10 Years Later

It's time to talk about something that's not fun. It's not amusing and it's not for entertainment. However, given the situation, I really feel like I need to write this down.

Today is the 10th of September, 2011. I don't need to tell you what event has it's 10 year anniversary tomorrow. For the past week, maybe longer, I have heard talk of 9/11 crop up in virtually every outlet I have for news. I won't lie; for the most part, I've been ignoring it. Part of me feels guilty about it, but part of me is completely jaded about the whole thing.

Me only months before 9/11.

Consider this: I was fourteen years and a few months old when it happened. I was old enough to understand the gravity of what was happening and yet young enough to have my formative years bombarded by the post-9/11 culture of the United States. I traveled A LOT as a kid (flying back and fourth between parents) and watched what had been a fairly enjoyable and exciting activity for me turn into one full of anxiety, suspicion, and high security. I grew up in a country where there was an intensified fear, suspicion and even hatred of the "other" - even though the terms that defined the "other" varied somewhat from time to time. People talk about how the United States came together after 9/11 and that is certainly true in the people to volenteered time, money and resources into helping their fellow man. But that's not the America I really ever got exposed to. I never saw any of that behavior (even though I know in retrospect it was happening throughout the nation). I watched the news very often as a teen, so I grew up with the stories of the latest threats and crimes, not the kindness in people's hearts. I felt the intense potential for coming together, like people desperately wanting to cling to each other into one giant national hug. But within months, that just seemed to slip away. The desire to feel some sort of resolution, to have something positive come out of the event, went unfulfilled for me. Instead, I just watched the country go back to the same in-fighting and pointing fingers that it has always done. To my young mind, it seemed that nothing had changed in the way we treated one another, just the way in which we wrapped ourselves in the flag and declared that those who disagreed with us must want to hurt America- be they our countrymen or not. I also had a family friend who is a close relative of John Walker Lindh... which, as you can probably imagine, gave me a fairly unique perspective on the "American Taliban" who was absolutely demonized into a two dimensional cartoon villain by most of the news reports I saw. (Note: I am not making a judgement here about what he did or the degree to which he deserved punishment, etc. I only bring it up because I grew up with a very real reminder that the "enemy" is a real human being and it's easy to forget that the real world is a very complicated place if you just listen to what you're told in the media.)

I couldn't help but feel jaded about the whole situation, as this anniversary approaches. I didn't want to hear news stories of people re-informing us about something that we haven't allowed ourselves to ever forget. Combine that with the fact that I thoroughly disagree with the direction our country has taken in reacting to the attacks, and I end up seeing 9/11 as just the beginning in a huge senseless tragedy.

And then I watched this absolutely stunning video about 9/11.

I think the simplicity of it is what really struck me. After all the talk about 9/11 and what it means, what changes it has or hasn't made in this country, the religious prejudice that has come out of it and whether or not it is justified, etc. etc. etc.

But to simply see it all again left me with no other option than to write this. It took me back to that morning, to waking up and going downstairs and seeing the second tower fall. It took me back to that feeling of absolute helplessness and confusion as I tried to process what had just happened, wanting desperately to watch the news but instead being shuffled off to school with no understanding of who or why or how, just that so many people had just died in a grotesque and completely random way. It took me back to being a young teen who realized that life is completely taken for granted: that I could have my life snuffed out in an instant and that it could have nothing to do with what I do with my life or how I choose to treat people. Being alive, I realized, was completely out of my control. Outside of suicide, living or dying was not something I could choose or control and I could be the most altruistic human being on Earth and still be killed in a completely random and senseless way. All those people had died, hadn't they? None of them had done anything to deserve it. Any ideas that I had about a world that was structured or purposefully fated was destroyed. Any faith that I tried to convince myself I had in anything beyond the great capacity for human goodness and evil pretty much vanished in the process of trying to understand and cope with what had happened. I will never not feel sorry, so intensely sorry, about those who died that day and the damage that was done. 9/11 is not something that is frequently on my mind, but I can't deny that it has had a huge effect on who I have become.

Photo from my trip to Ground Zero some years ago.

Deep breaths everyone. Thank you for letting me have that moment. I promise things will be more lighthearted shortly.