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hate crime

In the early hours of June 18, 17-year-old Nabra Hassanen was abducted, assaulted, and murdered in Virginia.

The heartbreaking incident has left her family and the local Muslim community in shock, searching for answers amid senseless tragedy.

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Nabra and a small group of friends had just left a local mosque, where the All Dulles Area Muslim Society (ADAMS) was holding late-night prayers in the final days of Ramadan, and they were headed to a nearby fast-food joint to eat before fasting began at sunrise, the Washington Post reported.

The suspect — later identified as 22-year-old Darwin Martinez Torres — reportedly confronted Nabra and her friends on their walk. In the chaos of the moment, the friends dispersed, running back to the safety of the mosque, and Nabra was left behind. Hours later, her body was found in a nearby pond.

Was Nabra targeted because of her Muslim faith?

Still reeling from the news of her daughter's death, her mother, Sawsan Gazzar, was left pondering, why Nabra?

But she thinks she knows the answer.

"I think it had to do with the way she was dressed and the fact that she's Muslim," Gazzar said. "Why would you kill a kid? What did my daughter do to deserve this?"

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During a news conference, the Fairfax County Police Department said it is not investigating the murder as a hate crime as there "doesn't seem to be any indication" it was.

Nabra's mother, of course, is not off base for thinking her daughter may have been murdered because of her Muslim faith though.

Anti-Islam attitudes and violence have been on the rise in America and Europe.

Just last month, a report by Muslim civil rights group CAIR found alarming spikes in U.S. hate crimes targeting the Islamic community. After a dramatic increase in incidents between 2014 and 2015, the number of cases rose yet again — another 44% last year.

Demonstrators march in the streets of Queens, New York, after a Muslim was murdered in 2016. Photo by Kena Betancur/AFP/Getty Images.

This isn't just an American problem either.

The same day Nabra was murdered in Virginia, a van plowed through a crowd outside a north London mosque, killing at least one person and injuring several others. According to reports, bystanders heard the driver scream, "I want to kill all Muslims," as he drove.

The media is already being heavily criticized for humanizing the London suspect, who was taken into custody, by using terms like the "white van driver," and not "terrorist," while reporting on the situation.

Nothing can mend the broken hearts of Nabra's grieving loved ones. But the internet is doing everything it can to ease the burden of loss during their time of need.

In the wake of the Nabra's death, multiple fundraising platforms — on sites like LaunchGood and GoFundMe — have rallied supporters to help her family pay for immediate expenses, like funeral costs.

In less than 24 hours, they've raised a staggering $180,000.

The financial support is certainly heartening. But the messages of love on the crowdfunding pages are maybe just as powerful: "May your beautiful soul rest in peace habiti."

For me and for a lot of people, recent political events have made the world feel a little less ... welcoming. And that's true in places outside of America, too.

Janelle Venne, who has lived in Ottawa and, more recently, Alberta, Canada, for most of her life, says this recent surge of hatred is spreading north.

She tries to do her part every day, whether that's volunteering to cover up racist graffiti or just flashing a warm smile to passersby. But Venne says she heard a news story a few weeks back that made her stomach turn. A man had taken a rope out of his jacket, tied it into a noose, handed it to two hijabi women he saw at a light-rail station in Venne's town of Edmonton, and taunted them, singing "O Canada." The encounter was caught on camera by the two women.

“I was thinking, 'Why doesn't somebody do something about this?'" Venne says. "Then I realized: I am somebody.”

Venne came up with the idea to take back her local train station as a safe space for all by handing out flowers to any women she saw there wearing hijab.

Initially, she thought she'd spend about $50 of her own money on a few carnations. But the more people she talked to, the more people wanted to get involved.

Working alongside other volunteers, including Nakita Valerio from AMPAC (the Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council), Venne scraped together over $500 in only 24 hours.

That meant she was able to buy about 1,000 flowers to hand out.

Nakita Valerio (center) and Janelle Venn pose with flowers. Photo by Nakita Valerio, used with permission.

On Dec. 7, 2016, almost exactly a month after the incident, Venne and other volunteers set up shop between two escalators on the main train platform.

People filtered past in bunches — dozens of them, hundreds. And each time a woman wearing a hijab hurried through the crowd, Venne and others quietly slipped her a flower, their way of saying "You are welcome here."

"The first person I gave a flower to, she just about broke out crying and gave me a huge hug," Venne says. Another woman received a flower on her way to class, then came back to the station just to thank the volunteers again.

A group of people are giving out flowers in the University LRT station to Hijabi women in response to the hate crime...
Posted by Yasmeen Abdallah on Wednesday, December 7, 2016

In 12 hours, Venne says, the group handed out over 800 flowers.

