103
103
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(Central Catholic High School, Toldeo, Ohio.)
What can I do to help? Why is the local news interviewing us? I want them to interview me, but they continue to skip over me. What would I even say? Would I tell them the truth? They never did interview me that day and to be honest, to this day, I wish they had given me the opportunity to comment on the terrorist attacks.
I recall that day I was in homeroom, among other 16-year-olds waiting for our daily announcements, when the teacher turned on the television and we all watched the horror of two planes hitting the towers. I’m not sure I even knew what was really happening, but I could feel the tension and fear in the halls as we changed classrooms. I made my way to English class and the television was replaying the images. My English teacher, Mrs. Bohl said she could no longer watch the news. a She was the kindest and gentlest teacher, but that day, she had fire in her eyes. She gave a speech and one comment stuck with me. She said:“the United States has a beautiful velvet curtain, but behind that velvet is steel and the world will now see what Americans are made of!” I was right along with her, thinking “yes, you will see what we are made of.” I was moved deeply in my core by what she said, but I was not sure whom we or I was going to ‘show’ what America was made of. I just knew I wanted to be part of this movement and I wanted to be strong for my country.
As the dust settled and we Americans learned who was behind the attacks, I was perplexed at the conversations and comments I overheard; “Fu--ing Arabs”, “Sand Ni--ers”, and I’ll spare you the rest. As an American of Arab descent, this was such a challenging, confusing time to figure out my role in these conversations.
People said awful things, but I understood because we were all angry at what happened. I was angry too! In the midst of America’s anger, I wanted to quietly say “Arabs are nice and kind people”, but who could I say that too? There was not one person I could say that too. If I said that would people think I’m a terrorist? I was 16 years old, so being self-consciousness is a constant, but then it doubled for me. Not only was I a 16 year old trying to figure out life, but I was an Iraqi-American who lived in the United States during 9/11. Not a good time to be Arab in America. I didn’t say much about being of Arab descent, or having lived in Iraq for a short period of time, but I did have a lot to say; I just didn’t know how or what was appropriate. I began to learn how people viewed me.
During Math class, I was being teased by one of the students because I had a fake tattoo on my arm, it was really popular in the 2000s...I promise. It was a series of numbers on my forearm and he said, is that your terrorist prison number? I was shocked he said that, then hurt, and then pissed! I was consumed by this wave of anger and frustration, I didn’t know what to do or say. What could I say? Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, I remember we were on the third floor in our high school and the windows were wide open. The birds chirped in the background and the sun was covered by the shade of the trees. I looked to my left and the windows looked so inviting, just calling me to their edge. I looked back at him - the individual who accused me of having a terrorist serial number - and picked up his open backpack,, walked over to the window, and threw it outside. Papers and books spilled everywhere on their way down and I was happy! He called me a name that starts with a B and tried to take my backpack, but I immediately put it over my shoulders and held my ground. The whole classroom was shocked, to include me, but that day changed me. I knew I would never accept comments like that and realized I had some fight in me. Did I really just throw his backpack out the window? Yes, I did!
I knew then that I had to do something bigger than myself to help. Help who? Help how? I didn’t know at the time, I just knew I had to help with something important. The voice inside me continued to pursue this ‘help thing’. By my senior year of high school I found myself meeting with my local Air Force recruiter and the rest is history.
To the student who called me a terrorist, thank you! You lit a fire in me that has not stopped and pushed me to serve the most amazing country ever...the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Though that was a terrible day in high school, I am grateful for that moment. I wholeheartedly accept your apology and thank you for reaching out this year to apologize. Despite all the years passing, it did make a difference. As you said, “what is an apology without action?”
Please remember those who lost their lives on September 11 2001, all the lives that were affected in so many ways on that fateful day, and all the men and women who were the steel behind the velvet.
What can I do to help? Why is the local news interviewing us? I want them to interview me, but they continue to skip over me. What would I even say? Would I tell them the truth? They never did interview me that day and to be honest, to this day, I wish they had given me the opportunity to comment on the terrorist attacks.
