DIRECTOR’S PROLOGUE Note: The image you are seeing is a 'makeshift' from a story through the eyes of one of the survivors. Please respect my creative habit as I unveil their perspectives of what had happened that day. Thank you.
During the weekend of September 7-10, 2001, Susan Jackson, a renowned Deaf theater actress, invited me to be a guest speaker to kick off their first ever film festival presented by Illuminations Arts in Houston, Texas. Illuminations Arts is an organization offering a myriad of artistic activities for Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing artists based in Houston, one of which is showcasing films by Deaf filmmakers. There have been speculations of who hosted the first Deaf film festival, so let me set the record straight.
Here’s what I know: Illuminations Arts was the first Deaf Film Festival to showcase films by Deaf filmmakers for the Deaf community. According to filmmaker/author, David Pierce, of Houston, Texas, California State University of Northridge (CSUN) held the first Deaf film festival in 1978. I never knew that because there is no record of that ever occurring, not even on any search engines. Anyway, all other film festivals, deaf or hearing, went and followed this model. Since then, it exploded, spreading from state-to-state.
On Monday, September 10, I was scheduled to fly back home. I remember changing my flight to a later time so that my assistant could leave the George Bush Intercontinental/Houston Airport before I took off. There was a 5-hour gap between our flights. Since I’d invited my assistant to join me there, the least I could do was to hang out, keep her company and let her leave first. (I always travel with an assistant to any speaking engagements or film screening presentations.)
Before 9/11, traveling by air was never that complicated -- we didn’t have to take our shoes off; toss out all our liquids, personal objects they considered hazardous or threatening before boarding the plane; arrive two or three hours before departure to check in; become paranoid that some terrorists will board the plane and find yet another way to take it over or blow it up; or get frisked and checked as thoroughly as we do now.
It’s an awful thing to deal with every single day because, I admit, I’m probably one of the many Americans who used to scrutinize an Arab person’s every move. They became the victim of racial and ethnic profiling. I understand how that must’ve felt because I am African-American, yet this was the fear and paranoia instilled in me by the terrorist and religious Extremists who happened to be Muslims (…or so they said).
Speaking of fear, we have never ever lived in an era of National Threat Advisory alert codes from the government. At one point, it becomes a continuous orange “High” alert for weeks or months at a time, but now it’s steady at the yellow “Elevated” level.
Who knows what tomorrow brings? We had freedom, maybe too much. But now, our freedoms are coerced, limited, dictated, and perpetrated by, and partnered with, the terrorists and the United States Government, whether we like it or not. It’s a repugnant mind-power game that we have to live with when it comes to our safety.
Anyway, when my assistant left, I remember waiting around the busy airport for my flight, wishing I were home, in bed, because I was extremely tired from the big weekend’s events. (I hate the waiting part.) When they announced that it was time to board, I quickly collected my belongings and was the first in line. I just told them I’m deaf, and they let me through. I put my portable luggage in the cabin and found my seat by the window. I settled in and put my seat belt on. I had a moment alone, then, to pray for a safe take-off and landing -- it’s a thing I do when I fly, and I still do it to this day.
Whenever I travel, I make it a habit to give my family my flight information and travel dates, just in case something unfortunate happens to my plane…you never know. God forbid, if anything does, or if I ever tempt fate… (It’s a bigger, powerful force of energy than us, and, yes, I believe in it.)
While the plane was in the air, I took an eye-break from working on a project, my first feature film assignment inspired by my nephew, an aspiring rapper who passed away a couple months in May. I looked out the window, thinking about him, wondering where he was. I missed him, and he was only 22. The universe was pitch-black. All I saw was lights, coming from one of the wings from the plane. (I’m just amazed how they can fly this thing and be able to see where they’re going. It’s a gift.) I finally arrived home safely around 9PM. I had a safe flight, and so did my assistant. We both were VERY fortunate.
The night was quiet as I remember it, like any other night. I lay on my bed to watch some television, and then quickly fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I was visited by a very strange recurrent dream…
It was very vivid and disturbing. Well, in my dream, there was a sequence of raining blood, lots of blood scattered about, and body parts strewn all over the place. I didn’t see any horror movies recently that would’ve propel this bizarre visit. It was as if it was like floating in the air or something, in slow motion.