And what might be even more encouraging than the sheer number of kind gestures performed by the volunteers that day was the interest from non-Muslim passersby.

"All different kinds of people came up and asked what they were up to and asked how they could help," Venne says. Many of the flowers were given to curious strangers who promised to hand them out throughout the day.

Photo by Nakita Valerio, used with permission.

Of course, not everyone loved what Venne was doing, and a few said so. “But the percentage was so tiny," she says. "They're loud, but they're obviously not the majority.”

Unfortunately, Venne and her friends can't be everywhere in the world at once, making sure everyone feels safe and loved.

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So she has a few pieces of advice for anyone who might find themselves witnessing harassment like the incident that took place at her local train station:

“Completely ignore the harasser. Communicate with the person being harassed,” she says. Make normal conversation with them. Make them feel comfortable. “Eventually, the harasser will go away.”

If you're up for doing something more proactive in your own community to make the world feel safer, a little can go a long way.

"Because women who wear hijabs are so targeted and so easy to spot," Venne says, "I figured they should be targeted for a positive reason for once."

This NBA team stood up to homophobia big time last night with a tribute to Pulse victims.

On June 12, 2016, the worst mass shooting in U.S. history took place at Pulse, a prominent LGBTQ nightclub in Orlando, Florida.

The tragedy rocked the entire country (and world). But it was especially devastating to the Orlando community.

Photo by Gerardo Mora/Getty Images.

It was a day that won't soon be forgotten in central Florida.

More than four months later — and just two miles down the road from where the atrocity took place — the NBA's Orlando Magic dedicated its season opener on Oct. 26, 2016, to those who lost their lives this past summer.

"I couldn’t be more proud of this community,’’ said Magic CEO Alex Martins of Orlando's coming together in the months since. "I will be shocked if there’s a dry eye in the audience tonight."

Brandon Jennings, who played for the Orlando Magic last year. Photo by Maddie Meyer/Getty Images.

Performer Brandon Parsons sang “Forty-Nine Times,” a heart-wrenching song dedicated to the 49 victims of the shooting.

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“Tonight, we honor their lives, the heroes who emerged that early morning, and a healing community that showed the world love always conquers hate,” the team's announcer told the filled stadium.

A rainbow-colored banner, printed with the number 49 and all the names of those who were killed, hung from the rafters.

Photo by John Raoux/AP Photo.

"It will be our way of making sure that we don’t forget those who lost their lives in this tragedy," Martins said of the colorful banner.

Players' warm-up shirts sported a rainbow heart and the #OrlandoUnited hashtag, paying special tribute to those affected.

Orlando Magic player Elfrid Payton. Photo by John Raoux/AP Photo.

Magic fans used the #OrlandoUnited hashtag on social media to share how the pre-game events went far beyond basketball.

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Since June, the Orlando Magic have stood with other local athletic groups in solidarity with Pulse and the city's LGBTQ community.

In the aftermath of the shooting, the Magic — along with Orlando City Soccer Club and the Orlando Solar Bears ice hockey team — funneled millions of dollars into the OneOrlando Fund, which is aiding victims' families and survivors during their time of recovery.

Between the Magic organization and the DeVos family, which owns the team, $500,000 was given to the charitable fund.

Photo by Gerardo Mora/Getty Images.

Last night's dedication was particularly moving because it showed a pro sports team proudly standing alongside the LGBTQ community.

That's big.

Homophobia and transphobia in sports are still very real, especially in the U.S. That's why groups like Athlete Ally are so critical — they combat the various forms of discrimination queer men and women face in locker rooms and on athletic courts everywhere.

Retired NBA player Jason Collins. Photo by Alex Goodlett/Getty Images.

It's an injustice many athletes, like retired NBA player Jason Collins, know all too well.

"I want to do the right thing and not hide anymore," Collins, who was the first NBA player to come out as gay in 2013, said of his decision to live openly. "I want to march for tolerance, acceptance and understanding. I want to take a stand and say, 'Me, too.'"

In Florida, #OrlandoUnited has proven to be so much more than a catchy hashtag.

It's reflective of a community that gets why we all hurt when one group hurts. When one family mourns, we all bear the pain.

And when we heal together, it shows why no amount of hate — or bigotry, or some warped idea of morality — can prevent love from conquering hate.

Photo by Manel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images.

100 years after a vicious hate crime, she's telling her great-grandmother's story.

True

Mary Ellen Noone can't look at a bottle of nail polish without seeing red.

