I was 23 years old the morning I got on
the 1/9 subway line from 235th street station down to Christopher
Street and 7th Avenue. I was basking in the calm and quiet that is
the West Village in early morning beginning anew and recovering from the rhythms
of the previous night. Small Ecuadorian men were washing and sweeping the
sidewalks clean, keeping up appearances outside hot spots such as Babbo
Ristorante and charming four-story brownstone residences where wealth resides
and poverty sleeps overnight on its stoop.
The contrast is striking; it always is in major urban playgrounds. The
lines of vulnerability are not often blurred and everyone knows their place. 5th
avenue and Washington Square north was no exception; until that morning. That
morning, everyone was vulnerable.
September 11, 2001 was my first day of classes as a transfer student at
New York University’s then Ehrenkranz School of Social Work (NYU). Walking to class that morning I was not
consciously thinking how entering the academic and professional world of social
work would change my life or how the sense of a plane “flying low” would change
thousands of people’s lives. Moments
later on the corner of Washington Square North and University place word
instantaneously spread that a plane was indeed flying low and hit a building
–the world trade center.
In disbelief, a group of us rushed to 5th avenue and
Washington Square North and at the crossroads of extreme wealth, sickening
poverty, starving artists, underserved domestic workers caring for others’
children, inquiring academics, and international passersby – in that moment,
the portrait so often photographed through the outline of the arches with its
iconoclastic shapes and romantic visions were awash. Beyond the historical Washington
Square Arch I stared in disbelief at an unthinkable an unimaginable sight. A
sight so unimaginable my brain could not comprehend the unfolding atrocity that
would forever make its mark on our individual and collective histories. Amid
the confusion, noise, chaos and unfolding reality that the United States was
under attack by terrorists, I clearly heard our school’s faculty members mutter
to one another, “this is going to change our profession forever.” Those words felt profound, daring and
prophetic, but at that time I couldn’t imagine how.
I have held onto those seemingly prophetic words for nearly a decade,
though throughout my academic and clinical career I have only seen glimpses of
how I expected those words to manifest.
In obvious and direct ways the NYU social work faculty as well as
neighboring schools and community social workers participated in provided
crisis counseling, assisting with victim services and relief efforts of various
sorts. There was no shortage of
volunteerism, and I was aware of our faculty and the social work community at
large working tirelessly on behalf of the victims, survivors, City of New York
and our country. The obvious applications
of social work was apparent in providing trauma based therapeutic
interventions, concrete social services such as navigating survivor funds in
years to come and assistance with benefits, shelter, clothing, food, etc., and
shortly in subsequent years research and literature supporting our knowledge
base of trauma work. However, I had a
sense that this attack, this literal crash would shift perspectives and
consciousness as to the environment and global world that we are now living and
working in as social workers.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this sad anniversary.
ReplyDeleteThank you for taking the time to read the post. It is my intention to honor the countless lives impacted by the September 11th attacks, 11 years ago. May all their memories be for a blessing and a source of daily inspiration to create a more just and peaceful world.
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