Ten years ago today my city as I knew it was destroyed. Since that day that looked just like any other until the epic horror of it revealed itself under incredibly clear blue skies, we've been asked to never forget. Thanks for the directive but I most certainly can't. Who could forget sitting at your desk and watching a live-action version of a Michael Bey film happen outside your window? Who could forget watching an entire segment of a city crumble before your eyes? Who could forget the silence of the city save for sirens, for days after. Who could forget get the anxiety or the feeling like you might die if you don't get away? Of keeping a pair of kicks under my desk everyday after in case I might need to run for my life again?
I don't need to be reminded not to forget. And I certainly don't need opportunistic politicians slandering my city and then racing here today for photo ops. Furthermore, I don't need some hick from back woods wherever talking about how much the utter destruction of my home effected them. Because I know it's fucking bullshit and I don't want or need fake ass platitudes. It galls me that the scene of the murder of over 3,000 people is a tourist destination where you can get souvenirs. The ghoulish carnival-like atmosphere that has been created by the media along the branding and selling of that day to manipulate our emotions to further an agenda is disgusting.
Because in the end it's not about any of that shit. It's about people whose fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, children, & friends left for work one day and never came back. It's about how this day is a reminder of all that they lost. Asking them and all of us in this city who lived through that day to never forget is condescending and most of all insulting.
No comments:
Post a Comment