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Imam Khalid Latif is blogging his reflections during the month of Ramadan for the fifth year in a row, featured daily on HuffPost Religion. For a complete record of his previous posts, visit his author page, and to follow along with the rest of his reflections, sign up for an author email alert above, visit his Facebook page or follow him on Twitter.

For those who missed my last reflection, I had started to discuss the profound impact the 100th chapter of the Quran, Al 'Adiyat, had on me. At a time when I felt quite isolated and confused, I found solace in it like I had never found in the Qur'an before and it helped me to read the Quran in an entirely different way. It helped me to understand the human condition, my own condition, in a deeper way. My first reflection discussed briefly my interaction with the first half of Al 'Adiyat and the importance of bringing gratitude into my life deliberately in order that it serve as a catalyst for real contentment. The second half was just as eye-opening, if not more so, as it gave me an insight as to what was possibly preventing me from having that contentment.

wa innahu li hub-il khayri la shadeed
and indeed he, in his love of wealth, is most intense

To me, the connection between my desire for long term contentment and my actual reality of short-lived complacency was made clear through this verse. The word khayr is normally used to denote something that is good and beneficial. Here it is meant to denote wealth that is worldly and is described in such a way that its pursuit is so severe, that the normal good one would attain from it is lost and in turn it brings great detriment. I wasn't experiencing real contentment because I was making my pursuit the material itself, rather than seeing it as a vehicle for something much bigger.

Islam does not prohibit the acquisition of wealth. You have men and women who were the closest companions of the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, who were quite wealthy. His wife Khadijah, may God be pleased with her, was in fact a wealthy businesswoman.

"As long as the water remains under the boat, it helps the boat [to sail]; but if the water seeps into the boat, it sinks it." ~ Rumi, a 13th Century Muslim Persian poet.

"Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you." ~ Ali ibn Abi Talib, may God be pleased with him.

What Islam does recommend is a mindfulness of what the pursuit of wealth can do to you. Giving it an abode in our hearts is very different than simply pursuing it through our hands. One consequence is that it helps breed an unfortunate egocentricity and unhealthy individualism that has permeated much of society. It makes me to what I can to fulfill my own wants, even if it comes at the expenses of my needs or the needs of others. When I read this verse, in the context of the verses prior to it, I felt like I had just woken up. It was and still is quite clear that so many of us 1) put our efforts into getting as much of this world as we can and 2) that so many of us also aren't really happy. I now saw a connection that resonated for the first time deeply.

Something that seemed quite simple but I hadn't really done before that day was ask myself how these verses applied to me and my life. The insight that was being offered as to how humans can potentially be - was I like that? And if the answer was yes, was I going to actually do anything about it?

"True richness is not having an abundance of things from the earth, but true richness is having a richness of the soul." ~ The Prophet Muhammad

I think Ramadan affords a unique opportunity to reflect on what really drives us, what really gives us tranquility and peace and what also causes us anxiety. We as men and women can be quite beautiful, both inwardly and outwardly. But when the focus becomes on the outward alone, an imbalance surfaces that throws us off. And when that imbalance deepens, we begin to consume just for the sake of consumption. For those who are fasting, think deeply about how people can be. No other animal in the world has the potential for selflessness and selfishness as we do. Even when our stomachs are full, we still look to fill them more.

Changing our life necessitates at times changing how we think about life. If you feel like the aspects of human condition that this chapter, al 'Adiyat, discusses, those of ingratitude and love of wealth, find presence in your life, seek to actively change them by starting with your inside. Reflect on it and let ideas take root that will help govern your decision because you live by values that you have firmly established for yourself.

A few practical suggestions to try this Ramadan:

1. 1) Put others first by putting yourself last. Be the person who serves food when its time to break your fast, rather than the one who is being served. Give up your seat to someone on the bus or train. Save half of your meal or the money you would spend on a meal and give it to someone in need. Try anything really, so long as it doesn't put you before others.
2. 2) Meet new people and learn their stories. An unhealthy pursuit of the world also at times makes us believe that we are at the center of the world and everything revolves around us. By putting yourself in new experiences, learning about new cultures and ideas, and at the same time making yourself vulnerable in sharing your own story will more likely than lead to a lot of personal growth and development. Beyond simply talking with someone of a different race, ethnicity, social class or culture, seek to purposely build a bond. It won't take away from your own importance, but help in recognizing that others are important as well.
3. 3) Reflect on where it is that you are going. We get stuck in the past a lot and become more shackled by our flaws when we acknowledge them in comparison to when we didn't know they existed. Who you were is not who you will be, so long as you let yourself move forward.

