Today is September 11, nine years since the most important September 11 in America. Nine years ago, I was in my sixth grade classroom in Philadelphia, watching the twin towers fall on television, and hearing what were probably my first Arabic words - al-Qaeda, madrassa, Taliban.
Today, I'm in Cairo. I just had a two hour Arabic lesson, and most of what I've learned is coming back to me - I can ask questions, speak pleasantries, excuse myself, and ask everyone's age. We've been around our neighborhood, we're going to the pyramids on Monday, and the weather has been surprisingly comfortable.
But we can't go out tonight. Because this ignorant, hateful pastor in Florida has apparently communicated with the State Department that he might still go through with his Quran burning, and our program has to follow the State Department travel advisory warning, which currently tells all Americans abroad in Arabic countries to be very careful and confine their movements.
On this day, which is certainly a sad memorial, but also to me in so many ways a celebration of how far I have come, and how far my generation is going, it makes me angry and sad that we are all being held back by this man. He is wielding fear from an ocean away that keeps all of us from exploring, communicating and learning.
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