Why I'm Not Flying
The story that follows is not exceptional.
It is a story that happens hundreds of times every day, to hundreds of men, women, and children throughout the U.S. The vast majority of these individuals are, as I was, regular Americans going about their business. Hardly any of them - maybe none at all - are terrorists.
As I stepped to the front of the security checkpoint line in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, I was pulled out of line. Without any explanation of why I was being singled out, I was directed to the backscatter scanner. As my husband walked through the standard metal detector, I stood spread-eagle inside this machine, hands linked behind my head, and allowed TSA agents to take naked pictures of me.
Why did I consent to this? I wasn’t offered an option. I did learn later that another option was available to me - had I been informed enough, I could have requested a pat-down in place of the radiation-emitting scanner. The idea of requesting such a procedure is so humiliating and nausea-inducing that, frankly, I’m not sure I’d have had the nerve to go through with it anyway.
But there was a girl ahead of me in line - I’d guess she was about nineteen or twenty - who was either aware of the alternate option or had done something else to attract suspicion and was being prepared for a pat-down.
I understand that you never know for sure what a terrorist looks like.
But, gun to my head (which is a phrase I’d be too terrified to utter in an airport, by the way), I’d say that a freckle-faced girl of about 100 pounds, tearful and mortified and begging the TSA agent assigned to her to just get this over with, is not a risk. I want that girl to walk through the metal detector, but I’m willing to fly with her without having anyone’s hands search down her pants.
I want to be clear that I do not blame the TSA gate agents for the humiliation and discomfort I suffered. They were respectful and did not seem to relish the duties assigned them, and while I was embarrassed and angry at being singled out, I was no more innocent in appearance or in fact than the dozens of people not sent through the scanner. The TSA agents were like me - regular Americans going about their business.
Nor do I wish to make light of the concerns that certain acts of terrorism have caused us all to feel. Ten years ago it was demonstrated in vivid and painful detail what destruction a terrorist can cause on board an airplane. Such a horrific tragedy cannot be allowed to occur again, and the security procedures of the TSA represent the best efforts of our government to keep us safe.
But it’s not good enough.
If my government cannot keep me safe in the air without these invasive procedures, then I choose to remain on the ground. I do not grant TSA the right to touch or photograph my body, and I will not subject myself to potentially harmful radiation. Until the United States of America finds another, less objectionable way to police the air, my money will go to Amtrak instead.
It is a story that happens hundreds of times every day, to hundreds of men, women, and children throughout the U.S. The vast majority of these individuals are, as I was, regular Americans going about their business. Hardly any of them - maybe none at all - are terrorists.
As I stepped to the front of the security checkpoint line in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, I was pulled out of line. Without any explanation of why I was being singled out, I was directed to the backscatter scanner. As my husband walked through the standard metal detector, I stood spread-eagle inside this machine, hands linked behind my head, and allowed TSA agents to take naked pictures of me.
Why did I consent to this? I wasn’t offered an option. I did learn later that another option was available to me - had I been informed enough, I could have requested a pat-down in place of the radiation-emitting scanner. The idea of requesting such a procedure is so humiliating and nausea-inducing that, frankly, I’m not sure I’d have had the nerve to go through with it anyway.
But there was a girl ahead of me in line - I’d guess she was about nineteen or twenty - who was either aware of the alternate option or had done something else to attract suspicion and was being prepared for a pat-down.
I understand that you never know for sure what a terrorist looks like.
But, gun to my head (which is a phrase I’d be too terrified to utter in an airport, by the way), I’d say that a freckle-faced girl of about 100 pounds, tearful and mortified and begging the TSA agent assigned to her to just get this over with, is not a risk. I want that girl to walk through the metal detector, but I’m willing to fly with her without having anyone’s hands search down her pants.
I want to be clear that I do not blame the TSA gate agents for the humiliation and discomfort I suffered. They were respectful and did not seem to relish the duties assigned them, and while I was embarrassed and angry at being singled out, I was no more innocent in appearance or in fact than the dozens of people not sent through the scanner. The TSA agents were like me - regular Americans going about their business.
Nor do I wish to make light of the concerns that certain acts of terrorism have caused us all to feel. Ten years ago it was demonstrated in vivid and painful detail what destruction a terrorist can cause on board an airplane. Such a horrific tragedy cannot be allowed to occur again, and the security procedures of the TSA represent the best efforts of our government to keep us safe.
But it’s not good enough.
If my government cannot keep me safe in the air without these invasive procedures, then I choose to remain on the ground. I do not grant TSA the right to touch or photograph my body, and I will not subject myself to potentially harmful radiation. Until the United States of America finds another, less objectionable way to police the air, my money will go to Amtrak instead.