4A • THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
OPINION
THURSDAY,SEPT.13,2001
TALK TO US
Kursten Phels
editor
864-4854 or
editor@kansan.com
Leita Schultes
Christina Neff
managing editors
864-4854 or
editor@kansu.com
Erin Adamson
Brendan Woodbury
opinion editors
864-4810 or
opinion.com/kansan
Jenny Moore business manager 864-4014 or adirector@kansan.com
Kate Mariani
retail sales manager
864-4462 or
retailales.kansan.com
Tom Eblen
general manager and
news adviser
864-7667 or
teblan@kanan.com
Matt Fisher
sales and marketing
adviser
864-7666 or
mfshler@kanan.com
THAD ALLENDER/KANSAN
Some Lawrence residents responded to the terrorist attacks with a peace rally yesterday outside Pickney Elementary School, 810 W. 6th St
In the shadow of the towers, someone always answered
It's Monday night. My roommates and I decide to have a slumber party. With movies and snacks, that's hard for me to pass up. I met Kahli this July when I was in Manhattan, N.Y. for a couple of weeks.
I was staying with a friend in Tribeca, on the lower east side, after backpacking in Europe for a month and a half. New York is an incredible place!
The buildings — glass monsters — towering above you, making you feel insignificant, yet important — because you knew you were in a place unlike any other.
I hung out with people from Jamaica, Turkey, Trinidad, Italy and people who had never left the city.
This city.
It has energy I have never felt before. A force, I can feel, pulsating through my veins. It speaks to me, unlike anywhere else I've ever been.
I would stand out on my balcony, taking pictures of my view. The streets that stretched for miles and miles — all of the cars, heavily seasoned with the yellow taxi variety, would wait, honking, bumper to bumper, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. It never failed.
The World Trade Center towers, close enough to touch. The biggest glass monsters of all. They stood out from the rest not just because of their height and red and white antennas, but because they were made of darker glass. They appeared to be stronger and more unique. I could silently stare at them, and stare at them...
Commentary
Akilah
YaDullah
Columnist
opinionaksan.com
During my last weekend trip in August, I stayed in that same flat as before, when I was first introduced to New York. I met some new people and caught up with some old ones, but didn't get a chance to see Kahli.
After returning to Kansas, I made weekend trips back to New York (my father works for Soutwest Airlines) once to the South Hamptons, and twice to the city.
So I wanted to call him tonight. On this Monday night. We had talked last week for hours, so I knew I had to choose the movie, or Kahli. And I chose
When I heard the news on Tuesday morning, it felt as if my heart and stomach had suddenly swapped places. I thought of my view from the balcony in Tribeca. I thought of all my friends living there. I thought of Kahli. He's more important than any movie He's real.
the movie. I could always call him Tuesday night, I thought.
Yesterday, things felt odd on campus. I couldn't even imagine what tensions existed in New York. My eleven o'clock class was canceled, so I rushed home and got out all of my phone numbers. I called Kabli first, then Connor, Damian, Tekela, Alex and Chris. All of their lines were down.
In a matter of minutes, my life had changed. And I still haven't been able to reach my friends in the city.
Life is too short. We often carry on with our lives, as if we're unstoppable. Invincible. But we're not. Waiting to tell people I care is something I cannot do anymore. We never know what's going to happen.
YaDullah is a senior injournalism from Overland Park.
Commentary
Leave nothing for our future generations to regret
Mike Wuthridge guest columnist opinionkansan.com
At 8:48 a.m., the first plane detonated within our carefree serenity when it collided with the side of the first World Trade Center tower — an unprecedented act of terrorism. By 11:20 a.m., I was in the Kansas Union watching international students being stared down and vilified because they had dark skin or wore a beard.
Should we be surprised by our response? Certainly in times of national crisis the appropriate reaction is to unify as a people and take hold of the issue at hand. Yet feelings of patriotism are often accompanied by the psychological phenomenon of "us" versus "them"—even when we aren't certain who "them" is.
Our society's concept of the Middle East is largely based on Hollywood and its incessant desire to create images of an extremist, Muslim terrorist for every action film. The bearded villain with a head covering has replaced the evil cowboys with mustaches and black hats from the earlier days of movie making.
As a former university student I was privy to numerous discussions of "unfortunate" American decisions throughout history, including the internment of Japanese immigrants during World War II. In fact, one of the dark secrets of Lawrence is that such a placement camp existed here during the war.
We do a good job lamenting our past mistakes, enjoying our "Monday morning quarterbacking" of history. Yet in our day, we as a society are so deplorably illiterate about the world and its cultures that the only reason we might not intern Japanese immigrants is that we can't distinguish them from the other nationalities in East Asia.
A day that was just like any other day until . . .
To place blame or feel threatened by the presence of Muslims on campus would be like feeling wary of the Dutch or French people for the atrocities of Hitler — they were all Christians, after all.
Let's honor our country and the reason for our national pride by leaving our children nothing to regret in the future. Instead of weeping over our injustices once we are removed from them, let's consider our attitudes and eradicate prejudice now.
I woke up at 9 a.m. I'd stayed up late the night before, catching on class reading. I dragged as I walked to class.
As I walked up 14th street, I passed a man shoveling gravel into a driveway. A television played nearby, loudly. I heard the voice of Peter Jennings, talking about the Pentagon. I wondered what had happened.
Do not attack, demean, ignore or brow beat people you don't know because they fit our horribly ignorant stereotypes. Imagine being an international student caught up in a world catastrophe like this, thousands of miles from home, and having the horrible misfortune of being singled out because you were born with darker skin.
