Twenty-five years later, September 11 remains much more than a date. It is the absence of someone at a table, a call that never came back, a goodbye that no one imagined would be final.
The deadliest terrorist attack on U.S. soil left 2,977 people dead. Behind that number were families, plans, and futures that terrorism stole.
Latinos are also part of that absence. A preliminary count published in 2002 by New York health authorities recorded 258 Hispanic fatalities at the World Trade Center: 177 men and 81 women.
Remembering them means restoring their place in our memory, not claiming an exclusive share of the suffering.
Because that tragedy was universal. It struck us all, though in different ways. A mother’s pain doesn’t change according to her last name; The absence of a father is no less painful simply because he was born in another country. No life was more important than another.
There were also Latinos among those who chose to help when everything seemed to urge them to flee. Firefighter Sergio Villanueva, born in Argentina, went to the World Trade Center and died there. He was only 33 years old. He loved soccer and was engaged to be married: behind the uniform was a life to build.
Puerto Rican William Rodríguez, a maintenance worker, used his master key to open doors and facilitate the firefighters’ work. His story reminds us that you don’t always need a badge to help.
Colombian police officer Will Jimeno participated in the rescue efforts and was buried under the rubble. He survived. In his testimony at the 9/11 Museum, he highlighted something that deserves to endure: people helping one another.
This anniversary is a recognition of our shared humanity, capable of responding to cruelty with solidarity.
The mark of the attack is etched into our daily lives. Today we’ve normalized security lines, body scanners, and limits on liquids when traveling by plane.
The Transportation Security Administration (TSA) was created after 9/11; other measures were implemented in response to subsequent threats. It didn’t all begin that Tuesday, but that Tuesday transformed our understanding of security and our freedoms.
Remembering should serve to better protect life, not to accustom us to fear or turn our neighbor into a suspect.
Honoring Latino victims is inseparable from honoring all victims. Twenty-five years later, the most urgent lesson remains that in the face of the hatred that sought to divide and destroy us, our best response is to recognize ourselves as part of the same human family.
