I grieve.

I tell myself I’m fine, that it’s all okay.

Yet I grieve.

I’m normally one to look the other way;

to categorize these events as tragic,

store them away where they will not affect me,

distract me.

But this time, I can’t.

It’s isolating.

Seeing the Chapel Hill shooting flood my social media, constantly ready to hear what new “update” has been made.

Realizing that only a handful of those on your feed seem to care,

at least enough to share a story,

a sentiment,

a comment.

Knowing that this story will likely not go big.

Because it isn’t what people want to read.

I cry,

because Yusor, Razan, and Deah are a hundred times the person I am –

a hundred times the person I aspire to be.

I am hurt knowing that someone could hate so much that they kill their next door neighbor.

Their next door neighbor.

I am disturbed realizing that the victim could be anyone I know.

That the victim could be me.

For my religion.

For my identity.

#JusticeForMuslims: for the right for all to believe what they believe; for Muslim Americans to be embraced as both; for us all to continue the legacy that Razan, Deah, and Yusor have begun.

Allah yarhamhom.

May they rest in peace.

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Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha dancing with her father at her wedding. Photo from facebook.com

 

  • Huda Alawa

    Huda Alawa is a graduate of Heidelberg University (Germany), where she studied the impact of community organizations on re-defining identity. Huda can be found working to empower women and children through NuDay Syria, planning her next entrepreneurial endeavor with her sister, or scouring the kitchen for snacks to accompany the next great read.


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