That was it. That’s all I remember, no visual image correlations before or after it, but that. It was overcast and didn’t make any sense. It was surreal. It was persistent, and I had no idea why I was having these dreams.
Suddenly, something woke me up. I had my pager under my pillow. A good friend of mine, Alaina, paged me to tell me that, “… plane hit twin tower...” Her sentences weren’t completed and worse, I was half-asleep, disoriented. It was almost like this was also part of the dream. I replied, “What the hell are you talking about? You’re not making sense.” I thought, ‘if‘ that did happen, it had to be a small propeller aircraft, and that it was a minor accident or something. I just went back to sleep. A few minutes later, my pager went off again. She said, “Jade, I am not making this up! Another plane hit the tower. It’s terrorism! Finished! Turn on your TV. This is real!” Bam! This made me jump out of bed. What! This can’t be…
I quickly fumbled for the remote control on the floor and turned on my TV to see that she was right. I switched channels, and all the networks were covering the infamous attacks on American soil. I turned on my computer. My goodness, my friends were instant messaging me, paging me from all over the place to check on me, even friends from Europe. Some knew I was traveling. I couldn’t reach my family through relay after dialing repeatedly. I checked CNN news on-line. This whole thing is f**king real. Unbelievable! Wow… I was… appalled, in a state of disbelief. This was a rude awakening for America, indeed, a vision gone awry. I was petrified, thinking about how lucky I was to not be flying on that day. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Was this a dream? Is any of this connected to MY dream? Maybe this isn't it, or maybe, there's an impending massive catastrophe than this and we won't know when it's coming, and we need to prepare...? Who knows...?
Was I prescient for predicting only hours earlier that all of this would happen? This sent chills up my spine. I shared this dream with my good friend, Guthrie Nutter. He couldn’t believe it, either. He thought I’d predicted it would happen. He’s someone who can sympathize with the deeper sense of life. Some people would call it, “channeling”, a metaphysical means of communication from a higher dimension. It comes from natural ability, so did I have this gift specifically? I am aware of my other gifts in other areas. Some say, you are either born with it, or you aren’t. Some also say, Fate selects those who can handle 'Special Assignments,' because, they can handle them and others can't. They were put to the test.
I’d never told anyone else, not even my family about this visit, except for my sister. They wouldn’t understand my dreams. They’d have their own interpretations about my dreams, and about 9/11…I was raised in a Christian household. Anyway, would I have had the power to stop it, to tell anyone? Of course not. Yeah, right. They’d think I’m a lunatic… Well, after holding it in the back of my head for five years now, my recollection of this dream is still fresh. So, I decided that I am disclosing the encounter of my dream in print, rather than a video version of it and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. I do feel that there are other people who will benefit, and maybe there are other people out there who may have had similar encounter the night before or days before 9/11- or even months.
Why did these images cross the threshold of my dreams? What was its purpose…? What did it want…? What was it trying to tell me…?
I remember thinking to myself that I HAD to do something. I remember telling Guthrie, “Why don’t we give blood? Maybe help some kids at school, maybe help someone who was lost or hurt.” A million things raced through my mind about HOW I could help but help how? Where do we go? How do we get there? I had a bike that time, but, I thought, “No, too risky.” We were two concerned Deaf people who felt helpless wanting to help. I went up the roof of my apartment building facing south to see if I could see smoke coming out of the buildings. I could see it. I videotaped some of it. God… those people in the building…
Before the city announced a major lockdown, I decided the best thing I’d do is get the hell out of New York City and go to my sister’s house in nearby New Rochelle to be with my family. I took several things with me, in a sense of post-emergency preparedness: my PowerBook (laptop), video camera, my two-way, flashlight, overnight bag of clothes and personal stuff, money and important documents. I was fortunate that I didn’t have a pet. Well…he passed on in 2000. He’d have gone berserk if I had to take him with me because you can’t control a Springer Spaniel.
