8 years later

Yesterday the 9/11 anniversary hit me a little differently than it had in past years. I think because as I drove to work, I listened to NPR coverage of President Obama giving his memorial speech, and September 11, 2001 seemed like so much longer ago than when Bush was still president. Listening to coverage of a different president memorializing in his own way, in his own tone, struck me somehow.

On September 11, 2001, I was a 14-year-old high school freshman. I heard the news over the intercom while taking a test in my second-hour theatre class. I was reasonably politically aware at the time, having followed the 2000 election. As I watched TV and listened to radio that day and that week, I was deeply troubled not only by the tragedy of senseless deaths but also by the rampant patriotism that followed immediately. I watched President Bush speak that week and I knew that the violence, the tragedy America had experienced would only be forced onto others.

I reacted very strongly against that. As America became cohesive in a way I'd never experienced, I ran from the cohesion. I hated President Bush. I hated Americans for their flag-waving and racism and war-drum-beating. I stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance and turned my back on flag when the National Anthem was sung. I even stopped wearing red shirts with jeans lest my outfit be confused for patriotism.

I remember hearing when the attacks on Afghanistan began. I didn't cry on 9/11, although I was shocked and upset. I cried on March 19, 2003, when the US invaded Iraq. I was in the car on the way home from church when the news came onto the radio.

I grew up, and remain, Mennonite. My religious background is deeply rooted in pacifism and is opposed to nationalism, giving allegiance only to God. I didn't have a reason to own those beliefs until 9/11 and the aftermath. For the first time, the values of peace and peacemaking meant something, and my church's rejection of nationalism made sense. The US was the victim of a senseless act of violence, and it perpetuated that violence. I knew it was laughably unrealistic to expect the government to undertake a peacemaking process in the aftermath of a terrorist attack, but I wished.

9/11 opened my eyes in a lot of ways. I radicalized in response, and while the radicalization has been tempered, the critical thinking and the willingness to hold an unpopular opinion because I believe it's right remain intact.

8 years later, my faith means a lot more to me. So does my country. I still won't pledge my allegiance to the flag or to the republic for which it stands, because even if my allegiance isn't entirely with God, I sure want it to be. But out of respect I'll stand and silently face the flag, hands by my sides, when the National Anthem is sung. I can silently face that flag knowing that it is the flag of a country that does a lot of things right and a lot of things wrong, but I can respect it. I can't reject everything about the US, because want it or not, it is my home and my culture, and there are good things about it. I can criticize, and reject, what I do not respect. I can make that distinction now.