The End of the World as We Know It

The writer of The Reluctant Fundamentalist addresses the different struggles that Changez goes through.  One of the struggles is how he felt when he learned of 9/11 and another struggle is how he was treated and experienced as a non-American despite the fact that he lived in New York for four and a half years.

As people watch the towers fall, the most common reactions was probably shock, horror, or fright and the following behaviors was crying, screaming, or a sense of loss.  Changez had an unusual action while watching.  Instead of staring in shock, he smiled.  He’s not like Hitler of course, a crazed lunatic but like he said, his reaction was perplexed.

I don’t blame him for feeling that way.  I didn’t feel anything after hearing what happened.  I don’t know why I felt so detached.  It was like hearing news of a distant relative that you know but sort of don’t know died.

I knew that the towers falling were a momentous event because it meant that America was vulnerable, America is weakening as Changez puts it “…the symbolism of it all, the fact that someone had so visibly brought America to her knees.” I think that is why Changez did not feel sad or shock or frightened.    He had that in your face grin plastered.  He knew that Americans believed that they were so great and condescending attitude because they didn’t understand what it meant to struggle, struggle as an outsider.   He mentions the American condescension when he has dinner with Erica’s parents.  Of course, they probably don’t know how hard it is to struggle, to arise above all odds.  Those who have come to America dreamt of the vast wealth of America and want a piece of it.  When they arrive, they realize that they too have to work just as hard when they were back in their mother country to survive.

Another struggle he felt was how un-American he was when he went to Manila.  I don’t think it is uncommon for someone who is not Caucasian to feel un-American.  I never really felt American despite my growing up in New York for my whole life.  In my narrow and naïve opinion, what being American meant was being a Caucasian family living in the middle of a corn field with a house with a white picket fence.  Of course, I’m sure there is more than that to be American.