Our University is a small model of our world and is privileged to represent every part of it. Let us truly then be a model for the world.
Wuttrich is a lecturer at the Applied English Center.
I dismissed my concerns as I walked on. There had probably been some attack in the Middle East, I thought. They have problems like that all the time. It was more important to get to class.
Clay McCuistion Columnist opinionkanan.com
Let me tell you about my day Tuesday.
Commentary
At 9:25, I settled into my chair in a Wesco classroom. I took my books out
and then listened to the conversations around me. The World Trade Center. Planes hijacked. Attacks.
My professor opened the class telling about his morning. He'd been immersed
After class, I bolted to the University Daily Kansan newsroom. The drone of CNN anchors filled the room. Students
in research earlier. He'd then heard of terrorist attacks on the East Coast. The World Trade Center had collapsed. The Pentagon had been hit.
What was happening? How could this happen here?
But he thought it was important to continue with class. I agreed. As we went through centuries-old plays, I turned his words over in my mind.
At the Kansas Union, dozens of students clustered around the big-screen TV on the dining hall level. The images on the screen continued. Dust. Explosions.
watched silently. Images on the TV screen showed clouds of dust, falling buildings.
I went by another one of my classes. Canceled. I turned in this week's paper and left.
Students walked the campus talking on cell phones. They held each other. Small groups huddled, conferring. It was quiet.
My friend Kim was sitting in the center of the group, her long red hair swept back with a bandana.
She'd come to her Latin class as clueless as I was. She heard students discussing the same things. She told them it sounded like the plot of an improbable action movie.
No. they told Kim. It was real
We sat and watched. We laughed in sympathy when a senator said he thought the U.S. would "get the bastards that did it." We talked among ourselves, asking the same questions the shaken white males on TV asked.
Why? Who did this? How many?
I went up a floor. Extra TV sets had been set up in the communal areas of the Union. Dozens more students sat watching. I talked with some of them. People worried about friends.More cell phone calls.
I eventually left, walked back to the newsroom. I sat down in a red chair, at a desk covered with wrinkled newspapers and printouts about sports teams. I wrote this column.
And that was my Tuesday
McCulition is a senior in journalism from El Dorado.
Commentary
Fouzia
Haq
guest columnist
opinionakansan.com
If you hate me disagree with my ideas,not my head scarf
Hate me. Hate me all you want. Hate me with every bone in your body. Heck, better yet, hate me so much that I'm not even worth your time.
But there is one thing I ask of you. Hate me for what you know I am, not what you think I am. There lies tremendous difference.
I wear a scarf on my head and have tan skin, so I must be one of the oppressed "Ay-rabs." I probably speak English with a thick accent, assuming I speak it. I'm probably a genius at organic chemistry, you know, just in case my country needs me for biological warfare.
You think you know me. You think you know of my kind. You've seen Not Without My Daughter, The Siege and a couple hours of Headline news. In fact, you may now even know me better than I know myself. So tell me, who exactly am I?
I probably have no self esteem, have never made a positive contribution to society, and was probably sold off to some old man with a thick mustache, at the ripe ol' age of 12 and am fully ready to submit to all that he asks.
OK, so who am I really? Well, first off,
though I do wear a scarf, that makes me
Muslim, not a nationality. And yes, Im
guilty, I do speak English with an accent.
My accent is derived from deep roots in the motherland of Brooklyn, N.Y. As for my organic chemistry skills, I really couldn't tell you because I fortunately dropped out of the class-from-hell before it could get a hold of my GPA. My self-esteem? Believe me, it's just fine. Oh, and we can't forget my thick mustached ol' man, well to quote Office Space, "Ummy yeah."
With all this said, I would most importantly like to say thank you. Thank you to all those who comforted me during my time of need. Thank you to my coworkers and my boss for making sure my family was OK. Thank you to all my fellow students that came up to at the end of classes because they remembered I had once told them I was from New York and had family there. Thank you to the friends that stopped by my room, and left messages for me when I couldn't be contacted.
I hope our retaliation is aimed at those guilty, not those caught in the crossfire, because today, I fully understand the true meaning of ignorance. My ignorance for living in my bubble and that overseas woman's ignorance for thinking violence is the solution.
My point? I am me. I am not that woman happily parading her children on CNN in some overseas country with a burning U.S. flag after watching the horrifying and inhumane acts that occurred in New York. I have a heart. I have a conscience.
For all those that glare with hatred, remember it is people like you, not people like me that commit these horrific acts.
I don't take comfort in seeing thousands of innocent people perish. Perish in any city, let alone the city that is my home. The city where I was born and raised. People I grew up with. People I'm related to. Buildings whose photos I hang up in my room. Buildings I've been in and have many memories of.
I can't indulge in politics; that's not my forte. But I can say, its ironic how we've become so callous to watching these tragedies occur everyday (even if not to this magnitude) all over the world, yet we as Americans are so egocentric to think that that could never happen here, but it did. My security blanket has been snatched away and my comfort zone diminished.
Yes, I am a Muslim and, I am assuming, so were some of those celebrating. But like any two people, we are each unique. Yes, we worship the same God and read the same scripture. Unfortunately, they have probably lived a life full of religious persecution, hatred, oppression, and may not know of any other way. Fortunately, I've had the luxury of a roof over my head, food on the table and the security of a great nation.
- Hag is a junior in psychology and communications from New York City and Kansas City, Mo.