Dear Joe Biden: What do I tell my daughter?
My daughter was just 6 months old on September 11th, 2001. She slept in my arms as I watched in horror as the second plane hit the twin towers. My best friend from high school, an Egyptian American Muslim, emailed me from the basement of her office in Manhattan, terrified, wondering when she would be able to leave.
While anti-Muslim and anti-Arab sentiment grew rapidly in the country, I delved into history learning about why people hated the U.S. enough to be willing to commit suicide and kill thousands of civilians to bring attention to their cause. This was, for me, the time period when I first learned about the creation of the state of Israel, the subsequent wars and battles over the land, and the U.S. support of Israel in those battles.
The first president my daughter really remembers is Barack Obama.
She remembers my excitement around his run, and my elation the day after he won. Before she knew anything about politics or policy, she knew the comforting sound of Obama’s oratory — even keeled, intelligent, warm, and confident. While I knew that I didn’t agree with every decision Obama made during his presidency, I believed that he would grapple with the right things as he made tough decisions. All my daughter knew as a young child was that we had faith in him.
