I remember that day as if it was yesterday, instead of 13
years ago. I was four-months pregnant
with my last child when I got the call that one of the Towers of the World
Trade Center was hit. I immediately ran to turn on the TV, my stomach in knots.
I saw the image of the left tower hit and then a plane hit the right tower as
the reporter continued to give accounts and show the live footage. And then,
all of a sudden, these massive towers collapsed one after the other. My mouth
dropped in disbelieve; tears rolled down my eyes, and my belly started cramping
up.
All I could think about was my family in New York, was
everyone safe? Were people able to make it out alive? And then more news, the
Pentagon was attacked, and another hijacked plane was heading to the White
House but was heroically brought down in Pennsylvania by a “few good men”. What
was our world coming to? Who would do this? We were told, terrorist from the
Middle East. The reasons why really didn’t matter, all we knew is that the
mighty United States was vulnerable. We were not safe and foreigners that looked,
walked, or seemed Middle Eastern were responsible.
It made sense that the United States would go on lockdown,
after that unspeakable tragedy. The creation and upgrade of Homeland Security
was a necessity. As was the right for all
intelligence agencies to invade our privacy via internet, phone, cell phones,
mail, etc. America was right to call for immediate retribution. It didn’t
matter that a thorough investigation was not conducted, we wanted justice. And it was alright to ostracize anyone who
looked like the culprits. We were fearful and fighting for our lives. It wasn’t
safe to fly any more not even in-country; it wasn’t safe to travel out of the
country; our government couldn’t even protect itself, the Pentagon. We
understood the need to tighten security at our borders to make sure the terrorist
could not do a repeat attack.
