For some, the change was immediate, breathtaking, consumable.

For others, the change was gradual, subtle, almost imperceptible.

For me, it was the latter. I can't remember much about my world prior to Sept. 11, 2001, but I know it was very different.

What I do remember is confusion as my fifth grade classroom hastily formed a line in front of Mrs. Drake's desk. I remember ominous rain clouds outside the window. I remember a pit in my stomach as she stapled a note in our Courtland Elementary planners and warned us not to open them.

I remember crying in anger, but mostly fear, when I walked into my living room where my mom stood watching repeated images of the attacks. You know that feeling that nothing in your life, or the world, is every going to be the same? I remember that too.

I was not in sight of the World Trade Center, Pentagon or Shanksville, Pa. I did not lose a loved one on that day or in the subsequent wars since.

I may not remember the exact moment, but I changed.

My story is one of millions from the generation that grew up in the shadow of Sept. 11, those were innocent children at the time of the attacks but whose worlds, nevertheless, were irrevocably changed.

We grew up in a world where the War on Terror, Osama bin Laden and weapons of mass destruction were household terms. We struggle to remember a nation that did not include the Department of Homeland Security, long waits at the airport and reports of bombings in the Middle East.

And the worst part of it all? We didn't even have a say in it.

We didn't choose to live in this world, we didn't create the myriad problems facing our nation and world today. But it is not the time for blame or immature finger pointing. It is the time for resilience, courage and taking a stand.

We are down, but we are not out.

We are young, but we are loud.

We are victims, but we are not powerless.

Think back to that Sunday night in May when hundreds of Elon students marched through campus celebrating the death of Osama bin Laden, waving American flags, shouting "Go USA" and blaring patriotic music.

Some called it blatantly insensitive, rejoicing at a loss of life. Others called it a righteous, natural reaction to the death of a man who had struck fear in hearts for almost a decade.

Now, think if that parade of voices, of passion, of absolute fervor were directed in support of a cause.

What if they had been shouting in support of better health benefits for the first responders of 9/11? What if they had been calling for a reevaluation of the treatment of Muslim Americans in this country, who are repeatedly facing discrimination and stereotypes because of their faith?

Where was this outpouring of support and emotion from students Sunday morning during the flag lowering ceremony?

What if we used that spirit to make a stand for something that would truly make a difference in this time and in years to come?

Think what monumental change we, as a generation, could bring about.

We were defined by a Tuesday morning in 2001. It changed us, yes, but we are bigger than our fears, stronger than our anger.

It's time to step away from the shadow of that horrific day and create our own light.