A quarter of a century, and yet the vicious, vivid, overwhelming sights and sounds resonate in my mind as if it were yesterday. Nine-Eleven, the fear, the frantic fumbles, the paranoia, the worry, the unknown smothering most of the time, frustrating all the time, demonstrating just how fragile life in this nation really could be.
Enemies were created, scapegoats imagined, and trust was pushed far behind distrust, with confusion over who was friend and who was foe. Conspiracy theories flourished; the news seemed like propaganda; no honest appraisal of our current situation seemed to find fruition. We seemed lost and oh so much wanted to be found.
That was the year 2001. It is now 2026, and from my point of view, so many of the feelings and emotions I felt way back then have reformed, re-emerged, been re-invented. Conspiracy theories regarding who the Other is (Immigrants, The Trans Community, Muslims). Distrust of anyone who is not white, Christian, or male. Propaganda flowing freely from the Trump Media machines, never focusing on the crimes and grift of members of the Trump Reich, but on anyone who is not them. Fear of what might come next: which nation will be bombed, what tariffs will be expanded, who really should be able to vote, and who should be denied.
Planes were flown into skyscrapers; then, buildings imploded; lives were almost immediately ended, and now lives are being ruined; crumbling foundations of democracy are everywhere, but this time, this year, 25 years later, the terror is not coming from across the oceans but emanating from Trump and a cadre of billionaire terrorists.
Was there a lesson we were supposed to learn? No, seriously- no snark on my part- was there a lesson to be learned to help us heal? I wonder. To those who became heroes, to those who still mourn the loss of those they loved, I remember you.