgins in the name of their god Allah. It just didn't matter. They wore weird clothing, they had last names fifteen letters long and studied Islam, and that's all that counted in my book.
So when President Bush called for war, I welcomed it. I wanted revenge for those lives. I wanted someone to pay for the damage they had caused. At the time, it felt like justice, going to war. It felt right. I wanted every Middle Eastern in those -stan, -ran, -raq countries to understand what it was like to lose your parents, your sons, your daughters, your uncles, your nephews, whoever because they deserved it. When I began to learn more about those places, I realized that they already knew war. They'd been fighting with one another since the days of Jesus Christ. They didn't know any different. I didn't know whether to pity them for that or to laugh at the irony - I did both.
Every year on the anniversary of 9/11, I watch the footage of the attacks so I don't forget. I watch the interviews of those families who lost their husbands, wives, daughters, and sons on United 93, reliving the phone calls from their loved ones to tell them they won't make it home and to hug their kids extra tight for them. I keep replaying the moment Mrs. G told my class our country had been attacked. And I will never forget the tears on my mother's face as we sat on the couch together, watching the horrors of that day unfold thousands of miles away in absolute silence.
"This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world."
- President George W. Bush "Address to the Nation" September 11, 2001
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| Always remember. |
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