September 11, One Year Later

Usage of the American flag is an act of aggression.

UC Berkeley’s stance on prohibiting use of the flag on September the 11th 2002 to many seems verging on treason however for many others it holds some weight.

It came somewhat late, exactly an year later when I felt that despite my all American appearance, education and attitude, the fact that I was brown had laid the responsibility on me to prove that I was not in bed with Osama. I could buy that by shelling 97 cents for a red whit and blue American flag embossed on a cheap coffee cup(made in China) not sharing the American aptitude for all things big and super sized, the only use I could imagine for the monstrosity would be to use it to pour water over my Muslim ass after a dump (which is really inappropriate).

The night prior to September the 11th 2002 while trying to do a trick on my bike I inadvertently crashed it busting my knee and wrist in the process. Eager to resume a normal life I rushed to the Sports Authority the next day where a really nice humble bike technician fixed my bike (thanks Alan). ‘I love Americans, most of them are so sweet and helpful’ I whispered to my companion someone that also from a region which shares the atmosphere with the axis of evil and thus by affiliation ‘evil’. Proceeding to the checkout line to pay for the extra bike lock I bought (bikes in most third world countries are left unlocked but in the Capital of the Super Power they get swindled by the second… ponder on that). ‘ Here keep this mug to show your patriotism, only 97 cents’ the braided haired fellow behind the counter shoves it towards me as my attention is diverted by the slight limp in his free wrist. ‘No thanks’ I reply with raising my eyebrows and accompanying them with a smile. ‘It’s only 97 cents, show you love America.’

Considering myself a New Yorker courtesy of college, work and having abodes from places in the UWS to Union Square, I was already wearing my colors, a t shirt with Brooklyn and Queens written across it. In spite of the fact that I am not an American what happened on September the 11th 2001, hurt me in more than a few ways. I had worked in the WTC, lived three blocks away and was interrogated under the anti terrorism act a week later in Heathrow for 4 hours (the tea at the interrogation room sucks). I had felt anger I did not knew exist against the hijackers who hijacked much more than planes that day and now a year later it was clear that they had landed perfectly.

‘Where do the 97 cents go? Is it for charity?’ even if they money were to be used to buy snuggle fabric softener for the undies of war wary Israeli Defense Force so that when they bend to shoot the four year old their privates still feel comfy then I might have thought about it twice. The fact was that the money would go to no such charity but in the coffers of corporate America. The memorabilia salesmen by ground zero do disgust me but they are making a living, my buying the cup would just add to some loss hiding overpaid CEO’s bonus (no direct assault on you Marthy). There I was at this juncture, to prove to this… this thing that I was against the attacks I had to support his little sale. A middle aged white man waits behind me to buy his golf balls. The braided hair guy beckons him to buy the cup, he politely refuses and is not nagged about it, he doest have to prove that he gets wet dreams about Mullah Omer, I do!

‘Show this man your patriotism’ I am requested again, as the middle age man in an alter state of his own walks away. ‘Dude if it were for a charity I would buy, otherwise its pointless’ and signing my receipt I walk away. Heading out through the doors I hear ‘I know why you don’t want it’. That man had already made his conclusion.

Should I now make mine about Americans?