Anyway, as soon as I stepped outside into the streets, everything changed. The MTA was giving free bus rides for stranded civilians. Metro-North was also available and running on a limited schedule, so, I took the New Haven (Connecticut) line to my sister’s. Some people were crying, others in dismay or a zombie state. Many, like myself, were leaving the city to go further north, to get away from the madness. The reactions on people’s faces were like something you’d see in the movie, “Dawn of the Dead.” I had my video camera with me that day, but I was too stunned to videotape anything. I “became” them, numb, doomed, discombobulated--like lost souls. I wouldn’t make a great journalist -- I should be documenting this, interviewing people, documenting their reactions to these horrific events, but I didn’t. I felt helpless, wondering and questioning the dreams. It was just ambiguity.
When I got to my sister’s, she wasn’t home yet, though my nieces and nephews were. They were so happy to see me. The reality of 9/11 was less impacting to those living up north than it was for people living in the city, and, even though it was televised a million times over, or broadcasted repeatedly over the radio, it’s not the same. If my family lived in the city, they’d be more deeply affected by the chaos there, by the burning smell of flesh and metal, overcast sky, and the death in the air, than they were up in suburban New Rochelle or else where.
The next day, Wednesday, September 12, 2001, I decided to go back home after waking up to an empty house. My sister went to work and the kids went to school. Anyway, to make sense of my dreams, I decided that I’m going to do something about it. I announced a vigil gathering in Central Park that evening for the community to come together and support each other in our time of need. Prior to that, I went on a bike tour with my video camera for a couple of hours to document the events at the World Trade Center. I got as close as I could, which was Canal Street. Eventually, I made more than 20 trips to Ground Zero for information during the past five years.
See, it wasn’t my intention to make a movie about September 11. I was in pre-production for another project, within days of what would have been principal photography in October 2001. At the time, I had no idea if any of this is coincident to my dreams before 9/11. Now, I think I do. I am constantly amazed at the progress, because, sometimes, I do not have subconscious control over my artistic direction or my destiny. Sometimes, I try not to question it; I just act on it…perform it…make it happen…and see what happens. Productivity produces results—seeing your Art come alive, whether from a dream, personal experience or other incident. “I am responsible for the things I do. I make things happen.” That’s my motto, and I live by it. “If it didn’t work out, do it again or try something else.”
Some of us respond from something based on what we believe or see. My vision was a premonition of something that hasn’t happened yet, ”visualization,” but this wasn’t exactly a visualization of my dream. I was “invaded” in my sleep. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to know instantaneously. Maybe I was to find it, solve it, and embark upon it. That is what life is all about, my life as a filmmaker. That’s the story of my film. Nevertheless, I shall let my story unfold by itself…
My documentary exists as a result of a dream, a vision I had a few hours before the tragic events actually took place. Let the merits of my film decipher my dream’s purpose.
Yes, there will be controversial issues, several interpretations, doubting, and different beliefs. Then again, maybe there will be none. It depends on who believes and who doesn’t. It’s my anecdote based on testimonials from the perspective of Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing people -- human lives responding to different situations that I can’t control. I can’t please everyone.
Subsequent to the tragic September 11th events at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and Pennsylvania, our lives have changed forever.
September 11, 2006, marked the fifth anniversary since the attacks of the World Trade Center. September 11 is, and will always be, a controversial, topical event unresolved with new findings and developments for as long as we live.
Today, we still do not even know the real naked truths behind the attacks of September 11. No one knows. Was 9/11 an inside job surreptitiously orchestrated by the government as part of a conspiracy? For what? Oil? Greed? Politics? Corruption? Weapons of mass destruction? Did the government use fear to manipulate us? Was the Iraq War a cover-up to divert us from the truth about the 9/11 attacks? Was WTC7 a controlled demolition by the government? A plane didn’t touch that building, so why did it collapse?
So many stories, so many of them vague, distorted publications, some untrue or misleading. We’re left with so many questions unanswered. Only President Bush, the Administration under him and his ties with the Saudis can answer that. Will he ever? A façade puppet leader with the administration backing him -- I honestly don’t think he will.
