In a country where the freedom of expression is permitted, promoted, and so highly regarded, though, dissent is also ever present, and at fifteen, I listened to those voices of dissent. It was easy to feel disillusion then; despite the numerous accomplishments of his regime, Bill Clinton left the presidency with a tarnished record, and the disastrous 2000 election placed a man in office whom I could not trust, let alone admire. My faith in American politics was shaken by current events; studying history did not help. I was studying American history my junior year, and was busy uncovering America’s shameful past. Those early weeks of American history revealed to me many of the horrors behind America’s colonial years--the abuses of Native Americans and the fact that this country was literally built with slave labor. Even Thomas Jefferson, my Jefferson, the author of those beautiful words in the Declaration, was not above the shame of our past. I was fifteen, on the cusp of sweet sixteen, and I was naïve, dramatic, and lost.
And then the world broke. I stood in the bathroom one morning, getting ready for school, and listened as a shocked radio DJ informed listeners that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. The day that unfolded was a nightmare; each hour brought more news more terrible than before. Even ten years later I can recall with painful clarity my grief and fear on that terrible day. To borrow from Franklin Delano Roosevelt, September 11 was a date which will live in infamy, and I cannot describe the pain that even now remains strong. I believe it is unnecessary to describe my feelings, though, because the pain and the grief and fear I felt were shared by all.
The stories that have emerged from that day are heartbreaking, but they reveal the true beauty that lies in mankind. They are stories of profound loss, but also of true heroism and humanity. I grieved--and still grieve--for the loss of so many that day, but I cannot help feel pride in the men and women who revealed themselves to be heroes that day. To the rest of the country, the rescue workers and emergency responders who so valiantly worked to pull people from the towers became heroes of an almost epic proportion. But there were other heroes that day; the men and women who took to the streets with cups of water and sandwiches, blankets and kind words for the shocked and shaken survivors were heroic, too, as were the countless others who rushed to provide supplies, to donate blood, to offer any form of comfort possible. And one cannot forget the unimaginable bravery and self-sacrifice of the passengers of Flight 93. We found and lost so many heroes that day.
In the aftermath of 9/11, I saw the world pull together, united by a shared sense of sorrow and empathy. The attack was not an attack upon America, but a profound loss that shook the global community. For a brief moment it felt as though the world was not divided by nationalities or other social constructions and differences; instead, the world was one giant community that pulled together and grieved collectively. In the years since 2001, I have seen this occur at other moments of great loss--the 2004 tsunami that devastated Thailand, the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan--but for me, the aftermath of 9/11 holds the greatest significance. I am forever changed by what I witnessed, deeply moved by mankind’s display of strength, compassion, and hope.
September 11 cured me of my crisis of faith. Where the idols of Jefferson and Franklin once stood, I had a whole slew of American heroes. I maintain a wariness towards politicians (both past and present) that I may never lose, but I look at that as a good thing; to blindly believe in a hero or idol is dangerous and leads to zealotry. I still revel in American mythology, but I am careful to remember that it is, in fact, mythology.
Two months after the attacks I traveled to Washington, D.C., and saw for myself the still smoking Pentagon and the makeshift memorial citizens had erected. I had gone to D.C. with a group of strangers--students and teachers from around the country--and though we were friendly with one another, we were a group of individuals. As I stood looking at the Pentagon, so overcome with emotion that I felt ready to collapse, I heard a companion start to sing “God Bless America.” He drew our party together and we stood, arms around another to offer comfort, companionship, and strength and we sang and cried. When we left the memorial, we were no longer individuals but a small community banded together by our shared experience.
That day, like 9/11, changed me. I had never felt great emotion when I hear the national anthem or other patriotic songs, but, days later as I sat through a Veterans’ Day assembly, I was overcome as I listened to my school sing “The Star Spangled Banner.” I couldn’t help but cry, unphased by the stares and whispers of my neighbors. I still cry every time I hear a large group of people sing the national anthem. I return to the 9/11 memorial and that beautiful moment of unity I felt as I stood with my companions. I hope I never forget that feeling.
The September 11 attacks changed me in another way. I am Hispanic-American, and growing up I took great pride in this. I am proud of my heritage and I celebrate my ethnicity. As a child, though, I took pains to always differentiate myself; I took pride in identifying myself as Bolivian-American or Hispanic-American. In the aftermath of 9/11, though, many people like me of mixed backgrounds dropped their hyphens. On September 11, 2001, I, like so many others, ceased to be Hispanic-American or Bolivian-American and became simply, proudly American. For a moment, we were all united as one nation, no longer divided by our ethnic or racial backgrounds. For too brief a time, we became the country Martin Luther King dreamed of. This of course has faded, and America is again a country with hyphenated citizens. As we prepare for tomorrow, though, I cannot help but hope that we can all remember that feeling of unity. My hope is that tomorrow, we will not experience feelings of hate or revenge, but instead that we will celebrate the good in humanity that we saw emerge so clearly on 9/11. This country was founded upon the ideal that all men and women are created equal, and I hope that tomorrow, we all remember that ideal. I pray that we can all come together again as a single community, forgetting our cultural, ethnic, and religious differences. I hope that tomorrow finds us as one nation, indivisible, with compassion and love for all.
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