April 13, 2013 | Theatre,

The Decade Ignored

 

For practically all of my formative years, the war on terror has been another fact of life. I can remember my fifth grade gym class being brought to a halt as planes crashed into the World Trade Center. We stood numbly, 10 or 11 years old, in front of a TV screen displaying images that didn’t make sense unless it was in a movie. At that time, I had no way of comprehending the factual repercussions that a tragic event like that would have on this country and this world. And, for the most part, I was personally sheltered from those repercussions.

Just one month ago, on March 19^th, the U.S. passed the tenth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. I read a few quiet articles tucked into the corners of websites, most of which discussed the fact that the anniversary went largely ignored. A few newspaper articles and op-ed pieces were scattered here and there, but no monumental amount of attention was devoted to what has proven to be a monumental moment in our country’s recent history. I realized how long ago this all began: over a decade of war. It has been easy to not think about it on a regular basis because it seems so far away.

For those involved in the Trojan War, however, the effects of war could be felt every day for the ten years of fighting. The devastated wives and mothers and lovers in Trojan Women felt a battle raging outside their city’s walls or a husband missing from the dinner table. There are Americans who experience similar emptiness when it’s time for dinner, and thousands of Iraqi families are mourning for the loss of a loved one or the destruction of their city.

For many Americans, war is something heard about for seven minutes on the news, if at all. It’s not surprising that the tenth anniversary of the invasion would go largely ignored by mainstream outlets because it, much like the decade of events leading up to it, is easy to tune out. I think of my conversations over the past decade: how distanced has my life truly been from this devastating war?

When tragedy like this strikes, what should the response of our nation be? What does it look like for a whole country to undergo mourning together? Old-fashioned rituals for mourning have, by and large, gone out of style in our culture. Yet over 4,500 American troops have been killed in Iraq, and almost 100,000 Iraqis have lost their lives. Perhaps this is a time to follow the example of those women in Troy and mourn for what has been lost, to pause for a time of peace. Thousands of American and Iraqi families have been changed forever by an extremely personal death. What season of mourning and peace can they be granted?

We, like the Greeks, may be geographically distanced from the fighting. We may not look out at our city and see destruction and desolation, but we must still provide a space for the healing to being. I wonder if some of us are in need of that old-fashioned Greek catharsis. Trojan Women reminds us of what we may be ignoring. We enter a theatre where women on stage are mourning. Next door, or across the street, or in the seat next to us there may be someone in mourning too. That’s why this scene looks familiar. That’s why we must allow time for grief and support others in a process of healing. That’s why we won’t be able to watch Hecuba and Helen and Andromache and Cassandra and leave the theatre unchanged.