People have told thousands and thousands of stories about the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, about losing their loved ones inside the commercial aircrafts and inside the Twin Towers. They have conveyed their feelings and thoughts of how a hideous crime perpetrated by the Extreme Nationalist Parties violated human lives and affected us all in many different ways. Moreover, at its core, it’s simply because of political and religious principles.
Through so many stories told, albeit that we’re Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing people, we can identify with and share a common bond with them; we are citizens who get scared and experience fear, but only in silence. Our surroundings are based on what we see, not what we hear. Yet, these so-called social political movements also known as the fundamentalist parties who endorse mass destruction and mass murders aren’t something we can fathom nor ever comprehend – all of this hatred inflicted upon us. Still, to this day - we often ask ourselves: Why? Why us?
Furthermore, speaking of human bonding, how well does the hearing populace understand the silent world we live in? Why do we as Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing people sometimes feel that we are often forgotten or neglected? Maybe in their eyes we appear different, outcast or, maybe, because fate has designed our destiny, maybe we are here on Earth to teach them something? We do not live our lives in a world that depends phonetically and audibly on an environment of sound -- it is THEIR world, not ours.
As a filmmaker, I often find myself asking hearing people a simple question - “how many Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing people, whom they knew, perished in the World Trade Center?” Typically, their responses would be, “I don’t know of any.” I expected them to say this, because it’s an answer coming from people who are clueless and ignorant. That is why I produced 9/11 FEAR IN SILENCE: THE FORGOTTEN UNDERDOGS, and it’s a story that must be told globally.
A LESSON FOR THE ‘IGNORANT & CLUELESS’ HEARING PEOPLE:
Imagine yourself living in a world of silence when it all happened: Picture yourself being stuck inside an elevator with no access to communication; stuck on a bridge when a police with a bullhorn tells people to make a U-turn and go back; stuck under the subways or in an unmoving subway car with the power or lights out; a terrorist plants a biochemical agent under the subway station or there’s a fire happening and you’re on the 85th floor at your desk or, worse, in the john, not knowing you HAD to leave the building or the subway station, and everyone else had received the evacuation warning, and left. I ask that you take a moment to assimilate this list. Have these thoughts registered in your mind yet? Good. Then, welcome to the day-to-day lives of the Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing citizens around you.
Every day, we read about or hear on the news of a “September 11” disaster in other countries or states. On October 11, 2006, a small plane crashed into a high-rise apartment building, also in New York City. Sure, this was not a terrorist act; just an accident…but was this yet another cover-up? What was the Federal Aviation Administration thinking, by now, 5 years after 9/11, still not banning any planes from flying low-altitude? None of this makes any sense! This is a joke!
The question always arises: HOW SAFE ARE WE IN THIS CITY? 9/11 is one of the worst events ever to happen right where we live. This will bring to light that we are American civilians, just like everyone else, and we need to be included in American life, too. When this comes to our safety: evacuation designed safe areas under the subway stations or in any buildings, 9-1-1 accessible emergency procedures, emergency preparedness for immediate evacuation, first response in emergency care sensitivity training, communication barriers, information on alert systems, accessible emergency communication and notification, the Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing people will not be forgotten – we’re not going to be treated like second-class citizens any longer.
Some of the Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing leaders are sleepers, in denial. We need to wake up and join forces. Toppling ignorance and increasing awareness through our stories by educating the world about our adversities is the only way, through the power of media documenting facts, through documentary or narrative filmmaking approach.
This is our reality. We need to tell our stories again and again. We are an overlooked population of people who need to be treated as equal citizens. It ends here… Join us in the fight for Equal Access and Equality. Are you ready? This is your rights as an American. Your children and your children’s future will suffer if you don’t. Stand up for your rights!
Prologue written by Ann Marie "Jade" Bryan
Filmmaker/Visionary/Advocate
"People who shut their eyes to reality simply
invite their own destruction."
-James Baldwin
© Copyrighted November 2006
This prologue is a copyrighted material and is the property of Jade Films, and may not be duplicated, broadcasted, rewritten or redistributed without permission from the author.
TEASER (2 minutes)
TRAILER (3:12 minutes)
No comments:
Post a Comment