The idea of writing about 9/11 triggered a voice in my head that kept echoing, “cliché, cliché, cliché…”
In truth, that was actually the fear speaking—the fear, which has plagued many minds for a decade now.
Where I was…
Mrs. Henderson walked into her classroom where her sophomore math students were busy copying answers off one another. Of course, I was an individual that was cheated off of—even though my grades were not really copying-worthy. Henderson, a usually firm disciplinarian, had a somewhat palish color to her face. She didn’t look at the class; she didn’t say a word about what the teacher from across the hall had been discussing with her. She just walked to her desk, sat down, and looked deeply into a stack of papers that lay on the faux-wood top of the cheap, thin, metal desk.
She already knew that the first plane had crashed into the first tower, but she didn’t know that a second plane had flown into the other tower. “Class, please finish your test. We will turn the television on after everyone has completed their work.” Why would we be watching television? This lady hates for us to enjoy ourselves. Pencils were in high gear—anxiety and lust for television rising—scribble this dot and pass that paper to the front of the row.
A few seconds after the television was turned over to ABC or NBC, the first of the towers came plummeting onto the ground of Manhattan. I can’t even remember what the news anchor was even saying because the image said it all: unimaginable—a horror never before experienced by several generations. Whatever chatter was in that classroom during those first few moments was most likely my discombobulated thoughts spinning and colliding around in my head—pushing to break out of my skull to find clarity of something so unfamiliar; the evil side of reality that eventually cultivates fear.
Before 9/11, I most likely didn’t even know such things as terrorism and countries such as Afghanistan even existed or had even existed before. All of a sudden, my mind was let free from the shackles that held me to the reality that I had known since birth. Life took a new meaning, or maybe it was the way of experiencing life that had really changed. After dissecting all the horrible images and thoughts I had safely experienced from 833 miles away from New York City—I somehow knew that I could no longer be stuck inside the insulated bubble that had been formed around me by church, family, school, and government. There was more going on in the world that was never mentioned at the dinner table. Israelis and Palestinians, concentration camps in North Korea, mass murders in African and Middle-East nations, a rising communist China, declining infrastructure, even further declining employment, cartels, nuclear warfare, financial institutions and mysterious corporate entities that manipulate popular belief. I believe that most people of my generation were trapped in that same room with no windows like I was. However, there was now a gaping hole in one of the walls, and we could see out into the rest of the world if we so chose to not turn around.
I decided to look outside into the unknown, or at least, I think I decided. It marked the beginning of a long, ongoing, dark journey into adulthood and self-discovery. I became addicted to watching 24-hour news networks and constantly reading the news online (which I still do). Through that addiction, I’ve seen hatred that exists within and outside of these imaginary walls that we describe as a country. Witnessing all of the atrocities that occur, it becomes next to impossible to witness the beauty. Beauty fades away with childhood. Fear grows with adulthood.
“What does it take to be an adult,” I often contemplate. “Is it age? Education? Financial status? Marital status?”
For the most part, I have now come to believe that the path to adulthood lies in overcoming the fear of tomorrow—the great unknown. Possibilities… Possibilities… Possibilities that could be positive or negative. Coming to terms with the inevitable lights out that will come in whatever form it chooses.
My nation has become obsessed with fear and avoiding it rather than truly addressing it. It is a fear that has been perpetuated by the media and has evolved into a powerful force that has turned humanity even further against itself. When I speak of humanity, I am addressing not just the whole lot, but the individual as well. Many of us have been told what reality is, and we buy it. Unemployment is out of the roof; we give up on ourselves. The terror alert is high; we stay inside. Eventually, many give up because there are few lights of hope that appear to be on.
The typical, conservative Christian says that the Muslims believe everyone else is the enemy of God and that is why we must stand against their religion and prevent them from opening a mosque in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. And the Muslims say the opposite words with the same message. Everywhere we turn, there is a black-and-white effect that we feel we have to accept as a law of reality. For every force is opposed by another force—Rich vs. Poor, Democracy vs. Communism, Robin Hood vs. The Rich. Upon closer inspection, however, we see cracks in each side, and the further you look the more visible they become.
So do we really see in just black and white? For if every individual viewed life in black and white, could our species have lasted this long on such a small planet in such an infinite time and space? At the core of our existence we struggle with the battle between right and wrong. Some people find their way out of that battle by falling in line with the rest of the troops. Others become lost and simply throw in the towel early on, refusing to look directly into the world outside of those grey walls. Fortunately, we each have the power to pick the towel back up—if we’re willing to question ourselves.
When those people died on 9/11 I lived a life of black and white in a small, conservative, rural town middle Tennessee—fearing the unknown. 10 years later, I am now sitting just a few miles away from the location where I started growing up and dealing with the fear of the unknown. And tonight, while NYC is under a terror alert and people choose to stay in, I will travel to Manhattan to attend a friend’s 30th birthday party.
Growing up. It’s pretty cliché. How are you growing up?