18 Years Ago Today: A Reflection

I was in the 5th grade at PS. 95 in the Bronx when I first got any information related to the terrorist attack on September 11th, 2001.

“US FIGHTER JETS ARE BOMBING THE WORLD TRADE CENTER” came blurted frantically through the loud speaker within .7 seconds probably while Rudy was telling me a full recounting of Charmed.

I was 10, but that shit made no sense.

“Somebody child losing they announcement privileges,” I thought.

I would later find out somebody was indeed the Principal.

But then I heard the wheelie stand coming.

Now for those who don’t know — the wheelie stand meant we get lit in unison. For it was movie time. We knew algebra was leaving and fire was being wheeled in.

I’ll never forget the time we saw Titanic and Watson aka “The Watts” aka “Chicken wing” was realizing in slow motion what was about to happen when Jack started painting Rose on the couch and whisper-yelled in my ear WE SEEING TITTIES IN SCHOOL

Except this time the brolic 1997 television was replaced by a small toaster looking radio from maybe 1983. And in retrospect, I’m glad it was.

Because SOMEBODY thought it was just a BRILLIANT idea to, not only leave out an explanation in layman’s terms about what was happening, and not even give some brief background of broadcast we were about to hear, but to play the news coverage for our pokedex-having asses AS THE SECOND TOWER WENT DOWN AND THE NEWSCASTERS CRIED.

My friend, who I’ll call ‘D’ turned around, looked at me, and started laughing. I don’t believe D was (or is to my knowledge) a psychopath. I believe, in this moment D’s 9-year-old emotional compass wasn’t wide enough to process the real-time, play-by-play horror of our nation under imminent attack, and rationalized it to a fiction or a wild round of Goldeneye.

NYC public school.

I can recount my bizarre 9/11 story now with some degree of levity. At 10 years old, I didn’t get the magnitude of loss and ramifications of this act of terror at the time. But every year, I feel it more as it solidifies.

I was lucky to not have lost anyone close on 9/11. Many people I know weren’t so lucky. But I lost a lot of faith in my country of the course of the 18 years it took for the first responders who did survive to have their health and sacrifice put ahead of politics.

So why post this on Let’s Not Be Trash?

September 11th has become part of our barometer of patriotism. Who stands v. kneels during the anthem. Who supports our troops v. who criticizes our foreign conflicts. Who believes in suspending civil liberties and profiling certain demographics and nationalities v. who opposed it. And it shouldn’t. People lost lives and families on that day. We all lost a part of our city that day.

We all have a right, as Americans, and definitely as New Yorkers, to honor the victims in the way most authentic to us all. “Never Forget” means to never forget those victims who lost their lives on September 11th or in the aftermath. And the first responders and family members, whose lives were forever impacted. It also means to never forget how we were impacted as a city and nation.

The hate crimes and speech nationally, and within our “diverse and inclusive” city, towards peaceful residents wearing a hijab. The unlawful surveillance of Muslim-Americans and detention in Guantanamo Bay without due process. The endless wars to follow. And the deaths abroad that outnumbered the attack at home — and the collateral damage abroad in quantities we may never know. We can commemorate the day while criticizing it’s politicization. We can mourn those who died while fighting for those who continue to suffer physically and politically. We can condemn terrorism and its misappropriation. Homage and patriotism are all these things.

But the second reason I want to close on, is simple, and, admittedly, anecdotal. And due to the time passed, and, possibly the stress of the day, exact details are imperfect.

On 9/11 I remember a lot of arguing.

Not over politics and foreign policy. But over trivial shit. Just personal attacks and pettiness. In the school, on the street, among families. And I remember most of the yelling and anger coming from men. During a time when everyone, young children especially, needed support and guidance.

Men who do not know how to communicate emotions will burden those around them with the labor. And it will usually be the worst, most extreme of their emotion, since it’s going through an unnatural channel. Fear, sadness, and disappointment aren’t meant to be coupled with rage by default.

The fact is, many men during 9/11 were probably scared. Scared for their lives and for those of their children and families. But fear and insecurity are not emotions that men are taught to be included the sufficiently masculine package. And when men buy into a notion of sufficient masculinity, they need to constantly prove it. Thus, if fear is about to be expressed, it must be masked. And the emotion with a monopoly on that mask is anger. Anger that he doesn’t know how to say “I’m scared.” Anger that he wonders what would have happened if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or his children were. Anger that he may not know what to say or do next, and that as the ‘man of the house,’ he must always know what to do next. Anger that maybe his fear will not be acceptable from anyone around him, intimate or distant.

The effects of a constrained masculinity can be that in the face of terror, a man cannot express his own.

18 years ago today, I didn’t make most of these connections. But 18 years later I don’t think we can afford to not make them.

So irrespective of gender and ethnicity:

Let us all mourn. Let us all have fear. Let us all have insecurity. Let us all fight for our place and freedom in this country no matter the background of who tried to take it away.

And from now on, let’s never forget it.

Originally published at Let’s Not Be Trash.