9 Opinion
September 9, 2013
American hypocrisy: mourning 9/11 while ignoring Syria Cynthia Jeub
cjeub@uccs.edu
My sister is six years older than me, and she’s visiting the United States for the first time in more than two years. Since I last saw her, she married a man from Syria, converted to Islam and has been sharing a tiny apartment with her husband’s Syrian family in Turkey. Her story is hers to tell – I don’t know all the details. What I do know is I’ve been wrong about the peaceful Islamic people. I was like most Americans after 9/11 – I was horrified by the terrorist act. With its anniversary this week, we remember our own 12-year-old terrorist horror better than we’ll feel for the innocent people
who lost their lives and family members and homes a little more than a week ago. Unfortunately, the end of August 2013 isn’t the first time Syria has suffered loss. We’ve barely heard anything about Syria in the media until recently. When I graduated high school in 2011, I knew about Syria because it was on the list of countries following Egypt and Tunisia in revolution. But even Iran tried a small rebellion, which Iranian President Ahmadinejad quickly crushed, so nobody really knew which countries would still be going to war two years later. Due to civil war, 100,000 Syrians have already been lost. It’s monstrous and tragic, and my sister and her family have been living elsewhere since her wedding
in December. The only reason we’re hearing about it now is because chemical weapons were used, and chemical weapons are a no-no in world politics. As a coworker put it, if the U.S. doesn’t get involved, it’s like a parent threatening to punish a child for misbehaving and not following through. So why should college students care? If you know anything about 9/11, you know the whole country was reeling from a single terrorist attack that killed 3,000 people. For the Syrians, it’s the same thing happening only on a larger scale. Most of the refugees don’t even have homes to go back to anymore. While I don’t have a solution, I do
know we have to drop our xenophobic categorizing of all Muslims as bad because they’re not. Most of them are peaceful, and they’re dying, and they’re refugees. My sister’s husband isn’t even visiting the states with her. The reason? He was given a hard time about getting a passport because he’s Syrian. I’m not asking for political involvement or intervention. Honestly, I don’t think that’s what we need right now. I’m asking for this: smile at someone wearing a hijab today. People who have Middle Eastern connections through their heritage and religion are going through a lot right now. You don’t know who’s here because they’re running from a home and a life they may never have again. S
When I finally got here, I thought my dreams had come true. Everything was a struggle, but that’s what I was expecting. (Isn’t a quest for the Olympics always a struggle?) I did everything else right – I listened to my coaches, did everything they told me and practiced every chance I got. Even when I got injured, I pushed through. When I still didn’t meet my goals, I changed coaches. Finally, the worst happened. On Aug. 25, I failed my senior freeskate test, despite completing all the required elements. It felt like a slap across the face that even at my best I didn’t meet the necessary level. I changed coaches, thinking that this was the solution, that this would finally push my skating to the life-long standard I held for myself. As of yet, it hasn’t.
I won’t be competing at regionals this year. I’m 20, which is relatively old to still be skating. It’s almost ridiculous to think that my family spent $60,000 per year on my skating while I gave up the opportunity to study at a school with my major of choice. It’s frustrating and disheartening to realize that my fondest dream may never come to fruition. But I don’t regret it. For all the condescending comments from a coach, there were words of praise from others that I will always cherish. For every time I collided with a world champion and fractured my rib, there was the joy at winning the pewter medal at the 2013 U.S. Collegiate National Championships. I love the mountains here in Colorado, the opportunities that come from an outdoor-focused state. From a tiny, sleepy
steel town in Western, Pa., I’ve been able to witness the diversity of this state. I chose Colorado. And while my journey has not been what I had hoped for, it changed my life in other – arguably better – ways. My license and registration are in Pennsylvania, but I’m registered to vote in Colorado and spend most of my time here. In a lot of ways, I seem confused, but I also know that I am here because of my choice. Now, I seem to be a native of two states. I’m going home, I say whenever I leave Colorado. In Pennsylvania: I’m going back home. In all our life, we make choices about what we care most about. And while they rarely turn out as we envision, we learn from them and they ultimately shape our lives. S
Colorado ice skater’s hopes frozen, then re-thawed Crystal Chilcott
cchilcot@uccs.edu
I’m from Pennsylvania. I don’t have to be here – in fact, there are quite a few reasons why I wouldn’t want to be. Tuition is more expensive, the climate is not what I’m used to and the traffic here is just terrible. I moved to Colorado three years ago to figure-skate at the World Arena Ice Hall. I was 17, a senior in high school and didn’t know anyone in the entire state. Since I was 12, I had been frustrated with the recreational hockey rink at which I trained. I begged my parents for the opportunity to skate at an elite center. I used to stay up all night constructing PowerPoint presentations telling my parents all of the reasons I wanted to move 1,542 miles away from home.
Someone didn’t turn in their story on time. Luckily, it’s online for you to see.
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