Reflecting, remembering where I was on 9/11. But also where I have been since.
I came across a post I put on social media in 2016 about my experience of the events of 9/11. It kind of struck me in its openness and vulnerability compared to how I express myself online lately. Most days I am more cautious about how I say things or which feelings I express now that algorithms are our collective burden, flattening out discourse and diversity of thought.
Things have changed, we all adapt.
When I posted it on 9/11/2016 it was before we had that incompetent grifter as our president who would blowhard himself through a pandemic then try to overthrow a free and fair election. A grifter who wanted the Taliban to hang with him at Camp David, and who spewed divisive opinions about bigotry being a fine thing after Charlottesville and who tried to openly blackmail the president of Ukraine in a cartoonishly buffoonish fashion.
Today I remember 23 years ago, and I also was just reminded of 8 years ago.
Every year we turn somber reflection toward the 9/11 attack, the deadliest terrorist attack in history. All within a beautiful, crisp sunny morning, we witnessed how close to 3000 innocent civilians could die going to work or traveling in a meticulously thought out, premeditated peacetime murder planned by infamous militant Al-Quaeda members who spent years and money crafting a large-scale destructive and senseless horror. Think about that. We, as a country, watched 3000 of our citizens die on our TVs in real time together while learning just how hated America was that day, as we all were just trying to go to work, pay rent, chase dreams and survive at the same time. Now, Americans just hate on each other the most. We kill one another in churches, mosques, synagogues, concerts, schools and stores. We scream at each other online for having different worldviews or opinions and try to control one another through policies or diminished education opportunities.
I remember feeling deeply scared watching the Towers fall and being terrified that someone like Bush had muscled his way into the White House for this unsettling and frightening moment in history. I can acutely remember his face when getting the news and thinking how screwed we all were and how it would have been better to have had Gore leading in that moment (and now we know, had it been Gore, he may have literally “gotten the memo” before the terrorism happened.)
Anyway, I don’t believe America has healed much at all from that day. I ran across some “jokes” about 9/11 on ex-Twitter today from some edgelords that were not only unfunny but kind of tone deaf as we are all still living in this bigoted and divided nation. Gallows humor can be healing, but I do think it has to come from a place of processing the pain of a thing to strike an amusing or thoughtful note.
Seems no one wants to acknowledge or process pain at all. It is either too draining (which, fair enough, we are over-stimulated and wrung out) or just too unpleasant and therefore holds no value in our numb-out needs to survive a society that nurtures hate, mistrust and disposable human relationships and frosty interactions. But in my experience healing takes reflection. Examination.
I don’t know anything really. I just want us to all heal. Reject hate and violence and learn how to speak respectfully to one another to cultivate closeness and intimacy that leads to fun and safety.
I am not saying I do that or know how to be a certain way all the time, but I am familiar with the emotion of longing. And I yearn.
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Thank you for resharing your 2016 piece and your words of 2024. My younger daughter was a senior at NYU and living in Manhattan on Sept. 11, 2001. My husband and I had flown from Florida to Toronto for a little vacation the night before. On the 11th, I woke in our hotel and couldn’t get onto the internet, and I called the front desk. The clerk solemnly said, “Ma’am, you might want to turn on the television.” Ugh! It wasn’t long after the towers had fallen. It took us several hours to reach our girl. She was safe. There are lots more details, but I’ll spare you. When so many sport t-shirts screaming NEVER FORGET, I wanna yell, “how could we?”
dear janie,
thank you for sharing this.
this resonates with me a lot: "Gallows humor can be healing, but I do think it has to come from a place of processing the pain of a thing to strike an amusing or thoughtful note."
and i agree with everything in this paragraph EXCEPT FOR THIS FIRST LINE OF IT: "Seems no one wants to acknowledge or process pain at all. It is either too draining (which, fair enough, we are over-stimulated and wrung out) or just too unpleasant and therefore holds no value in our numb-out needs to survive a society that nurtures, hate, mistrust and disposable human relationships and frosty interactions. But in my experience healing takes reflection. Examination."
it doesn't seem to me that "no one wants to acknowledge or process pain at all." it seems to me that you do. and a lot of others. perhaps it's just that, for the people who aren't acknowledging or processing or expressing their desire to, those people are being LOUDER so it drowns out a lot of the other folks. but i hear you.
i also very much appreciate and resonate with THIS set of sentences, though i believe that the second one undercuts the truth value of the first one in a meaningful way: "I don’t know anything really. I just want us to all heal."
thank you for sharing your nuanced thoughts and feelings and kindness.
much love
myq