In Memoriam

Subhanallah, I can't believe it's been ten years. I was just a little sixth-grader, excited to be the oldest grade in our elementary school. I remember on September 11, my mom said that I could walk home from school by myself for the first time. During the morning Spanish class, my regular teacher calmly walked into the classroom and whispered something into the Spanish teacher's ear. She screamed out, "You're kidding! Oh my gosh!" Neither teacher told us anything for the rest of the day, but I immediately knew something wasn't right. During a quiet moment, I muttered a silent prayer: "Dear GOD, please let everything be okay."

At the end of the school day, as I walked out of the building, I noticed that there were a lot more parents waiting outside for their kids than usual. My mom was there, too, and I was confused and a bit annoyed, seeing that this was supposed to be the day that I asserted my independence. I asked her what was going on, and she said that that morning, people flew some planes into the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., and into a field outside of Pittsburgh. Not grasping the severity of the situation, I said, "Oh, man, I liked that building" (I had confused the World Trade Center for the United Nations building, which I liked because of its green-tinted windows). On the way home, my mom told me that there were people in those buildings, and a lot of them were killed. I ran to the television to watch the news, and seeing the towers collapse made me tear up a little. I was a bit embarrassed crying in front of my mom, but she said that she had cried too. I was still unaware of just how serious this was, but I knew that it was really, really bad. I went up to my room, unsure of what to do. I wanted to commemorate the date so that I wouldn't forget it, so I wrote on my Peanuts calender in the September 11 box a quote from the Children's Memorial in the Hiroshima Peace Park: "This is our cry, this is our prayer, peace in the world".

I also remember that the day before, new episodes of my favorite show had started up again. I was a bit angry thinking how now they were probably going to be postponed. Looking back, I'm not sure if the new season was supposed to start on September 10, or if it was just one new episode on September 10 and none following it. Nevertheless, it's kind of embarrassing thinking that I was so selfish as to be angry about not seeing my favorite show. I guess maybe I just wanted a sense of normalcy, something to watch instead of towers falling and people crying over and over again. For years afterward, I remember not being able to watch that episode that aired on September 10.

In the days after, we talked a lot about what had happened in school. It felt good to talk about it, especially with my friends and classmates, overseen by my exceptionally calm and sensitive teacher. I quickly realized that we were in the middle of a crisis, and that things were going to be different from now on. We lived only 2.5 hours away from New York City, and my parents and I actually were down there on September 7 for a Yankees game. I had wanted to stay in the city for the weekend, but we decided not to. To add even more immediacy and relevance to what happened, it turns out that Flight 11, the first plane to hit the World Trade center, changed its flight path and started barreling down towards New York right over my hometown; my friend Tiffanie told me that her mom noticed a plane that day following the course of the Hudson River, which doesn't usually happen.

How much has changed in ten years. The USA is fighting two wars, the World Trade Center still hasn't been rebuilt, and Americans became aware that we are not safe and immune from violence and sadness. I never, ever, ever would have thought that ten years later, I would be a practicing Muslim. I barely knew what Islam was until sixth grade, and when everyone started talking about how Islam and Muslims had caused the terrorist attacks, I was confused as to what to think about it. My teacher had us read a chapter in our history books about the Middle East, saying that it contained important information in it. The chapter included a section on Islam. After reading it, I remember feeling a sense of relief. Islam didn't sound so bad, and it sure didn't sound like something that would allow such savage violence. There was even a sentence in the section that said that Prophet Muhammad (saw) was especially concerned about caring for widows and orphans, which is what the news was talking about too. I thought, "Look, the founder of Islam, which is what the people who caused the attacks followed, says that we should be helping the victims!" I was excited to learn that Islam, in fact, was "normal" and not at all as scary as what it was being made out to be.

To the terrorists: I hate you for what you've done. You killed nearly 3,000 innocent people. You killed other Muslims. You killed CHILDREN. You've given Islam a horrible reputation, and Muslims have had to put up with your shit ever since. You may be Muslims, but you are not my brothers. Insha'Allah, you will get the justice and punishment that you deserve in the Hereafter.

These thoughts are kind of jumbled, but I wanted to acknowledge them on the tenth anniversary. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon. May ALLAH comfort all the survivors and the families of the victims, let us all receive guidance, let the perpetrators be brought to justice, and let there be permanent salaam in the world, Ameen.