Reflections : Land of the Free?
Dear Mommy,
I remember hearing my name on the loudspeaker and walking to the main office of my middle school on the morning of September 11, 2001. I thought I was in trouble and frantically thought of all the things I could have done to warrant a visit to the office. I remember feeling even more confused when I saw my Dad holding my younger sister's hand while she was crying.
We didn't talk much during the car ride home after my Dad shared that something bad had happened in New York City and we didn't know where you were or if any of our family were okay.
I remember crying in my room, holding my sister, Courtney, and wondering if we'd ever see you again. This was one of the few times I've ever seen my Dad cry. I remember feeling scared that my family in New York City- my aunts, uncles, grandmother, and cousins- were harmed or that I would never see them again.
When I reflect on that day, what I remember most is how you smelled of dust, dirt, and the sweet notes of our favorite Lancôme perfume. I remember hugging you so tight to make sure you were really there. You came home to us, past midnight, after multiple cabs, train rides, and the kindness of strangers transporting people home.
As a native (and forever) New Yorker, today is especially hard to think about, but 9/11 is something I will #neverforget
Today marks 17 years after the September 11 attacks. As we remember the many lives lost to acts of hatred, we are also living in a society that is shaped by the remnants of such terror. Aside from the fear, confusion, gratitude for the safety of my family members, I still feel the palpable shift in how my Muslim loved ones were (and are) treated. I especially think of my own upbringing in a multi-ethnic and multi-Faith home, the shame much of us carried for practicing our faith, wearing the hijab, greeting friends and family with "Assalamu 'Alaikum" and keeping a weathered Quran next to our Bible.
We remember the strength and support in our communities- who rallied in the face of hate- I hope we also remember the humanity and innocence of the millions of Muslims who are persecuted under the guise of Islamophobia dressed as nationalism. I hope the families of those first responders can hold onto the love and gifts their lives gave us, and that we can call their memories often and without fear. I hope we move to a time where we can honor the lives stolen from us in such acts of terror without silencing the voices of Muslim Americans. I still hope.
