Today is a tricky day. It's the 9th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade centers and the Pentagon, and the news on every station and on every website is all about the tragedy and how we're healing as a country.
I have to agree, I think we've all coped pretty well with the fall out, despite the fact that airport security is much stricter and we've all become ridiculously paranoid of anyone who looks like they're of Arab decent and we've started protesting construction of Islamic community centers and insane pastors have threatened to burn Qu'rans all over the place and... well, I think you see my point.
The truth is, we've become ridiculous. We're unnecessarily blaming an entire, ancient religion (one that worships the same God as Christianity does, has been around for longer, and is built on peace) for the actions of extremists that do not (I repeat, DO NOT) represent the beliefs of the religion as a whole. We've spent billions of dollars invading two countries, one of which did hold the responsible parties, and one of which did not in any way have anything to do with it. We've let our fear cloud our judgment.
I have several friends who are Muslim, and I can't even begin to imagine how they felt when they heard that someone was going to burn their holy book to "send a message." Who was he supposedly sending the message to? Because it sure looked like he was sending it to everyone who lives in our country, who loves it and fights for it and believes in justice and democracy, who just happens to be Muslim. That is a crime above all crimes. He successfully alienated an entire faction of our population in his attempt to let the radicals know that we won't tolerate their behavior. Well, guess what pastor dude? We don't tolerate yours.
I've always had an issue with these problems cropping up around 9/11, because it wasn't just the day that the twin towers were destroyed, it was my 10th birthday.
Up until that year, I had always lived to look forward to the day of my birth. For me, it meant presents. And presents meant fun. And fun meant happiness. Not grief, despair, and years, perhaps centuries, of national paranoia. In that one day, all my pre-conceived notions of my natal day were smashed to little bits. It would never just be a day of happiness anymore.
This is my 9th birthday after the tragedy, and it's still happening, all over the place. I don't claim that my problems are the worst ones out there, because there are thousands of people who lost a loved one that day, and I will never, ever think that their pain is less than mine. I'm not selfish enough to think that the day is just for me. But I do think that I have a right to be happy on this day, while keeping in mind the sacrifice that those people made. Their heroism will always be with me.
What I don't like about this day is that so many people go out of their way to consistently remind us that this country has become a clusterf**k of fear mongering and powerhungry media folks just looking to cash in on the pain of others. People like Glenn Beck and that Pastor Terry Jones who incite fear in others for their own personal profit make me sick, and I hate that they use this day as a golden opportunity to do just that.
I guess I just have to learn to balance how much of this I pay attention to and how much I ignore on my birthday. I think I deserve to be a little selfish and not want to be constantly bombarded with reminders about what happened. Its not like it just goes away. I remember every other day of the year. I just want to be happy again. Like the birthdays I had before this all happened. Is that too much to ask for?
HPRT: I bought Darren Criss's EP, Human with my birthday iTunes =]
Current Book: MOCKINGJAY!!! FINALLY!!! by Suzanne Collins
Current Song: Art Class by Lauren Fairweather
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