Frustrating. Exhausting. Infuriating.Terrifying.

These are the range of emotions that flash through me as I read the news. I experience it each time I hear the word shooting or attack. Unfortunately, living in America, these words are ones I hear and read too much. This time, New Zealand, the island nation over 7,000 miles away from the United States was affected by American politics and influence.

Since Trump became president, hate crimes have increased in the United States. His presidency creates an environment that fuels white supremacists and bigots and makes them feel that they have a place. So much so, that this toxicity has permeated another country.

This time it is not only an issue of gun control. This terror attack has put Muslims on the front page and the matter of Islamophobia continues to be glossed over. Senator Fraser Anning for Queensland did not give sympathy for the victims since Muslims are "usually the perpetrators." Innocent people should not be held accountable for another person's crimes. There is no justification for a terrorist attack.

For years, the idea that Muslims are the ones that are terrorists has been repeated over and over. I grew up overcome by the sickening feeling every time I heard another bombing or attack, not only because innocent lives were destroyed and lost, but because I would always hope that the perpetrator did not identify as a Muslim. Every incident forced me to confront and reaffirm my beliefs and what made me an American. Yet, I had to apologize for crimes I did not commit for people I didn't know.

I have always been acutely aware that I was seen as different in the eyes of what I thought was a "real" American. There was a constant divide in my mind. As I learned more about myself and culture and began to focus on trying to understand my identity, I realized a "real" American included my family, my friends, and me. It wasn't the blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin I grew up picturing as a child when someone said the word "American."

I give myself that recognition. I give my friends and family that recognition. Yet my community is constantly treated as the "other' by the media and by other people. When people see me, the first thing they think isn't American. When they ask where I'm from they don't expect to hear Illinois.

When three beautiful young Muslims were shot in their own home, the media present the shooter as rage over a parking dispute. At the time, I was a sophomore in high school. The reality that a shooting could happen at my school loomed over my head. Reading about three students who were shot point blank in their home terrified me. I saw myself in Yusor and Razan. They reminded me of myself, of my sister, and my friends. The debate of a hate crime or parking dispute reinforced the idea that I once again didn't belong. I was a target.

Once again, I am reminded that I am a target.

The day after the terror attack in New Zealand, I went to my own mosque. I quite literally felt like a sitting duck. Where do you go to be safe if everywhere you look, it feels like safety isn't meant for you? There is no safety in your own home, in your sacred spaces, in your own community?

The shooting at two mosques is evidence of how Islamophobia is alive and real. It always was, but demoting the actual horrifying act to mental illness or to parking disputes does not recognize it. If we do not confront Islamophobia, it will continue to grow. If we keep sugar-coating the reality of Muslims around the world, the more it is normalized to commit these atrocities and give excuses to murderers.

These dark times are not without light. I am appreciative and grateful for the support of various members of other communities. The world has extended a hand towards me and my fellow brothers and sisters. I know I am not alone, but we must work together to truly feel a sense of solidarity.