I was hoping my mind would be calmer than this when the day came, that I would be my normal, optimistic self, and not wound up from the memories, or the history that's gone on since then. I was hoping I wouldn't have to write this, that I would no longer be aggravated by everything that went on afterwards.
Sadly, it seems that this is not true.
If the events of that day are still triggery for you, or that I might offend you in some way, I apologize ahead of time. I completely understand if you ignore this post, or if you want to call me on bullshit, or what have you. That's fine. If you say I'm politicizing a tragic event, perhaps I am, but I'm not the only one, and you have every right to call me on that as well. If you were there and witnessed it all, or were affected by it directly or indirectly, and think I couldn't begin to understand what you went through, you're completely right. But as an American and as an individual, I need to say this.
What's on my mind should be the just-shy-of three thousand people who perished ten years ago. The business people, the restaurant workers, the maintenance workers, the visitors, those who got out and those who didn't. What should be on my mind is my high school friend Eric, who is still alive only because he got the fuck out of there before the second plane hit the other tower. What should be on my mind are the policemen, the firemen, the EMTs, and the completely random Samaritans who stayed behind to help those who were caught or left behind. What should be on my mind is that, had Flight 77 come in at a different angle, it could have easily hit the building complex just across the highway, where my aunt still lives. Some of her fellow tenants witnessed the Pentagon crash firsthand.
To some extent, they are all on my mind today.
I feel sorrow for those who did not make it. I feel relief for those who did. I feel awe and inspiration for those who helped and those who saved. But I feel...Christ, I don't know what the hell I feel about the event as a whole. Anger? Frustration? Sadness? Irritation? All that and everything in between?
What, really, is making me bitterly angry about the events of ten years ago?
It could be centered on bin Laden and those al-Qaeda operatives who planned and executed their plan in the first place. And note that I specifically said whom this anger is aimed at; I didn't say Muslims, I didn't say Arabs, I didn't say Islam, I didn't say Afghanistan, I didn't say Iraq. I accused those who pulled it off.
And I think that is what is really making me bitterly angry about what happened, after ten years.
To put it bluntly and out in the open: this country fucking embarrasses me sometimes.
I have trouble saying "I'm proud to be an American" because in this day and age, I'm really not sure what that means anymore. Does that mean that I'm proud that we're a democracy? That we have relatively good freedoms, when it comes down to it? That we have soldiers, policemen and firefighters who will go into harm's way to protect us? Once, a long time ago when I was a kid, that's what I thought it meant. To some extent, I still do believe that. But what does it really mean now? What does it mean, when the meaning behind it for those with louder voices than my own have turned it into a patriotic translation of "we rule and we're going to fucking KICK YOUR ASS if you aren't on our side"? That those with a supposedly more patriotic heart than mine equate it to waving a flag in the faces of everyone else beneath them? My point being--what does "I'm proud to be an American" mean, when it's become an emotional reaction, instead of a deeply-felt belief? How did that become a surface emotion?
It's this exceptionalism, this "USA! USA! USA! WE'RE NUMBER ONE!" that bothers me, because it's all talk and bravado with very little underneath it. It's a football cry that might have been needed back in the days following that event to bring emotions back to a normal level. But that particular game is over, and we've got to focus on finishing the season now, to continue the metaphor. It bothered me then, because I knew people were going to take it to its logical, narrow-minded conclusion. People were going to see not just al-Qaeda but all of Islam as bad. People were going to find scapegoats, and quickly. And most importantly, they were going to say what I was afraid they'd say.
"You're either with us or against us."
I understand the tenet, "united we stand, divided we fall", don't get me wrong. I understand that a unit of people with ideas and plans need to work together, or nothing will get done. I understand that a team sent to the front lines isn't going to survive if their members don't have their hearts and minds on the tasks at hand. But what bothers me is that many who have used this tenet have brought it to a surface conclusion: "you're either pro-war, or you're unAmerican". This was taken up by the armchair warriors, the pundits, all the way up to senators and representatives in Congress. It's the anti-war believers being shunned as unAmerican. It's french fries having its name changed because France wasn't behind Gulf War II. It's flagwavers thratening to kick the ass of flaming liberals who dare question the Almighty President. It's the patriotic fervor where those with differing opinions are name-called, beaten up, arrested. It's like the 1960's all over again...haven't we learned anything yet?
But moreover, it's the actions and the behavior of those we expect to be the pinnacle of leadership following this same avenue that bother the hell out of me.
How could I believe in and trust a two-term president who publicly admitted a few years after the event that al-Qaeda and bin Laden weren't really high on his priority list, that it wasn't really on his mind all that often? How could I believe in and trust a military panel that had convinced me that perhaps something bad was happening in Iraq, only to find that there were no WMDs? Don't get me wrong; I may be a liberal Democrat, but I try to keep my mind open to other people's opinions. I was wary when, instead of going directly for bin Laden, we diverted ourselves to Iraq instead, but at the time I trusted Colin Powell and his team because they felt they had credible proof and reason to go there. We were all still nervous after those few years, because we didn't know what might happen next. We were all on a heightened alert, and anything that looked fishy needed to be investigated. So when it was proven that there were no WMDs, that we were sending over soldiers ill-prepared, that we were warring with another country that may or may not have warranted it, that's when you lost me. That's when my first reaction was disgust: how could we have killed or gotten killed for such a misdirected, mishandled action? And why are we not accepting blame for that?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders who were putting people in prisons, torturing them, and not bringing them to trial?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders whose reaction to a major hurricane event in Louisiana (where my in-laws and countless distant relations live) was delayed, half-assed and extremely disorganized?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders whose religious beliefs are more important than the welfare of the country?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders who listen in on our conversations and watch us without warrants?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders whose response to those who ask for help or fairness, is a cold "no, you can't"?
How could I believe in and trust in leaders whose actions make me want to respond with "What the FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU?"
How could I believe in and trust in leaders who are too distracted to realize how much we're still hurting, not only from that event ten years ago, but from the economy, the horrific natural disasters, the crime, the lack of faith we have in them?
What the hell does all this have to do with September 11, 2001, anyway? Why am I not sitting here in my office, sitting in quiet contemplation, thinking about those who lived through it or died because of it?
It's because you caused this, politics and politicians, pundits and media. Because you rammed it down my throat day in, day out, for the last ten years, to ensure that we remembered it the way you wanted us to remember it. Because, instead of turning a blind eye to your rantings and ravings, I had to react to your thoughtlessness, your racism, your prosletyzing, your Dominionism, your exclusionary tactics, your bumbling leadership when we needed it most, your diversions, and everything else that caused me to turn this into a political event. You, the party that used footage of the second Tower being hit for your party's convention. You, the loudmouth pundits who think I'm less than human because I questioned President Bush's actions.
You, the leaders and followers who have demonized immigrants because of one day's events on our soil.
You, the leaders and followers who have demonized a religion because of one day's events on our soil.
J'accuse, because you brought me to this, when all I really want to do is hope that we can work together for once instead of fighting like goddamned children on a playground.
We're all in this together, despite our differences. Or perhaps because of them.
If anything, all I ask is that we remember at least that much.
Mon Sep 12, 2011 at 7:13 PM PT: UPDATE 1: I should probably mention that this diary does aim mostly on the Red side of the aisle, but that certainly doesn't mean it's completely their fault. I've seen many Democrats (leaders and followers alike) guilty of what I had to say.
UPDATE 2: Yes, I'm shamelessly reposting this because it was published just before the boycott posts inundated the Recent Diaries section, which most likely buried this diary before anyone even saw it.