Remembering the Forgotten: A Muslim Reflection on 9/11

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْم

In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful

Remembering the Forgotten: A Muslim Reflection on 9/11

On this day of remembrance, I refuse to let silence erase the truth. Among the thousands lost on 9/11 were Muslims—ordinary people with extraordinary dreams, who loved, who worked, who built lives in this country. Their names are rarely spoken, their stories seldom told. But I remember.

I remember Shakila Yasmin, only 26, and her husband Nurul H. Miah, 36. A couple married for just a year and a half, building a future together, working side by side in the World Trade Center. They did not wage war. They did not choose politics. They were simply living, simply loving—and they were taken.

Today, I honor them.

Today, I speak their names.

Because their memory is not less, their loss is not lesser, and their voices must never be silent.

Before the Towers Fell

Before those towers fell, I knew an America that didn’t hate Islam.

It didn’t even know Islam.

It was an America busy with baseball, catching up between NFL and NBA seasons, living in leisure, in entertainment, in its own world.

I was here before 9/11, and I remember a people who were simply living, not consumed by hatred, not drowned in suspicion.

And then came the morning the towers fell.

I was in college when the televisions came on, and what began as tragedy quickly became a nightmare.

I remember high school students being warned: don’t hate Muslims. Teachers and leaders knew what was coming—that fear and grief would be weaponized, that innocent Muslims would carry a burden we did not create.

The Hijacked Grief

What followed was not just grief, but exploitation.

America, the most powerful nation on earth, showed itself powerless in tragedy. Its people became victims twice—first to the collapse of towers, and then to the collapse of truth.

The grief of 9/11 was exported to Afghanistan, to Iraq, to millions of families who never stepped foot in New York City.

Victims became weapons.

Tragedy became politics.

And still, an empty heart and an empty soul linger in this country.

Those who weaponized that day, who traded blood for power, still laugh, still smile, still walk freely.

The Nightmare of 9/11

I cannot get over the betrayal that followed 9/11.

A New York Mayor fundraising on the number $9.11, turning grief into currency. Islam attacked. Muslims vilified. Discrimination normalized.

A Muslim name became a liability, a burden, a scarlet letter.

9/11 became a space where politicians found endless power.

Presidents came and went, offering quick, empty speeches, never staying long enough to face the mess they themselves created. They supported wars endlessly. They never sat with Muslims in this country. Never listened. Never cared.

A tragedy was turned into a nightmare.

And a nightmare is all that remains.

They took the bones of the victims, the names of the innocent, and carried them as banners into foreign wars. Afghanistan. Iraq. Endless killing. No accountability. No justice.

And we know who these people are.

The same ones who profited from 9/11 are now committing genocide in Gaza. Their hands are still full of blood. And criminals, no matter how powerful, always leave a trail that leads back to their own doorstep.

For me, for us, 9/11 is not just a tragedy of the past.

It is a nightmare that still breathes.

A nightmare that I cannot awaken from.

A nightmare that America refuses to confront with honesty.

And until truth is spoken, until victims are honored without exploitation, it will remain a nightmare—forever.

Closing Supplication

May the names of Shakila, Nurul, and every forgotten Muslim victim of 9/11 rise with dignity before God.

May their memory never again be silenced by politics or erased by hatred.

May this nation learn that grief is sacred, not a weapon.

And may those who carried tragedy into war, those whose hands are stained with the blood of innocents from New York to Baghdad to Gaza, one day face the justice of the Almighty.

For the oppressed, there is no nightmare that lasts forever.

God is the Turner of hearts, the Judge of nations, and the One who restores truth.