What Do I Do Everytime There Is A Terror Attack?
Every time there is a terror attack in the world, I feel an enormous sense of sadness. It’s always the first emotion — large and crushing and reminds me of all the people and families who must have been hurt by this. There is sadness for the confusion and anger that will follow and for the people affected by it. There is also sadness for the people who have felt the need to do something like this.
I also feel the momentary panic: please let this person not identify as being Muslim. Please let him not pretend to represent 1.2 billion people in the world. Please let this not be what comes to define me and my community.
Then there’s anger, anger at the situation, anger at the logic, anger at the people who did this. Anger for what the backlash will be, what the media will say and anger at the helplessness I feel. When that subsides, all I feel is helpless.
And perhaps that is the worst part. The not being able to do anything. Gestures on Facebook and social media, seem hollow and cheap. To condemn an attack is obvious, to express grief over something that I am distant from is aloof. Quite often I live in a different city and so volunteering isn’t always an option. And giving money towards it is something I am just never sure of.
Does the money get utilised in a way that helps families? Having lived and worked in the development sector for years I am skeptical of pop-up charities that often are run poorly with little accountability. I also know that little charities are sometimes the most effective at dealing with crises on the ground and can have a remarkable positive impact. But there is no way to know for sure.
Lately, I have debated writing something thoughtful. Using my voice to tell an alternative story of love, or hope. Opening up the space for dialougue and asking questions where there are no answers. It doesn’t make things better, it certainly doesn’t make them stop but it does mean we are putting as much positive into the world as there is negative.
As a Muslim, I feel a need to draw boundaries. A boundary, that so many liberals will argue does not need to be defined. To highlight that the attacks were not representative of many many Muslims around the world. To argue that ALL Muslims I know are normal people, with normal lives. To need to paint myself with an identity that is largely private, if only to prove that there is a difference. But to do so, is scary, it is making myself vulnerable and I am never sure of the backlash.
I have been to countless protests to show solidarity with a cause I believe in. For me, this is a way of expressing communal grief. It allows me to come out of my house and share my anger with a group of people who feel similarly. Throughout history, protests have been instrumental in changing policy, lobbying officials, and creating a change in people’s perceptions of the world around them. They have caused change in large and substantial ways and they have given public space to voices that have not had a place to be heard. Yet, sometimes they can seem insignficant. And in the case of terror attacks, they are never able to rectify the wrong.
So, I’ll continue to go to protests and write about it in ways that feel genuine to me. It means I will ask questions and offer information to people who ask. It means that I will continue to demonstrate that there are Muslims who are just as confused and baffled and worried about global terror attack.
It means we are not silent.
What do you do every time there is a terror attack?
#WonderWithMe
