The Day After
Yesterday was the day for reflection and mourning. Yesterday is over and now we have to think about where that day led us.
For me the saddest part of September 11, 2001 is that I can't isolate that day and the tragedy of it. It was only the prologue. Because a tragedy a hundred, a thousand, an uncountable amount worse has happened in the days and years to come. I can't separate 9/11 from the things that have been done in the name of security and revenge. That day of smoke and fire and dust has been used to destroy this country more effectively than any airplane ever could.
When we speak longingly of returning to our happy pre-9/11 world, do we really speak of a world without the fear of terror? Is that all it is? Because I am not afraid. I am right here in the thick and I am not afraid. I am not afraid of airplane nor liquids thereupon, I am not afraid of Arab men nor sleeper cells. I am not afraid of tall buildings. I can still feel that same panic in me rising, given the right circumstances, but so what? How could that possibly be the guiding force of my life? No, the pre-9/11 world I long for is one in which our civil rights were taken for granted, one in which I could still believe, despite El Salvador and Nicaragua and Chile and Panama and on and on that we were generally more a force for good than not. I long for the country I thought I grew up in, the one that spoke of fearing nothing but fear itself. It is the entirely avoidable nightmare of manipulation and greed and destruction that is the tragedy of 9/11. For me, the colossal failure of leadership came afterwards, not before. It seems to me that you cannot stop everyone who hates and has access to a box cutter. All you can do is control your own reaction.
Keith Olbermann threw out a doozy of a commentary last night. Watch it. And the next time you see those two perfectly tall buildings with open black gashes in your mind and feel utterly helpless, snap out of it. You are not helpless -- that was only the prologue. The story is still being written.
Like the man said, don't mourn, organize.
For me the saddest part of September 11, 2001 is that I can't isolate that day and the tragedy of it. It was only the prologue. Because a tragedy a hundred, a thousand, an uncountable amount worse has happened in the days and years to come. I can't separate 9/11 from the things that have been done in the name of security and revenge. That day of smoke and fire and dust has been used to destroy this country more effectively than any airplane ever could.
When we speak longingly of returning to our happy pre-9/11 world, do we really speak of a world without the fear of terror? Is that all it is? Because I am not afraid. I am right here in the thick and I am not afraid. I am not afraid of airplane nor liquids thereupon, I am not afraid of Arab men nor sleeper cells. I am not afraid of tall buildings. I can still feel that same panic in me rising, given the right circumstances, but so what? How could that possibly be the guiding force of my life? No, the pre-9/11 world I long for is one in which our civil rights were taken for granted, one in which I could still believe, despite El Salvador and Nicaragua and Chile and Panama and on and on that we were generally more a force for good than not. I long for the country I thought I grew up in, the one that spoke of fearing nothing but fear itself. It is the entirely avoidable nightmare of manipulation and greed and destruction that is the tragedy of 9/11. For me, the colossal failure of leadership came afterwards, not before. It seems to me that you cannot stop everyone who hates and has access to a box cutter. All you can do is control your own reaction.
Keith Olbermann threw out a doozy of a commentary last night. Watch it. And the next time you see those two perfectly tall buildings with open black gashes in your mind and feel utterly helpless, snap out of it. You are not helpless -- that was only the prologue. The story is still being written.
Like the man said, don't mourn, organize.
posted by chiniqua at 10:39 AM
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