Difficulties
Madrid, Beslan, London, Bali.(sigh)
New York, Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania.
Iraq. Afghanistan.
Every new attack, every new victim, create more anger in me. Anger, frustration, and fear that make me want to scream and shout with rage at the whole world.
This is an emotional thing, separate from rational thought. I'm aware of that. But in the meantime, the feelings are real and can not be denied.
I take security very seriously. At home, I have my handgun that protects me from the boogie man in the night. When I am out and about in the world on a daily basis, all I have are my gut instinct and my powers of observation. Needless to say, these two aren't all that comforting. A dead man can't testify, after all.
I can't get past the fact that all of the people (it seems) who want to destroy us fall into this very specific group. They are Muslim. Okay. How do I get past that fact and not feel goosy around members of this group? I realize that not all Muslims seek my death and destruction. But I also know that the ones that do don't wear a sign that says "Islamic Extremist Seeking Your Death" either.
I tell myself that these feelings are reasonable. After all, if you are bitten by a Rottweiler and chased up a tree, you fear other Rottweilers, not Cocker Spaniels. Right?
I fear the wider group of Muslims. I do. I'm not proud of it, I know it is not fair. I know that the vast majority of the group are peaceful people seeking to live their lives. I know this, but it doesn't change the fear.
If I am seated on an airplane, bound for Baltimore, when two 20-something Muslim men walk down the aisle speaking Arabic and carrying Korans, I am very alert. Very. Alert. I watch. I wait. I measure. Our politically correct indoctrination makes me feel guilty for all of 3 minutes before I realize that there is nothing I can do about it.
The very nature of terrorism is that it relies on attacks on the innocent for power. If you don't kill grandmas, grandpas, and little school children, your message doesn't have the same horrifying impact. I don't have to be rude or uncivil to become a victim. They have already decided if I shall die. So, there is nothing I can do to prevent it, save being watchful and ready to give my own life in the preservation of it.
These extremists are ready to lay down their lives in the taking of mine. I can't combat that with anything known to man. A man of conviction is a dangerous thing. Negotiation isn't going to work. I've read that it is a sin for one Muslim to kill another believer, but I'm not sure even that would stop them. It certainly doesn't stop them in Iraq.
In light of these facts and feelings, I've been known to sit on an airplane and brainstorm for possible weapons. I've been known to consider if the weight of my purse, or the spike of my heel could make any difference in a struggle for life and death.
Neurotic? Maybe.
But it comes from somewhere.
We weren't attacked by the denizens of the Land of Fluffy Bunnies, you know.
