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June 23, 2004 Back in the days when I was, for a brief while, a high school teacher, I remember overhearing a conversation among students in my homeroom that had to do with personal privacy and rights. The year was 1995 and things on the American home front seemed to be good. The conversation was begun by a girl who had had fifty dollars stolen from her gym locker and had a good idea of who had taken her money. She was incensed and had threatened to go to the principal to have this person’s locker and handbag searched. She fully believed she had the right to have this done to recover her money. One of her classmates told her what she wanted couldn’t be done, that it was illegal. Someone else disagreed. The conversation got pretty heated with kids taking sides as to what was legal and what was not. Finally one of the boys present, whose parents were both lawyers, said that searching someone’s locker and especially their hand bag was a violation of their privacy. He went on to state that our right to privacy is protected by the Constitution and that a search could be made only if authorities had a “reasonable suspicion” that you were hiding drugs or something that could endanger yourself or others and, sometimes, not even then unless they had proof. His statement infuriated the side that felt that the law enforcing authorities could subject anyone to a search, simply on another person’s complaint. However, he was cheered by those who felt that, no matter what, our privacy as citizens of the United States is absolutely guaranteed by law. In their innocence they felt totally justified and assured that their privacy was safe. So did I. ,br> Flash forward to June, 2003 and the airport at Tampa International in Florida. My husband, Alan, and I, returning from vacation in Sarasota are taken out of the security line and told that our carry-ons are going to be searched and that we ourselves are going to be “electronically searched.” A male and female, wearing uniforms, accompany us to a glass enclosed “holding area” that is visible to everyone passing by. We are told to take our shoes off, (I am wearing dress sandals, no socks), and, while our footwear is being checked, we are told to stand, arms outstretched, legs apart. I ask for my sandals back so I won’t have to stand on the dirty carpet in my bare feet and after a whispered discussion between the man and woman, the sandals are checked and returned to me. They separate us to search us and we are then told that if the handheld electronic device being passed across our arms, up and down our bodies, and between our legs, beeps we will have to be patted down in that area. I am wearing a short summer skirt and I feel uncomfortable with my legs apart. Even though I know they will find nothing subversive on me I am upset by the “patted down” statement. My skirt has three decorative buttons in the front below the waist, I don’t think they are metal, but if they are, and the searching device beeps, will she pat me down? I really don’t like being touched by a stranger, security or not. I glance over at Alan who has had to unbutton his shorts and fold over the waistband so security can check him. He gives me a husband’s encouraging smile and makes a “hey, its okay honey” face to me. I smile back but I am upset that his underwear is visible not only to the guard but to passersby. My buttons do set off a beep and I am also made to fold over my waistband for inspection. I do not want to be patted down so I am told that I must pull my skirt away from my body so the female guard can peek inside. I experience two feelings at once: the first, that I am so glad I didn’t wear a pair of bikini pants today and the second, absolute anger that she is looking down my skirt. After we have “passed” inspection we watch the male go through our carry-ons, my handbag, and a gift wrapped baby present. I am asked about a packet of pills, clearly labeled birth control. We are finally told we can go through. I feel upset and, uncharacteristically, on the verge of tears. We travel a great deal and, even over the tense situations of the past two years, have never been subject to this type of search. I feel violated. Alan steers me towards an airport Starbucks and orders us two large frothy, calorie-laden specialty coffees the kind geared more for your taste buds than for its caffeine content. Usually this makes me smile but not today. We find a quiet table, sit down and discuss what has just happened. My husband tries to make light of the situation to get me to relax. We discuss it a while longer, and he ends the conversation by saying, “Well, I guess it is a minor inconvenience in today’s world.We just have to live with it.” Those words “a minor inconvenience” stay with me as we finish our coffees and then board the plane. When we arrive at our destination and get our luggage from baggage claim I notice a blue plastic tie looped through the lock holder on my suitcase. We hadn’t locked our luggage, which held only clothes, on the chance that it might randomly be checked but I never expected it to be searched. The blue tie told me that it had been. Tired, we didn’t say a word in the car on the way home. I didn’t sleep well that night and the next day I tried to come to a calming rationale that all this is a necessary “minor inconvenience.” But, no matter how I tried to convince myself that all this security is something we just have to live with, it bothered me tremendously that someone I didn’t and, most likely, will never,know had gone through my personal clothing, touching my underwear, my fancy “vacation” lingerie, everything I had brought to wear for a happy get-away- from-it-all week. They even went through the clothes in the laundry bag. I wasn’t a criminal and I certainly didn’t like being treated like one. Suddenly feeling disgusted, I threw all the clothes in the washer. Over the next few days the episode at the airport kept coming back to me. I had to debate my needs and rights as a citizen of the United States against the national need for tight security. An elderly neighbor of ours was aghast at what had happened to us and punctuated the fact with what, I’m sure was to her, a positive rationale. “You two don’t look like terrorists! You’re both blonde and fair!” I just smiled and shook my head. She had lived through WWII and still didn’t buy anything made in a foreign country. I couldn’t convince her that terrorists don’t all look a certain way. I focused on what Alan had said about it being a “minor inconvenience.” Was it really just that? To me it was more than just an inconvenience. I felt as if we had somehow been stripped of our rights as citizens. In a strange way I think it is true, we have lost some of our rights and that bothers me tremendously. I can’t seem to let it go. My husband is the type of person who is able to put events into some sort of perspective for himself and, usually, for me. The last thing he said about what happened at the airport was that he likened it to being pulled over by a police officer and asked to show your driver’s license. You automatically give your license to the officer even though you know you have not broken any traffic laws.You do it because it is the law. I’m glad he can feel this way. It is over and done for him, but, not for me. It will take me some time. Our American society has been put into a situation where we are forced to give up one thing in order to have another. You want the freedom to travel, you give up a certain amount of personal privacy. You want to keep your privacy, you give up the freedom to travel. It has even come to the point where our personal effects are subject to search at sporting events. At Yankee Stadium last year we were asked to remove our baseball caps so the guards at the gate could look inside them. These minor inconveniences are taking their toll in time, money, and personal aggravation. U.S. citizens don’t want to live this way and we are angry that this has, in effect, been forced upon us because of the violent and indescribably horrible actions of terrorists. The irony is that we must comply with personal searches if we want to continue to live in a free society. In order to enjoy liberty we have to give up a part of it. Does this make sense? I guess it has to unless we can come up with a better way of safeguarding our country. We’re planning another trip by air and I am looking forward to going away. I’ll do all the things I usually do when we’re getting ready to go. I’ll pack too many clothes, I’ll worry about how things will be at home, I’ll leave a hundred- plus instructions for the pet sitter and so on. But I’ll also do one other thing I’ve never had to do before: I’ll steel myself for a “minor inconvenience.” ------------ About the author Kristen Houghton: Working on a book of short stories, I write a column, "The Writer's Block" on observations of everyday life and a column for educators called iTeach! Email: Krisnalan@aol.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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