Gandhi Fellow Fatima Bawany Reflects on 9/11

Bismillahir rahmanir raheem; with the name of God, most gracious, most merciful.

            For me, September 11, 2001 seemed like any other day. As always, my third grade class went through our writing exercises; as I was practicing my cursive, suddenly, our teacher received a phone call, and grew very silent. Immediately, he turned on the TV, and cries of confusion and wonderment filled the classroom as we watched the Twin Towers crumble to the ground, surrounded in dark gray clouds of smoke. As an 8-year old, I didn’t quite understand what the images meant, or why the eyes of the people onscreen were shining with fear, and my frustration only grew when the same footage was on every TV channel at home.

            I realized the next day how directly 9-11 would affect me; at lunchtime, one of my classmates determinedly stood up, pointed at me, and loudly declared, “Fatima. If I ever saw one of your people, I would shoot them right in the middle of their turbans.”

            Throughout the rest of the day, my mind was buzzing with questions and ideas, sparked by confusion, anger, and fear. Who were these people, these strangers, who had twisted my religion, one of the most influential forces in my life, into something evil and monstrous? The Muslims I knew were people I admired, people who inspired me with their love and kindness: my parents, my teachers, and my friends.

            In the next few years, Islam faced attacks from all sides of the political and social spectrums; at the same time, though, people grew more curious to learn about the faith that seemed so controversial. I resolved that the only way others would open their eyes to the peaceful and beautiful truth of my faith, a truth that was apparent to me, would be if Muslims, including myself, took on an active role in educating others as well as themselves about Islam, through their actions, words, and character. I became heavily involved in interfaith work, seeking out opportunities to build relationships based on an exchange and appreciation of another’s experiences. I began to observe the hijab, the Islamic way of dress, eager to strengthen my personal connection with God, while acting as a clear symbol of my faith.

            As a result of my efforts, and those of other Muslims and non-Muslims alike, I saw my peers begin to understand Islam more clearly, to the point where my friends would quickly reprimand anyone who even suggested that Muslims supported violence. The Rochester interfaith community is unique in this sense, eager to celebrate and explore differences rather than suppress or criticize them. It is this quality that must carry us into the future; on this tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001 we must make a decision: will we let ourselves be consumed by the negativity and hurt that resulted from 9-11, or will we accept it as a challenge and emerge from it stronger, on both a personal and community level? In the end, how we deal with this tragedy, and how we let it affect us, will decide whether we strive for a brighter future, or live in a painful past. 9-11 was a shocking and heartbreaking event for all Americans, and it is through remembrances and dialogues that we will come together as a community and unite in the face of hardship, striving for healing and supporting each other. Our nation was able to bond together against intolerance in the past, with the civil rights and suffrage movements; today, interfaith understanding presents a beacon of hope for Americans of all generations, and just as we have in the past, we shall overcome.