Osama Bin Laden dead? I felt like the last to know. While the story of the decade broke on national news channels, international news outlets, and facebook,
was baking chicken. When I emerged from the kitchen, after a nearly three hour date with my oven, it seemed as if everything had shifted. Bin Laden was dead? Yes, and America was reacting.
Some, like myself, exhaled an elongated sigh of relief, grateful that the search was over, and hopeful that it would signal the end of myriad wars, some sketchy from their inception.
Other people displayed their excitement by ululating shouts of joy. Others gathered in the streets, waving the U.S.A. flags clenched in their tightened fists. Some even threw parties. Reactions varied, but were strong.
But as celebrations have ensued, and presidential approval ratings have improved, I have been left feeling more un-American than ever. I see no cause to celebrate death upon death. I see no point in celebrating "justice" after injustice. Do I think it's better that Bin Laden is dead rather than alive to continue to kill? Absolutely. But I can't rejoice. I can't today. I won't ten years from now.