If you have other suggestions, feel free to leave them in the comments so that others can benefit from them.

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Imam Khalid Latif is blogging his reflections during the month of Ramadan for the fifth year in a row, featured daily on HuffPost Religion. For a complete record of his previous posts, visit his author page, and to follow along with the rest of his reflections, sign up for an author email alert above, visit his Facebook page or follow him on Twitter.

One of my favorite chapters of the Qu'ran is the 100th chapter called Al-'Adiyat. I can still remember reading it about seven years ago while I was yearning for some answers, despite not knowing what actual questions I was wrestling with. I was looking for purpose and meaning and found a connection through this small chapter that made me then see the entire Qu'ran in a different way.

It opened up for me insight into the human condition, particularly my own and more generically those of people all around me, helped me to see the Qu'ran and in turn Islam through more than the legalistic framework I often was taught about it in, and served as a starting point in my continued spiritual quest to understand God through His own words, rather than the words of those who claim to speak on His behalf.

Like many other chapters of the Qu'ran, the initial verses of Al-'Adiyat start with an oath. In Islam, a person can only take an oath, if ever, by God. God, however, can take oath by any of His creation. The chapter title takes its name from the oath as God is swearing by Al-'Adiyat, a group of horses that He describes quite vividly.

Horses in a Meccan Arabia were considered to have great worth and to conceptualize the impact these verses have, its important to recognize their dissemination was not in a book form that we have today, but rather as the verses were revealed they were told to the people. The description given of these horses is quite captivating and it's key to understand this to get the point of the chapter.

In the first five verses of the chapter, they are described as a group of horses, pushing themselves to their limits as they run forward, breathing heavily and nostrils flaring. Their feet move at such a speed that they leave a trail of sparks behind them caused by their hooves striking the ground. They come upon the people they have been charging against in the morning, having no fear of it being known that they are coming. Their hastened arrival causes clouds of dust to arise with them, and as they reach their destination, they go head on and penetrate into the middle of the group, essentially surrounded. If you've ever seen any movie with a battle, from the Lord of the Rings to Braveheart, you can picture the scene in your head. A smaller group going against a larger one -- what will the end result be?

At this climactic point, when everyone is waiting to hear what happens next, the listener is given a most important message:

Inna-al insaana li rabbihi la kanood
Indeed, mankind, to its Lord, is ungrateful.

I had read this verse over and over throughout my life, but when I read it that day, it felt like I was reading it for the first time. I didn't know how to be appreciative, and the impact it was having on me was quite severe. I saw a lot of the world in terms of what I was missing and not what I actually had. I was quite focused on my wants at the expense of the fulfillment of my needs. But when I read it this time, I realized I needed some positive emotion in my life, and being purposeful and deliberate in the acquisition of appreciation was the key to it.

The word kanood in this verse can denote a few things:

1. A person who always looks at the hardships, but never looks at the blessings . Our blessings come in so many different shapes and forms, but we become those people who focus on the negative always rather than the positive.
2. A person who misuses the blessing in a way that the one who gave it to us did not intend for us to use it.
3. A person who acknowledges the presence of a blessing, but fails to recognize the one who gave it to them in the first place.

Being any of those things wasn't bringing me anything other than short-term satisfaction, if that. More often than not, it was bringing me a lot of despair. But in being open to taking advice from God that He was offering not for His benefit, but for mine, I found in this verse insight not just on what not to be, but also on what to actively be. If the absence of gratitude was yielding pain, then the presence of gratitude would quite possibly yield the contentment I was seeking, or at least help me in my pursuit of obtaining it.

