I got downtown and went to the 9/11 service at St. Luke's in the Fields. So I've now heard three 9/11 sermons and I finally realize what is so dissatisfying about them. They're all directly addressed to congregations that have actually lost people, congregations with people who barely made it out alive or who otherwise directly experienced the events of That Day. And sitting in the pew listening to this extremely low-energy, dry sermon -- it wasn't just that they were Episcopalian, I mean this woman was speaking as if she were still in shock -- I realized what was going on. New Yorkers think the attacks of Sep. 11 happened to them. They feel a sense of ownership. Similarly, but even more strongly, the well-organized and vocal Family Members also feel a sense of victimhood. They think they totally own this event. It not only happened to them -- it is still happening to them.Well, if you had ash in your mouth for two months I guess you would take it pretty personally. But four years later I want to point out: It ain't only New Yorkers who got sent to Afghanistan and Iraq; the whole country has to suffer the unintended consequences of That Day.
This came to mind when I read Girlbomb's recent post in which she examined her still-strong feelings about the whole shebang.
Let me tell you something: Ground Zero is not yours. Were you here that day, that week? Did you see the smoke? Did you smell that smell? Did you walk around and see the posters, the desperate pleas for loved ones who'd never be seen again? I walked from the memorial in Union Square, past cops who checked my ID, into my building every day to see my downstairs neighbor's face on a flyer: Avnish Patel, MISSING, never coming back. The picture stayed up for a month.(To be fair, a followup post couple days later retracted the "Ground Zero is not yours" line.)
I love Erlbaum's fierce sensitivity and strong, hilarious writing, and she is right to insist on the genuine quality of shared tragic experience. It's true that I'm not a New Yorker and can't understand what it was like to be there and know my neighbors were slaughtered and a part of my city reduced to smoking ruins. I was in SF for the 1989 earthquake, however, and while the loss of life was not nearly as great, dozens of people were killed and a part of the city -- several cities, actually -- was reduced to smoking ruins. And I actually had a similar reaction when visitors asked where they could go to see the smoking ruins: Buzz off!
2 comments:
I think a big part of the ownership issue is a "not in our name" reaction when stupid shit like invading Iraq happens. (I'm a post 9/11 NYC transplant, of course, so this isn't my reaction so much as an observation of those who were here.)
You hear some psycho war monger from Virginia or wherever ranting talking-points de jure and then putting on the shroud of what happened here to justify it, and it rankles, especially knowing that most of the people here who lost people that day or were breathing the smell for months disagree completely with the proposed course of action. Then, of course, the war mongers start shouting "traitor" or "coward" and the thought that comes to mind immediately is, "who the fuck, exactly, are you to call me that? Quit using my tragedy for your petty political goals."
So, I'm not saying what you observe is wrong, really, but the reaction is pretty understandable.
--Jamie, who hasn't been visiting here as often as he should. Hope you're well.
=v= It was amazing in NYC right after the attack (and during the all-but-forgotten Anthrax mailings). New Yorkers were intensely friendly and very much looking out for one another. I've never seen anything like it before or since.
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