What I remember most about the morning of September 11, 2001, besides its absolute normalcy, was the beauty of the late-summer day. Driving my boys to school before heading to the university, I was listening to my favorite radio station when the DJ joked about how “some idiot has apparently managed to fly his plane into the Twin Towers.” Within minutes, however, the truth of that day filled the television and radio airwaves. As rage and grief surged within me, I felt an almost primal compulsion to communicate with my closest intimates.

Arriving in the lecture hall an hour later, I found a classroom full of students equally eager to share their emotions, from shocked disgust to silent sadness. Whereas most of the women in my class expressed grief over the loss of life, the men felt furious. Personality also seemed to make a difference. For example, my less agreeable students vocalized their anger and insisted that the attacks confirmed “the innate evil of human nature.” As you can see, my students and I (as well as people around the globe) were united in a newly forged bond of anger and sadness over the loss of so many innocent lives, but divided along lines of gender and personality as to how we each experienced this bitter bond.