On September 11th 2001, I was seven years old. I was bright and curious, yet too young to understand the impact of what had just happened. All the families that would be forever broken due to the hate of a few, or the years of war laid out in front of us, or that I would now grow up in a world saturated in Islamophobia, were far from mind, let alone my understanding. Yet, that day, I remember hitting my fist hard against the coffee table in our living room, while watching footage of the falling towers over and over again and knowing that this act of terror was neither right nor fair. I recall feeling an unexplainable sadness free from any concept of the actual event or those that followed. It was just instinctually there.
Since then, I have spent years delving into that day in efforts to reconcile its impact on my life then and now. I had long wished I was old enough to understand the veracity of the events and lives it affected as they unfolded, instead of having glue the pieces back together year by year. I have taken classes on Middle Eastern society, its revolutions, the Ottomans and Islam as a peaceful religion. I have learned about indigenous tribes and The Quran and hadith and the prophet Mohammad and all the borders we set post WWII. I have engaged with the news and watched documentaries and read books, not because I had to, but out of curiosity. No, I would not consider myself an expert by any sorts of the imagination, but definitely educated enough to decipher my world and where I stand.
I have now had over fourteen years of growth and education since the September 11th attacks, but this morning as I laid in bed and read the articles on the Paris bombings and heard the death tolls and saw the images of blood soaked sidewalks, tears ran down my face with a helplessness and confusion not much different than that felt by my seven year old self. All that I had learned, or thought I had learned, left me – it could not be applied or understood or rationalized in order to make sense of last nights events because they were equally as heinous and unfair. I was once again the seven-year-old girl banging her fist against the coffee table because I could not understand my world. I guess I thought my education could save me – save me from feeling mad, or helpless or confused, but it couldn’t.
What happened in Paris yesterday was an inhuman atrocity. It depicts the utmost evil in our world. It is not something that is okay, nor should we treat it as such. People from across the globe lost lives, and families, and limbs, but most of all, they lost their sense of freedom – something that, admittedly as an Americans, hits a lot closer to home than the physicality of the events. We can handle death, and blood shed, unfortunately we’ve grown accustom to it, but we cannot fathom the lost of our intangible freedom. As Americans, we innately understand the city Paris and the French; we are one of the same, with roots so intertwined with their culture that they have been materialized in our own. Laissez-faire – a theory grounded in ultimate freedom, shapes our entire consuming and competitive culture. We are built on them. The French are close to home and thus, this event breaks our hearts in a way ever so similar to September 11th did nearly a decade and a half ago.
However, our brotherly bond over our natural born freedoms is not an excuse to turn a blind eye to those whose freedoms are not inherent. We no longer live in a world where our geographic location and political interest dictates our access to information. Each day, I recieve live updates from all around the globe from the AP, The BCC, and Reuters straight to my phone. Access is now instant, we don't have to search for it. We know what is happening, when it is happening and thus have created global community of endless information. But, despite our interconnectivity, there is still a clear grouping of the other. Our lack of knowledge and understanding from media outlets and politicians, and as American citizens in wake of the recent tragedies in Beirut, in francophone Lebanon, and Baghdad, in Iraq, attests to our view of all of the Middle East and its citizens as different. We do not embrace those who are less free, instead we group them as a whole - or worse - the problem. Unfortunately, as a culture, do not see these people as our brothers or sisters with the same obligations and daily struggles we have. Instead we peer in on their struggles with just enough distance so that they are not our problems, but our sympathies. We do not recognize their individualities and complexities or their drive and ambitions - all of which are so similar to our own.
Now, who knows, maybe France will be our window to this world – where we stop taking for granted our freedoms and quit drawing lines to mark differences. If we open our homes and our hearts to those in need after the Paris bombings, how can we not at least contemplate doing the same for the thousands upon thousands of Syrian refugees looking for asylum from the same hateful group of people - ones who have made the entire world suffer?
I’m fourteen years past seven – fourteen years past an unrecognized milestone, fourteen years deep in education and access, yet still as confused and unconfident in my feelings as every before. I question why I think I have the liberty to preach any of this – a young, ambitious, socially all inclusive, semi-privileged white girl from Long Island with some conservative roots that run deep and an honorable and hard working father who spent countless hours as a fireman digging through wreckage at Ground Zero. I woke up this morning with no obligations to write this - no deadlines, or pressure or payment on the table. Just the resources, support, and freedom, as an American, to do so. I’ve been blessed with an education and passion for learning, but I've also been blessed to be surrounded by people, and technologies, who've empowered me to be me regardless. No, I don't have a formula to save the world - I mean, I'd be cool if I did - but, I do believe that using our resources and technologies to understand and connect with others, regardless of culture, is one of the many baby steps toward a more inclusive and peaceful world. So pray for Paris, but more importantly pray for our world.