On September 11, 2021, a young woman stood at the National September 11 Memorial in Lower Manhattan, her voice steady as she read the name of her father, Michael Angel Trinidad, one of the 2,977 souls lost in the 2001 attacks. Thea Trinidad, known to millions as WWE superstar Zelina Vega, wasn’t just honoring a parent—she was carrying forward a legacy of resilience born from that dark day. Meanwhile, thousands gathered, their silence broken only by the tolling of bells marking the moments the Twin Towers, Pentagon, and Flight 93 fell. This ceremony, with its reading of names and Tribute in Light, isn’t just a ritual—it’s a defiant stand against forgetting.
Yet, some dismiss the day as a mere Tuesday in 2001, or that what happened is that "some people did something." Wrong. It’s the day evil tried to shatter America, yet we rose stronger. September 11 must become a national holiday, not just declared as Patriot Day, to ensure its lessons of sacrifice, unity, and resilience like Trinidad’s endure.
The ceremony’s power lies in its raw simplicity. Families clutch photos, some held by children born after 2001, like the young readers chosen by lottery to recite names. Six moments of silence punctuate the morning, each a heartbeat of memory: 8:46 a.m., when American Airlines Flight 11 struck the North Tower; 9:03 a.m., when United Flight 175 hit the South Tower; and so on, through the Pentagon and Shanksville. The Tribute in Light, two beams piercing the Manhattan sky, stands like a superhero signal for the FDNY, NYPD, and everyday heroes who ran toward danger. President Trump called them heroes, and he’s right. The Empire State Building and One World Trade Center glow blue, a visual vow that we’ll never let those names fade.
Thea Trinidad’s story embodies that vow. At 10 years old, she lost her father, a telecom analyst at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 103rd floor of the North Tower. Michael Trinidad called his ex-wife that morning, saying goodbye and entrusting his children’s care to their stepfather. Thea overheard, her world collapsing as the towers did. Yet, from that grief, she forged a path her father dreamed of. A wrestling fan, Michael took Thea and her brother to WWE events at Madison Square Garden, cheering for stars like The Rock.
After his death, Thea channeled their shared love into a career, becoming Zelina Vega—a fierce, pint-sized dynamo who won the WWE Women’s United States Championship in 2025 and brought it to her father’s name at the 9/11 Memorial. “It’s mind-blowing to have it here,” she said, placing the belt on his engraved name, a tribute to a bond unbroken by terror. Her journey, from a grieving child at Camp Haze for 9/11 orphans to a WWE star honoring her dad on Monday Night Raw, shows how 9/11’s scars fuel resilience.
But that resilience is at risk. The FDNY reports more members have died from 9/11-related illnesses than in the attacks themselves, a lingering wound ignored by those too busy clutching pearls over petty grievances to honor real sacrifice. Some academics and media elites reframe 9/11 as a distant event, irrelevant to a TikTok generation.
They’d rather bicker over microaggressions than teach kids about Flight 93’s heroes, who stopped a fourth attack. Without a national holiday, 9/11 could fade into a Wikipedia entry, its weight lost on a generation that never saw the towers fall. Contrast that with the ceremony’s impact: names read aloud, like Michael Trinidad’s, ensure they “don’t disappear,” as one family member put it. Thea Vega, reading her father’s name at the 20th anniversary, proves memory is action—her career, a living tribute, shouts that 9/11’s spirit endures.
Making September 11 a national holiday is about carving out a day to reflect, teach, and rally. Imagine schools pausing to study the courage of first responders, not just reciting transgender pledges. Picture communities lighting up blue, from Wichita to Des Moines, echoing New York’s tribute. Thea Trinidad’s story could inspire kids to chase dreams despite loss, just as she turned pain into a championship belt. A holiday would codify what the ceremony already does: unite us across divides, as it did in 2001 when, as Vega recalled, “everyone took each other’s hands—it didn’t matter what class you were in or what language you spoke.” This isn’t about dwelling in grief; it’s about roaring defiance, like a DC Comic movie’s final stand where ordinary Americans—cops, firefighters, office workers, a wrestler’s dad became extraordinary.
Congress, act now. Make September 11 a national holiday to etch it in our calendars like we etch those names in bronze. Let’s teach kids about Todd Beamer’s “Let’s roll” on Flight 93, not just as history but as a call to courage. Let’s honor Thea Trinidad’s fight, carrying her father’s love into the ring. This is how we keep 9/11’s light burning as a beacon of strength, not sorrow. Readers, America doesn’t forget its heroes, from the World Trade Center to the wrestling ring. We’ll never fade.