Fear & Our Shared Responsibility

Behind every person reading these words is a story, a deeply personal reason for why you are here, why you care, and why you are compelled to act. Maybe you’ve stood on a street corner holding a sign. Maybe you’ve called your local, state, or federal representatives. Maybe you’ve volunteered with grassroots organizations working tirelessly to protect our democracy. Whatever path brought you here, I believe each of us has been called to a greater purpose.

I grew up in a household that, for the most part, shielded me from hate, divisiveness, and cruelty. Adults around me never engaged in name-calling, and I was held accountable for my own behavior as a child and teenager. My early life was filled with love, encouragement, and structure, a privilege I did not fully recognize at the time. I had wonderful friends, family, and mentors, one of whom I’ve known since birth and who has been an unwavering source of support throughout my life.

Then came 9/11. I was a young adult, watching in disbelief as planes struck the World Trade Center. What struck me most, however, wasn’t the fear, it was the way Americans came together. There was an overwhelming sense of unity, of shared grief, and of commitment to stand for one another. That moment of collective resolve inspired me to enlist in the Army, driven by a desire to serve my country and protect the values I had taken for granted.

Looking back, I wonder if I was naive, or perhaps I was fortunate to have grown up in a bubble that insulated me from the ugliness in the world. There was turmoil all around, yes, but there was also a sense of stability and hope that shaped who I became. I recognize now that my perspective was shaped by privilege, and that awareness informs how I engage with the world today.

Over the past two decades, I’ve grappled with the long-term consequences of 9/11, not just the immediate tragedies, but the ways in which fear reshaped our nation. Did Al-Qaeda accomplish