Back to September
Ten years ago I was sitting in a high school classroom conjugating Japanese verbs when there was a distant boom. Our teacher, Fujita sensei, a retired air force vet, remarked that it sounded like an explosion. We laughed it off and I wondered silently what in northern Virginia was worth bombing. Fifteen minutes later I found out.
Ten years ago, I knew nothing of politics. I knew nothing of the struggle for power and the insatiable human lust for domination and violence. But I knew, from the faces of my teachers, that the world had shifted; that there was no going back to September 10.
In the last decade, regardless of what politicians say in their memorial speeches, Americans have lived, more or less, in the shadow of 9/11. The heightened awareness—some might say fear—of terrorism led to a new government department, two intractable wars, and an ongoing Islamophobia. Words like “international terrorism,” “Islamic fundamentalism,” and “suicide bomber” are now common parlance. Only the death of Osama bin Laden offered some scant comfort to anxious Americans.
A Veiled Issue
I had my first encounter with a face-veil at age 16, greeting some African friends at Leeds-Bradford airport. A strapping Malawian man stood beside his burqa-clad wife and introduced themselves. Without thinking, I reached out and shook the lady’s hand, looking her in the eyes as I did. Then I recoiled slightly, and wondered if I’d made some colossal faux pas. However, nobody seemed to register this, and the group continued to chatter away quite happily. In fact, I engaged well with this mysterious woman in conversation, even though on parting I had yet to see any more than her eyes.
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