Her great-grandmother, Pinky Powell, was born just before the turn of the 20th century. Petite but strong, she often told her great-grandkids about picking 100 pounds of cotton before lunchtime.

And years after her days in the fields, Powell saw Mary Ellen painting her nails and said:

"You know, there was a time we couldn't wear no fingernail polish."

As a child around 1910, Powell lived on plantation in Alabama and did domestic chores for the white woman of the house. The woman tossed away some of her old perfume and nail polish, so Powell took it home. On Sunday, she sprayed the perfume, painted her nails, and got dressed up for church.

But on Monday, the owner of the general store spotted her nails at the check out.

"What are you doing with your nails painted up like a white woman?" he asked.

Without hesitation, he reached for a pair of pliers and pulled Powell's nails from their beds one by one.

She was a child. A child who wanted a sliver of humanity in a black body. But for this white man, even that was too much. It was an act of violence that left Powell forever scarred in every sense of the word.

Even now, just seeing a jar of red nail polish takes Mary Ellen back to that moment.

It's an inherited trauma she just can't shake.

"I still have that anger inside of me that someone would have that control over one person, just because they wanted to feel like a woman."

Hear the full story of Pinky Powell and the lasting impact her story had on her great-grandaughter, Mary Ellen Noone:

Finally one place has realized there should be repercussions for street harassment.

If you're a woman living on planet Earth, odds are you've been catcalled at some point in your life.

Photo by iStock.

If you live in a major metropolitan area, it probably happens all too often. When I spoke to women in the United States about being catcalled, they told me about their everyday experiences of harassment on the street.

"When I was a teenager, I was told that if I didn't have huge tits, no one would know who I was," said Shelley, who lives in New York (and who, like all the women I talked to, asked not to be identified because of the sensitive nature of her story).

"One time a stranger grabbed my ass as he walked passed me, and when I yelled at him and called him an asshole, he pretended he hadn't done it," explained Heidi, who lives in San Diego.

"I was smiling on the subway and this guy follows me home, repeatedly asking me to marry him, saying I must be in love with him because I smiled at him," recounted Liv, another New Yorker.

This kind of harassment can happen anywhere.

Based on data collected by the nonprofit Stop Street Harassment, catcalling is a worldwide epidemic.

Photo by iStock.

According to their most recent nationwide study (2014), 65% of women in the United States have experienced street harassment in some form. In Egypt in 2013, the figure jumps to 99%. And in the U.K., 84% of women say they've been harassed by someone on the street before age 17.

However, that last number may drop soon thanks to a new effort to classify harassment against women as a hate crime.

Last week, the Nottinghamshire Police officially declared misogyny a "hate crime."

What this means: If a woman files a complaint with the police, it can be "tagged" as a hate crime against women, allowing the police to note how harassment starts so they can be better equipped to prevent it in the future.

The idea, however, began with a local community group.

Nottingham Women's Centre recommended that this kind of change would increase safety for women in the community. So the Nottingham Police made a public commitment to register misogyny as a hate crime and train their officers to recognize its signs.

Photo by iStock.

While the policy is not perfect (the language of the hate crime clause is somewhat vague), it's still a step forward because it teaches officers to recognize subtle signs of harassment.

Some examples include "unwanted or uninvited sexual advances, unwanted or uninvited physical or verbal contact or engagement ... and use of mobile devices to send unwanted or uninvited messages or take photographs without consent or permission."

Photo by Siska Gremmel Prez/Getty Images.

"We want to send a strong message that the extreme end of this type of behavior is not acceptable and Nottinghamshire Police will take it very seriously," Jack Storey, a police spokesperson, told Upworthy.

For that, the women of Nottinghamshire are grateful — and eager to continue the conversation.

Storey has already seen an uptick in the number of women coming forward to talk about their harassment experiences. And the Women's Centre has already had incredibly encouraging responses from women like this one, who asked to remain anonymous but has already felt a huge difference with the changes in the law:

“Yesterday I felt ten feet taller walking around this city. I literally felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was amazing because I know that many men who might normally want to shout or whistle will have read about this and they will have to stop and reflect.”

Her confidence is proof that we're winning the fight against street harassment. It's a win in the fight against fear. And it's a win for women everywhere.

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Young woman filmed her confrontation with man sexually harassing women on the subway ›

'No act of hate or terror will ever change who we are or the values that make us Americans.'

In the early hours of June 12, 2016, a gunman opened fire at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida.

Photo by Gerardo Mora/Getty Images.

