The Illusion of Safety

I miss the ignorant bliss of my childhood.

I used to think my parents could save me from anything.  Nothing could hurt me as long as they were around.  A nightmare was forgotten by slipping under their bed covers.  The danger lurking in the alleyways of dark, secluded streets was chased away by clutching the hand that held you.

The other day I was walking down one of those streets alone when I realized that there is no such thing as real protection.  It doesn't matter who I'm with - my parents, my husband, my older brother - because life is unpredictable. Nothing can save you if it decides to suddenly throw you into a bad situation.

I think about walking down a similar street in the future, holding the hand of my own child.  They will put all their trust in me, as I did with my own parents.  And I wonder if I'll feel like a fraud, because they will honestly believe that they are safe with me, when all I can do is try my best to protect them.  And sometimes, in the worst of cases, your best is not enough.

Ultimately, the illusion of safety is more important for a child than harsh reality.  Some kids have lost the illusion too soon, and face harsh reality every day, but those are the unlucky ones.

As for us adults, we lost the illusion a long time ago.  Our eyes have been opened, the veil has been lifted.  We know what's out there now, so we compensate for our loss by purchasing alarm systems, taking self-defense classes, and being aware of our surroundings.  We can't think about it every moment of every day, or we'd go insane.  But on some nights, we get a reminder, and that's when we'll pick up the pace just to reach the "safety" of our home.

Unsafe in the City

I don’t feel safe here anymore. I definitely don’t feel safe working in New York City anymore. Before 9/11, we were living in a state of ignorant bliss. We were a privileged people, thinking that nothing could happen to us. We were citizens of the United States of America, and we couldn’t be touched. Now, we’ve become like the citizens of any other country who have been victims and witnesses of terrorist attacks.

I live with the fear that something terrible can happen at any moment: as I’m crossing the George Washington Bridge, on the bus in the Lincoln Tunnel, or riding on the subway. Now I will even feel it while walking in Times Square, even though I should have known all along that this largely trafficked area could be another potential target spot. And, although it’s definitely not as bad as before, I still get a little nervous whenever I hear a plane that seems to be passing a bit too low for my comfort. It will always be there now, this paranoia, and it’s sad because it was never there before.

Security is tighter now. I know that we are supposed to be grateful to the police officers that are doing their jobs in the city by randomly checking bags in transportation stations and terminals, and I am, but at the same time it makes me angry. It makes me angry because their presence somehow makes me feel like I’m guilty of something when I know I’ve done nothing wrong.

Every morning, I pass by them, praying that I don’t get picked to have my bag searched. I don’t have anything to hide, but knowing that they are watching me, deciding who their next victim is, makes me feel like I do. And sometimes, because I’m a preschool teacher working at a school that doesn’t provide me with many materials, I do have questionable items in my possession. For example, one morning in October, I was terrified that I would be stopped because I had to bring a knife and some sharp tools to work because we were going to carve a pumpkin that day. Also, every once in a while I carry small bags of flour in my backpack, for the kids to use at the sensory table. Imagine what a police officer would think upon seeing this, especially if I am of Colombian descent. Do you understand me now?

In many other cities, people are not experiencing this. I was talking to my friend, who lives in Pittsburgh, about this topic, and she says that there are no random bag checks, and overall, there is a general feeling of safety. Maybe I should move to one of these “safe” cities. Maybe I should move to Pittsburgh! Then I won’t have to worry so much about getting searched. Although, if Pennsylvania passes that Arizona immigration law, I may end up getting searched anyway. But don’t get me started on that!

Please don’t think I don’t appreciate the work that is being done to keep us safe here in the city. I do. I guess I’m just still trying to come to terms with the way we have to live now, as opposed to the somewhat carefree existence we used to enjoy nine years ago.