Six Lives
On the 7th anniversary of the Quebec City Mosque Shooting.
Seven years ago today, a man walked into a mosque in my country, and opened fire, killing six. A man hated my people so much, he had to kill.
I remember walking into work the next day, as if in a daze, unsure how to be, what to say.
Where to put my sudden fear? Sudden in its arrival, but having brewed for so long, a hurricane in the pit of my stomach, quelled by tums and peppermint tea, ignored until it was impossible to ignore.
When I say I am a visible minority, the stress is on the visible. There is no hiding in a hijab. There is no blending in and fading away.
Is it still safe to go to the mosque? We asked ourselves? Is it still safe to send the kids to Arabic school on the weekend? Is it still safe? Was it ever safe?
Two years ago, a man drove his truck onto the sidewalk in my country, mowing down a Muslim family of five, killing four of them, leaving behind a nine-year old orphan. In my country. In the city my sister, with her family of five, had moved to not 6 months before.
And so the questions came flooding back. The familiar knot in the stomach, the short, shallow breaths. Is it safe to go out? Is it safe to walk? On the road? On the sidewalk?
Is it safe to be?
I remember these incidents very well. The mosque shootings get tangled with others from other countries in my memories. The family mowed down, going for a walk. A simple walk. Together as a family. Not many people do that with regularity. All together. Walking. It’s beautiful. And to see it become a tragedy is heartbreaking. I can only imagine what you and your sister and her family must feel. A visible target for those who hate. I always felt a target because I’m a woman, but this is a whole other level. I’m truly sorry that you have to walk into any place and feel fear.
This is the mantra I was given this morning in my meditation about compassion--for others and yourself.
“May you find ease, even in the midst of difficulty.”
Appalling crimes. When these things happen, humanity as a whole is diminished. Thank you for keeping the memories of the victims alive, Noha, and peace be with you.