from rhetoric to “real talk”

So, today at the lovely WJMC, we (the conference attendees) went to the Washington D.C. Newseum. I had never heard of this “newseum” but like any good journalist, I was curious. During the commute to the Newseum, I heard some comments about the “September 11th” exhibit. There was a lot of discussion about the emotion of the exhibit (which entailed a short film and World Trade Center antenna mast).  Now, as usual, I digress.  On the day of the 9-11 attack, I, like most of my peers, was in the fourth grade. Being at a predominantly African-American elementary school where anti-patriotism sentiment was high (byproduct of racism), I was quite oblivious to the effects of this attack upon our country. I saw the people in my suburban White neighborhood staking flags in their front yards, sporting the infamous “we will not forget” bumper stickers, and on the television, the “band of brothers in America” type of pick-me up advertisement meant to reel in Americans from wallowing in their well of sorrows.  Last year, I pondered the concept of the annual 9-11 mopefest. This thought process was brought on by a 9-11  recollection assignment by our blatantly Republican AP History teacher. Since this topic was given during election season in Southern suburbia, race relations were sure to have been demolished by the time we started writing. I was frustrated with the ocurrences around me and the attitudes of my peers.  I was angry at America, the South, Republicans, anyone who disagreed with me. In my paper, I wrote that I empathised with the victims of 9-11, but I did not feel as if this attack concerned me because I did not consider myself to truly be an American citizen. I viewed the attack as Malcolm X said, “America’s chickens coming home to roost.”  I found it karmically justified that “white america” was in distress. I believed that Americans were not moping and crying and being “melodramatic” because of a huge tragedy in our nation, but because for once in our history since gaining independence, America was the oppressed, not the oppressor. I saw the attack as America’s reaping of the hate and injustice it had sown against minorities. I believe that what I wrote was right, even now. Insensitive, yes, but undeniably accurate. However, when I visited the D.C. Newseum, I watched the video and saw the exhibit that everyone kept raving about. It was the most moving thing I have ever experienced in my life. It brought me to tears. There was so much raw emotion in the faces of  the victims and bystanders. I saw the real victims, crying real tears, feeling real pain. It reminded me that September 11th wasn’t about race. It wasn’t about black or white, because even if a person was green with pink polka dots, if they were in a certain part of those buildings, they died that day. The terrorists didnt go through a list to check ethnicity before they bombed us. They crashed into all of us that day. Sitting in that movie room at the exhibit, I felt more American than i ever have in my life. All of us cried. We all were affected because sitting there, we all knew that there was no justifiable reason for these people to lose their lives, hopes, and families while we only sat and watched.

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