Countering September 11Th Anger Stories

Countering September 11th Anger Stories

On September 11, 2001, I was nine. What I remember most of the day is how scared the teachers at my school looked. Even as they were whispering among themselves and attempting to hide their red eyes and raw noses, they absolutely, resolutely refused to tell us anything other than we were all going to be o.k. In looking back, I can see that the teachers were trying to reorder the world (RC 327) as a safe place for children and for themselves. With a similar thought of healing in mind, that night my mom told me to pray for everyone who died that day, including the pilots and their families.

But a look at the songs that became popular after 9-11 reveals that these stories of forgiveness and healing tended not to make it into the nation’s “master narrative.” Instead, my generation and I were being initiated “into the lore of the tribe” (RC 327); specifically, we were being told that although a few terrorists few the planes, we were to hate an entire nation/region/religion. If we didn’t, we weren’t real Americans.

One of the most popular songs that sends this message is Toby Keith’s 2003 country song entitled “Red, White, and Blue” (Appendix A.) He describes the events of this day this way: “Now this nation that I love / Has fallen under attack / A mighty sucker punch came flyin’ in from somewhere in the back.” In other words, the terrorists were cowards who would not dare to take on the U.S. in a fair fight; their only chance against the Red, White, and Blue was a cheap trick. The innocence of the U.S. justifies his violent response. Rather than suggesting that the U.S. turn the other cheek and focus on mourning and healing, Keith pumped us up as a “big dog” who “will fight when you rattle his cage, and you’ll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A. ‘cause we’ll put a boot in your ass. It’s the American way.” Keith completely ignores the vulnerability Americans felt, no doubt because he perceives honest emotion as weak. But did Toby Keith serve in Iraq? He did not.

I thought “Not Ready to Make Nice” (Appendix B.) by the Dixie Chicks might provide a more nuanced definition of what it means to be an American after 9/11 because lead singer Natalie Maines wrote it after she made anti-war comments at a 2003 concert in London and received death threats. But this song is actually very much like Keith’s in its message of justified blinding anger: “I’m not ready to make nice / I’m not ready to back down / I’m still mad as hell, and I don’t have time to go round and round and round. / It’s too late to make it right. / I probably wouldn’t if I could / ‘Cause I’m mad as hell / Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should.” Granted, the song is describing anger over a perceived violation of the first amendment right to free speech, and I agree that this is wrong, but I also believe that flying planes into buildings is wrong. Is anger and retaliation an American’s only options when facing injustice? It would have been nice had Maines mentioned something about the folks who actually died in that wwar, on both sides, and the necessity for a free nation to be able to voice dissent.

In my quest for an anti-war story, I considered “Imagine” by John Lennon, but it was released in 1975, and I wanted something written about 9-11 specifically. So I asked my anti-war, pacifist and all-American mom to write down her experiences of that day (Appendix C.). Her story represents for me an American counter-narrative—a story that bucks the trend of anger and revenge. For example, she writes that on the evening of September 11, “there were religious services all over town, but I didn’t want to go and hear some preacher telling me that the Bible tells us “an eye for an eye,” so we went to the Unity Church—it’s sort of a New Age, hippy dippy place, and I knew they would be kind and focus on the task at hand which was to grieve. And they did. But it was like a band-aid on a severed leg—if you turned on the news, it was one person yelling or another about revenge. I don’t think we’ve stopped yelling since.” I know that my mom also protested against the war in Iraq, but we all know how successful that was.

Still, living with someone who so clearly disagreed with the majority allowed me to see that there are lots of narratives being crafted that maybe make you feel strong and brave and proud, but it’s a good strategy to be a bit skeptical of any story that strikes just one main note.

Appendix A.

Toby Keith, "Courtesy Of The Red, White, And Blue (The Angry American)"

American Girls and American Guys
We’ll always stand up and salute
We’ll always recognize
When we see Old Glory Flying
There’s a lot of men dead
So we can sleep in peace at night
When we lay down our head
My daddy served in the army
Where he lost his right eye
But he flew a flag out in our yard
Until the day that he died
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me
To grow up and live happy
In the land of the free.
Now this nation that I love
Has fallen under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flyin’ in
From somewhere in the back
Soon as we could see clearly
Through our big black eye
Man, we lit up your world
Like the 4th of July
Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty
Started shakin’ her fist
And the eagle will fly
Man, it’s gonna be hell
When you hear Mother Freedom
Start ringin’ her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue
Justice will be served
And the battle will rage
This big dog will fight
When you rattle his cage
And you’ll be sorry that you messed with
The U.S. of A.
`Cause we`ll put a boot in your ass
It`s the American way
Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty
Started shakin’ her fist
And the eagle will fly
Man, it’s gonna be hell
When you hear Mother Freedom
Start ringin’ her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue

Appendix B.

“Not Ready to Make Nice,” Dixie Chicks

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it
I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
What it is you think I should
Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

Appendix C.

Mom’s 9-11 Story

Well, on September 11, 2001, I was getting ready for work with the Today Show on in my bedroom. When the first plane hit one of the World Trade Center towers, I thought I was seeing a trailer for a movie, like Die Hard 20 or something. But then they played it again, and I realized it was real, and I can still recall such tremendous sadness, like a hole had been punched into the atmosphere and innocent souls were being sucked out, leaving behind heartbroken people who loved them so much and had no time to say goodbye. I thought, it would be better to be killed instantly, like the folks in the Tower, than to be on those planes with time to be utterly confused and then terrified, geez, flying past skyscrapers in New York, pretty sure that this was it.

Somehow I got dressed and headed in to work, listening to the car radio on the way. In the parking lot, people were walking like zombies into work. And it just got worse and worse: another plane flew in to the other Tower, and then we knew it wasn’t an accident, and then a plane hit the Pentagon, and the Towers fell, and people were leaping from the Towers to their deaths. I don’t remember knowing about the flight that the passengers took down that day, but at that point the pile of sadness I felt was toppling me over. And then I heard a co-worker say that we should just “nuke ‘em all,” and I had to run to the bathroom to throw up.

And then I thought about you at school. I couldn’t get through on the phone, but then I got a robo-call that the schools were letting out early. When I finally got to you, I remember hugging the stuffing out of you and thinking that I wish I could put a bubble around you and keep you safe, not really from people flying planes into buildings because I figured in a little Texas town, how likely was that, but from all the meanness that I knew was coming, and all the violence that comes when people act on that meanness.

That night there were religious services all over town, but I didn’t want to go and hear some preacher telling me that the Bible tells us “an eye for an eye,” so we went to the Unity Church—it’s sort of a New Age, hippy dippy place, and I knew they would be kind and focus on the task at hand which was to grieve. And they did. But it was like a band-aid on a severed leg—if you turned on the news, it was one person yelling or another about revenge. I don’t think we’ve stopped yelling since.