By Elizabeth Bennett
In the last two years, this is only the second time I''ve sat down and remembered September 11th - not the abstract, sad memories of a place I was not, but finding the concrete details that were part of my personal experience.
I remember where I was when I heard about the attack for the first time. I was standing on a street corner - the sun was bright and I was wearing khaki pants - I felt disoriented and uncertain whether to go to class or retreat home.
I remember walking around campus that day. The quad was eerily deserted and silent, but the Wilkinson Center was crowded with people watching the news coverage. The tension in the air was thick. It pounded into my head.
I remember there was no laughter on campus for two days.
I remember watching the news until I couldn''t stand it anymore. I remember every time I turned the news off I was back within a few minutes, grasping at the lifeline that connected scared Americans across the country.
I remember walking down the row at my apartment complex where the news seemed to blare from every television in every apartment.
But what I remember most of all is that first night, watching the news with my friends. I was on the couch and my knees were drawn up to my chest, and on the television were images of people, thousands of miles away, cheering and laughing in the streets.
Children rejoicing at the terrible death of innocent people.
'It should have been more,' one said. 'It should have been more.'
I remember how that image disturbed me.
It stayed in my mind and made it hard for me to sleep. It dominated my thoughts during class discussions. It permeated my conversations for days. It infiltrated my life until I couldn''t seem to stay still.
Even now, just remembering those jeering, cheering children turns my stomach.
'It should have been more,' gloated the child on the TV.
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About two weeks after the attack, I finally started questioning what culpability America owned in the devastation. My answers, like all answers to this question, were general and completely useless.
I thought, as Americans we are too careless, too hegemonic, too greedy, too nationalistic, too convinced of our own immortality. We have forgotten what it means to be small and without power.
And I thought, we have a chance now to change the world. To make it safer. To make it better. To make us better.
Looking back today, I see problems with my conclusion. I see problems I didn''t see then.
You want America to be safer? That means you have to change America. You want to change America? First you have to change your community. You want to change your community? First you have to change your friends and family. You want to change your friends and family? You can''t.
You can only change yourself.
Following 9/11, the world rushed into Afghanistan. We were going to win; we all knew it. We were going to stamp out terrorism, kill Bin Laden, beat the hate out of them and live in harmony.
We''re still there.
Following Afghanistan, the world rushed into Iraq. We were going to win; we all knew it. We were going to get rid of Saddam Hussein, change their country, make them understand and love us.
We''re still there, too.
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A few weeks ago, a friend of mine used the word 'Fag.' When I asked him not to, he said he felt no need to tread lightly on an issue he knew was morally wrong. Another friend used the same word just the other day in my apartment. When I asked him not to, he said he was sorry, but he wasn''t being serious and I shouldn''t take it seriously.
At BYU, I have heard words like 'retard,' and 'fag' used casually and commonly. In my experience, the users of such words have no real malice - they don''t intend harm to people with mental handicaps or to homosexuals. They don''t think their language causes real harm - but it does.
This is the language of hate. This is the language that dehumanizes, that causes fear and mistrust. This is not the language of a Zion people. This is the language that teaches little children to laugh and cheer in the face of human suffering.
When we talk about how 9/11 should have changed the world, we have to realize that means it should have changed us.