Skip to main contentSkip to navigationSkip to navigation
In this March 17, 2019, file photo, a police officer stands guard in front of the Masjid Al Noor mosque in Christchurch
‘What if another Tarrant decides to show up?’ writes Ramia Abdo Sultan. Photograph: Vincent Yu/AP
‘What if another Tarrant decides to show up?’ writes Ramia Abdo Sultan. Photograph: Vincent Yu/AP

Two years after the Christchurch massacre, I still hold my heart every time I go to mosque

This article is more than 3 years old
Ramia Abdo Sultan

My community and I are still grieving, not only for the victims, but for how hate and bigotry led to such an extreme act of violence

As the news on the Christchurch massacre unfolded in 2019, I was at work, ironically dealing with a different type of aggression, namely that of a client detailing the injustices she was experiencing at the hands of her partner, and the exit plan she would soon take. Being safe was the most important thing in all of this. It didn’t matter where she and her children would end up - being safe was all that mattered.

As she left my office, I wondered how humans could ever come to be so inhumane - why did certain people feel it was OK to inflict harm on others and potentially get away with it. In that moment, I received notifications on my phone of what appeared to be the same message being circulated in the many groups I’m in. I didn’t realise that what I would come to watch would become something I could never unsee … and never unhear, where the ruthless and calculated gunshots would haunt me, even two years on. I took a corner in my office, and the apparently strong, confident lawyer in me, completely shaken, wept in disbelief.

Was this really happening to our neighbour, New Zealand? It was so close to home it shook me to the core. The thing that made it even more unbearable was the fact that the Christchurch terrorist was one of us, an Australian. How could an Australian, someone I could have crossed paths with here at home, be so full of hate that he would one day plan out something as horrific as the Christchurch massacre? Is Australia home to this much hate and bigotry unbeknown to us all?

On Friday 15 March 2019, two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, were attacked by one shooter. Fifty-one people died from their injuries and an equal number were injured, still dealing with the pain and trauma of that horrific day.

The events that took place have made me reflect a lot, on things I either never saw or perhaps chose not to see. I realised that Christchurch was never an “unforeseen circumstance”.

There was always a lead up to it. How is it OK to sit in parliament and call Islam a “disease”, or refer to a “final solution” when talking about Muslim presence in society? How is it OK to turn up to parliament wearing and ridiculing religious attire or claim that it was a “mistake” to let a cohort of Muslim immigrants come to Australia in the 1970s? It is comments and statements such as these that contribute to severe hatred.

For Muslims, attending the mosque is an opportunity for attendees to literally leave the chaos and worries of life outside, and switch into an introspective state to do some soul searching and refocussing. The moment any attendee enters the mosque, especially on a Friday, they become separated from the world – given a chance to take a break, pause and breath.

But this sacred moment was torn away from every victim on 15 March 2019. Not just from the victims on that day but from all Muslims entering a mosque after the Christchurch massacre.

Two years on, I still hold my heart each time my family and I attend our local mosque. What if another Tarrant decides to show up? Here, I realise, despite two years passing, my community and I haven’t completely healed. We are still grieving and mourning, not only the victims, but for how hate and bigotry led to an extreme act of violence.

The Islamophobia in Australia report released in November 2019 showed that Islamophobia in Australia does exist and is a persistent social issue that overwhelmingly targets women who are visibly Muslim due to the hijab, and places of worship such as mosques.

Hence, it becomes our duty as bystanders, policymakers and law changers to question and assess what protective legislative measures are in place to better protect minority communities - including Australian Muslims – from Islamophobia.

Better measures, which will hold perpetrators to account, need to be implemented in order to monitor both online and offline hatred and violent extremism to ensure that another Christchurch never happens again.

Our hearts and prayers are with the victims of Christchurch and their families – and I pray for tolerance and peace to guide humanity always.

Ramia Abdo Sultan a Sydney-based lawyer and community relations advisor to the Australian National Imams Council (ANIC)

Most viewed

Most viewed