10 years ago today, I was seven, just starting second grade. I had long blond hair and refused to wear anything but dresses. And ten years ago today my country was attacked in the biggest terrorist attack on our soil to date. I had no idea.
Some may criticize my parents choice not to tell me and my brother, who was four at the time. One woman actually told my mom it was "child abuse" to not make us aware of what was happening around us. Now that I am older, though, and know what happened ten years ago, and all of the horrors that followed, I am very grateful to my parents from protecting me that day. As an empathetic child, it would scare, upset and confuse me. That being said, they couldn't complete hide it. I lived in San Francisco. While my school had decided to hide it from the younger students, it was hard to miss the fear and sadness around me. When we tried to go out to dinner, everything was closed. The city mourned with flags and black clothing.
I was loosely told at the age of 11 what happened, and by loosely I mean I was told that bad men had crashed planes into important buildings in New York City. I was not told the death count, or about the wars that followed it. After that, I slowly got details from various people. By the time I was 13, visiting New York for the first time, I was able to visit Ground Zero and know what happened there. Seeing the area, the people crying there, effected me more than I ever thought it would.
When earlier this year, President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden, the man responsible for the horrors we as a country faced ten years ago, was dead, I admit, I was happy. Bin Laden being dead wouldn't bring back the people he had killed that day, but we hadn't given up on finding him. The people celebrating with parties I found a little disturbing, and really disrespectful, but I got it. Not only had he killed so many September 11, 2001, but he had made us feel us unsafe in our own homes. He had also taught young children in America new terms no kids should know, but way too many do, such as "terrorist attack" "Al Quada" and "Taliban", while teaching them that people do terrible things in the name of hate, power and religion.
However, today I would prefer to forget all that. Today, it's been ten years. Yes, we are still at war, but today isn't about that. While the heroes and the dead from the wars should be honored, today is about the people who were not involved in war, its about the people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not about the politics, not about what this attack started. It's not even about the attack. It's about the people who are living without a spouse, parents who lost a child, and children who grew up without a parent. There are way too many, and in the rage and blame, they tend to be forgotten. These forgotten people are the real heroes in my eyes, and deserve more respect than we can ever give them.
-teenageliberal
Some may criticize my parents choice not to tell me and my brother, who was four at the time. One woman actually told my mom it was "child abuse" to not make us aware of what was happening around us. Now that I am older, though, and know what happened ten years ago, and all of the horrors that followed, I am very grateful to my parents from protecting me that day. As an empathetic child, it would scare, upset and confuse me. That being said, they couldn't complete hide it. I lived in San Francisco. While my school had decided to hide it from the younger students, it was hard to miss the fear and sadness around me. When we tried to go out to dinner, everything was closed. The city mourned with flags and black clothing.
I was loosely told at the age of 11 what happened, and by loosely I mean I was told that bad men had crashed planes into important buildings in New York City. I was not told the death count, or about the wars that followed it. After that, I slowly got details from various people. By the time I was 13, visiting New York for the first time, I was able to visit Ground Zero and know what happened there. Seeing the area, the people crying there, effected me more than I ever thought it would.
When earlier this year, President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden, the man responsible for the horrors we as a country faced ten years ago, was dead, I admit, I was happy. Bin Laden being dead wouldn't bring back the people he had killed that day, but we hadn't given up on finding him. The people celebrating with parties I found a little disturbing, and really disrespectful, but I got it. Not only had he killed so many September 11, 2001, but he had made us feel us unsafe in our own homes. He had also taught young children in America new terms no kids should know, but way too many do, such as "terrorist attack" "Al Quada" and "Taliban", while teaching them that people do terrible things in the name of hate, power and religion.
However, today I would prefer to forget all that. Today, it's been ten years. Yes, we are still at war, but today isn't about that. While the heroes and the dead from the wars should be honored, today is about the people who were not involved in war, its about the people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not about the politics, not about what this attack started. It's not even about the attack. It's about the people who are living without a spouse, parents who lost a child, and children who grew up without a parent. There are way too many, and in the rage and blame, they tend to be forgotten. These forgotten people are the real heroes in my eyes, and deserve more respect than we can ever give them.
-teenageliberal
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