Pulse is an LGBTQ nightclub. That the attack happened there was no coincidence. It appears the gunman — who pledged allegiance to the Islamic state the night he killed at least 50 people — reportedly held deeply homophobic attitudes.

Sunday afternoon, President Obama addressed the nation, highlighting what made this most recent act of terror unique.

While the president confirmed the FBI is investigating the incident and thanked the courageous first responders who saved many lives, he also made a point to note why the location of this attack should not be overlooked.

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images.

"This is an especially heartbreaking day for all our friends — our fellow Americans — who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender," he said in his speech. "The shooter targeted a nightclub where people came together to be with friends, to dance and to sing, and to live."

"The place where they were attacked is more than a nightclub — it is a place of solidarity and empowerment where people have come together to raise awareness, to speak their minds, and to advocate for their civil rights."

The president is right. Dating back to the Stonewall Riots of the 1960s, LGBTQ nightclubs and bars have been much more than just spaces to have fun on a Friday night. These venues are where people have organized, protested, pushed for progress, and found safe spaces amid a hostile outside world.

This wasn't just an attack on Americans writ large — it was an attack on the freedoms that LGBTQ people have rallied for for decades.

"No act of hate or terror will ever change who we are or the values that make us Americans," Obama said.

The president also used his speech to highlight the continued need to act against gun violence.

Sunday morning's tragedy — the deadliest shooting in American history — is yet another example of why rampant gun violence in the U.S. is a uniquely American phenomenon.

"This massacre is therefore a further reminder of how easy it is for someone to get their hands on a weapon that lets them shoot people in a school, or in a house of worship, or a movie theater, or in a nightclub," Obama said.

"And we have to decide if that’s the kind of country we want to be. And to actively do nothing is a decision as well."

Photo by Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images.

June is pride month across the country. As we celebrate progress made while honoring those who lost their lives in Orlando, let's also remember what inspires us to keep fighting: hope.

As LGBTQ rights activist Harvey Milk once said, "The only thing they have to look forward to is hope. And you have to give them hope."

"Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right."

Photo by Max Whittaker/Getty Images.

Watch Obama's speech addressing the Orlando mass shooting:

It's not often that a hate crime has a happy ending — or something close to it.

The True Islam Symposium at the Baitul Aman, or "House of Peace," mosque. Image by Wajid Ahmed/YouTube.

Back in November, angered by the terrorist attacks in Paris, Ted Hakey Jr. fired shots at an empty mosque near his house in Meriden, Connecticut.

The Hartford Courant reported that Hakey, a former Marine, pled guilty to intentional destruction of religious property in February. He is set to be sentenced in May and faces eight to 14 months in prison.

Five months later, he did something unusually brave: He stood up in front of members of the mosque and apologized.

"I want to just apologize to everybody," Hakey said at the event, hosted by the Baitul Aman mosque. "I really have no excuses, and I don't think you could imagine the amount of regret I have, and just the heartache I caused for everybody, brought discredit upon myself, the Marine Corps, everything I stand for."

The leaders of the mosque did something even braver, something they did not have to do: They forgave him.

"What was said that day made a huge difference to us," Mohammed Qureshi, president of the mosque, told the Courant. "We greeted and we hugged just like a Muslim neighbor. We know why he did what he did — because he never heard our message. We now see it in his heart and we see it in his eyes."

Hakey told them he wishes he'd gotten to know his Muslim neighbors better before leaping to conclusions about them.

Image by Wajid Ahmed/YouTube.

Qureshi said there were tears in the room as Hakey delivered his apology. After the event, Hakey gave and received hugs from congregants, many of whom reported being moved by what appeared to be a sincere plea for forgiveness.

"We look forward to being good neighbors in the future, and having a close friendship as well," Qureshi said after Hakey's address.

Sadly, Hakey wasn't alone in resorting to anti-Islam violence after the Paris attacks.

In the month following the November killings, there were nearly 40 documented attacks on Muslims in the United States. A Washington Post report found that hate crimes against Muslims are five times more common today than they were before Sept. 11, 2001.

An anti-Islam ad in the New York City subway in 2012. Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images.

It's a danger that makes the Baitul Aman members' willingness to forgive all the more remarkable.

Hakey said that while "sorry" doesn't excuse his actions, he's grateful to the congregation for giving him the opportunity to learn.

His biggest regret was not having come by sooner.

"I was a neighbor, and I did have fear, and the fear was always when you don't know something," Hakey said in his address. "The unknown, you are always afraid. I wish that I had come and knocked on your door, and if I had spent five minutes with you, it would have been all the difference in the world. And I didn't do that."

You can watch Hakey's entire emotional apology below.

(The important part starts at 34:02)