Sunday night after I was finishing up a little work, I logged on to Facebook to see what was going on in the world. Who needs the news when you have Facebook?
It was then that I learned that Osama bin Laden was dead. At first glance, I wondered if I had gotten the date incorrect and maybe it was Veteran's Day or Memorial Day or maybe even Independence Day. People were changing their avatars to American Flags. Shouts of "USA USA!" and "RED WHITE & BLUE!" were all over my wall.
It was only a quick scroll, though, to find the news, which I cross-referenced with MSNBC.
I closed my laptop and walked over to the other side of the house where The Man was doing some computing of his own and I said "Osama bin Laden is dead."
And he was all "WHAT?!" and started googling.
I sat on the bed and looked over at him and asked him if it was un-American of me that I didn't want to celebrate. I couldn't figure out why I was melancholy. Why wasn't I jumping up and down and shouting and smiling? I mean... this was the goal, right?
But there was something grotesque to me about the joy I saw on Facebook, and Twitter, and everywhere else. I got it. I mean, really I totally GOT IT. But I couldn't feel it myself.
And yesterday I was talking to my mom and told her I wasn't celebrating. She pointed out that they celebrated when the towers fell.
But... why would I want to be like them?
It wasn't until I read this blog this morning that I think I really nailed down why I felt so uneasy about the national "Osama is Dead" party.
I want to quote the whole post, because it's really just that good and I hope you'll click over and read it. But I think my favorite part... my a-ha moment of choice... is this one:
When we hate, we cause hate. When we think we have won by vanquishing our enemy, we have lost. In killing Osama bin Laden, “they” lose because one of their leaders is gone. But we lose too, because we have deepened the causes and conditions that lead to more hatred and its consequences. This is not over.