9/11: A Day for Tears
I saw the second tower hit on national television. I remember the shock, the utter horror at what I was seeing. I cried that day. Many people died, and that is tragic. That day was a step toward my political awakening though, and here I am 11 years later, a bit older and wiser. Instead of talking to you today about my memories of that day, and how it affected me however, I want to talk about something just a bit different.
I want to talk about tears. Do you cry? Can you look at the destruction and pain and suffering in this world, and not be moved? I cry. I don’t hide the fact that I cry. Crying is not weakness, no more weak than laughing. So let’s talk.
Who Cries for Them?
Today in the US there will be memorials. People will hold cherished photographs of loved ones passed on, and they’ll cry. The country, maybe even the world will cry with them. We’re all human. We know loss. Thousands of people lost their lives that day. But put that aside for just one little moment and answer these questions for me:
Who cries for the starving children in the US? The ones with the tattered shoes and the snotty nose?
Who cries for the Palestinian mother, as she clutches her dead baby against her chest, another victim of Israeli missiles.
Who cries for the children blown up by unaccountable unmanned US drones? The houses gone, the dreams buried.
Who cries for the 3 million dead Vietnamese, the victims of unprovoked US aggression? Their forests burned and decimated, their children maimed and killed.
Who cries for the thousands of US military dead? Their children missing fathers and mothers, their sisters and brothers bereaved.
Who cries for the tens of thousands of Chileans who perished at the hands of US backed Pinochet, after they overthrew the legitimate government?
Who cries for the thousands of victims of the so called war on drugs? The ruined lives, the shattered families.
Who cries for the Afghans, their country destroyed for a crime they never knew happened? Their villages ripped apart by foreign invaders.
Who cries for the millions of the homeless on the streets of America, as they shiver in the cold and rock back and forth humming to forget the crushing hunger?
Who cries for all the many endless victims of US aggression, war, imperialism, hubris, hegemony, and self righteousness? Who cries for all the victims, the millions and millions of victims of capitalism?
Where is their day of remembrance? Their monuments, statues and poems? Their hopes and their dreams and their lives? Forgotten, as forgotten as stock market price of sugar the day before the stock market crash. They’ve covered up their cries with commercials and Olympics and flashy parades.
Today, instead of watching the fake-patriot bullshit on TV, the meaningless speeches and the sound of bag pipes, I implore you to take just an hour to sit quietly in a library, or in your home, and read about one of the imperialist aggressions of the US against the people of the world.
Who knows, if you still have a heart, it might make you cry.