I recall that day I was in homeroom, among other 16-year-olds waiting for our daily announcements, when the teacher turned on the television and we all watched the horror of two planes hitting the towers. I’m not sure I even knew what was really happening, but I could feel the tension and fear in the halls as we changed classrooms. I made my way to English class and the television was replaying the images. My English teacher, Mrs. Bohl said she could no longer watch the news. a She was the kindest and gentlest teacher, but that day, she had fire in her eyes. She gave a speech and one comment stuck with me. She said:“the United States has a beautiful velvet curtain, but behind that velvet is steel and the world will now see what Americans are made of!” I was right along with her, thinking “yes, you will see what we are made of.” I was moved deeply in my core by what she said, but I was not sure whom we or I was going to ‘show’ what America was made of. I just knew I wanted to be part of this movement and I wanted to be strong for my country.
As the dust settled and we Americans learned who was behind the attacks, I was perplexed at the conversations and comments I overheard; “Fu--ing Arabs”, “Sand Ni--ers”, and I’ll spare you the rest. As an American of Arab descent, this was such a challenging, confusing time to figure out my role in these conversations.
People said awful things, but I understood because we were all angry at what happened. I was angry too! In the midst of America’s anger, I wanted to quietly say “Arabs are nice and kind people”, but who could I say that too? There was not one person I could say that too. If I said that would people think I’m a terrorist? I was 16 years old, so being self-consciousness is a constant, but then it doubled for me. Not only was I a 16 year old trying to figure out life, but I was an Iraqi-American who lived in the United States during 9/11. Not a good time to be Arab in America. I didn’t say much about being of Arab descent, or having lived in Iraq for a short period of time, but I did have a lot to say; I just didn’t know how or what was appropriate. I began to learn how people viewed me.
During Math class, I was being teased by one of the students because I had a fake tattoo on my arm, it was really popular in the 2000s...I promise. It was a series of numbers on my forearm and he said, is that your terrorist prison number? I was shocked he said that, then hurt, and then pissed! I was consumed by this wave of anger and frustration, I didn’t know what to do or say. What could I say? Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, I remember we were on the third floor in our high school and the windows were wide open. The birds chirped in the background and the sun was covered by the shade of the trees. I looked to my left and the windows looked so inviting, just calling me to their edge. I looked back at him - the individual who accused me of having a terrorist serial number - and picked up his open backpack,, walked over to the window, and threw it outside. Papers and books spilled everywhere on their way down and I was happy! He called me a name that starts with a B and tried to take my backpack, but I immediately put it over my shoulders and held my ground. The whole classroom was shocked, to include me, but that day changed me. I knew I would never accept comments like that and realized I had some fight in me. Did I really just throw his backpack out the window? Yes, I did!
I knew then that I had to do something bigger than myself to help. Help who? Help how? I didn’t know at the time, I just knew I had to help with something important. The voice inside me continued to pursue this ‘help thing’. By my senior year of high school I found myself meeting with my local Air Force recruiter and the rest is history.
To the student who called me a terrorist, thank you! You lit a fire in me that has not stopped and pushed me to serve the most amazing country ever...the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Though that was a terrible day in high school, I am grateful for that moment. I wholeheartedly accept your apology and thank you for reaching out this year to apologize. Despite all the years passing, it did make a difference. As you said, “what is an apology without action?”
Please remember those who lost their lives on September 11 2001, all the lives that were affected in so many ways on that fateful day, and all the men and women who were the steel behind the velvet.
9/11
Terrorism
Iraq
To See a World in a Grain of Sand
Patriotism
Edited 5 y ago
Posted 5 y ago
Responses: 42
42
42
0
Maj Alea Nadeem Thank you for sharing your frist-hand experience with that day in September 2001 and how blind we as a people (American People with all types of ethnic backgrounds) can be when something like this happens. I had many Arab American employees and one Director of Operations in Chicago that was from Iraq and it never crossed my mind to lash out or be mad at any of those great Americans. I enjoyed everything you shared and I'm so grateful for your service to this country Alea! May we never forget those we lost on that day and those who sacraficed Post 911 in service of our country.
(42)
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This right here is truly amazing! I think we often forget that the war on terror is NOT the war against the Muslim faith. For many, I'm sure they were just as confused, lost and pissed off as everyone else but as highlighted in this article, were silenced by the hate.
This article serves as a beautiful reminder that 9/11 impacted countless people.
This article serves as a beautiful reminder that 9/11 impacted countless people.
(37)
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31
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All of us who served (and are old enough) remember exactly where we were that day. I never really thought about how some of us who served were treated like the enemy at that same moment. Thanks for the valuable perspective Maj Alea Nadeem and for all you do / have done in service to our country.
(31)
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