Gender & Identity, Life

I grieve because it can never be okay

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

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.

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