Umar ibn Al-Khattab, the second caliph of Islam, once heard a man saying, "Oh God, make me from amongst the few." Umar said, "What is this supplication?" The man said, "I refer to the saying of God the Exalted: And few of My servants are grateful." (Qu'ran, 34:13) Umar said, "All of the people know better than you, Oh Umar!"

In the work that I do, I find a lot of people who are very hurt, and that hurt puts a blanket over their hearts that makes the world that much more of a heavier place.

I also find a lot of people who then fail to recognize the goodness inside themselves. The pain has become so consuming that they believe there is nothing good about them and they have nothing good to offer to anyone, including themselves. I would be the first to tell you that is the farthest thing from the truth. Where the world has failed to help you recognize the value inside of you, don't fail to recognize it yourself. Confidence can be built by affirming with appreciation the God-given talents that we have been endowed with uniquely and through that affirmation finding the strength needed to acknowledge and take on areas where we can improve. Arrogance causes us to only see weakness in the world around us -- they are two very different things.

I firmly believe that active pursuits of gratitude can help to ease hurt. Where there in pain, anger, bitterness, jealousy, envy, hatred, or negativity of any kind, its removal can be sustained and actualized through the interjection of gratitude and Ramadan creates ample opportunity to start bringing some of that positivity into our hearts. The water we drink tastes that much more refreshing, the food we eat that much sweeter. Build into your routine, whether it is daily or a few times a week, moments where you sit and just reflect. Be around people who are positive and can uplift your insides. Two actionable items that are suggested by psychologists:

1. Keeping a gratitude journal -- something in which you document regularly things that are blessings and bring benefit in your life. We see that this is built into the Islamic tradition as there are numerous advices from the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, to take time after our daily prayers and perform certain litanies that praise God, glorify God, and proclaim God's Greatness, subhanallah, alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar. Rather than just rattling them off your tongue, take a moment to attach reason and meaning to them from your heart by thinking of specific occurrences and instances to tie to each remembrance.
2. Writing thank you letters to someone you might not have ever properly thanked before and, if possible, as a second step sharing that letter with the person you wrote it to. I ask my students and community members to do this often and the experience is always moving and remarkable. Hearts tremble as they recognize what someone has done for them as much as they tremble when someone hears that we are appreciative for all that they have done for us. And as the prophet Muhammad has said, "He who has not thanked people has not thanked God."

Tomorrow I will probably write more on the concluding verses of the chapter Al-'Adiyat as it speaks about a second aspect of human condition that is important to reflect upon.

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Imam Khalid Latif is blogging his reflections during the month of Ramadan for the fifth year in a row, featured daily on HuffPost Religion. For a complete record of his previous posts, visit his author page, and to follow along with the rest of his reflections, sign up for an author email alert above, visit his Facebook page or follow him on Twitter.

One of my favorite movies of all time is Remember the Titans.It's a true story about a high school football team in Virginia dealing with deep-rooted issues of race as they become the first team in their district to integrate have both black and white players. For those who don't know, football was and is a big deal in Virginia. And unfortunately racism was and is a big deal as well.

A group of the players go into town to celebrate after winning a game and one of the white players, nicknamed Sunshine, suggests going into a restaurant that they are walking by. Petey, one of the black players, doesn't think it's a good idea.

Sunshine: Petey Jones. Come on, man.
Petey: No, man.
Sunshine: What, man? It's on me, man. We party on. Let's go.
Petey: Look--look here, man, all right? This here's Virginia. All right? They got problems with, you know -- They don't want us in there, man.
Sunshine: Oh, man, that's history, bro. It's on me. Come on.

Petey and Sunshine go into the restaurant and are met by the owner, a middle-aged white man.

Owner: We're full tonight, boys.
Sunshine: What? There's tables all over the place, man. What are you talking about?
Owner: Well, this is my establishment. I reserve the right to refuse service to anybody. Yeah, that means you, too, hippie boy. Now, y'all want somethin' to eat, you can take these boys out back and pick it up from the kitchen.

Petey and Sunshine outside the restaurant joined by Blue, a black member of the team.

Petey (angrily): What'd I tell you, man?
Blue: Yo, come on, Petey, man!
Sunshine (apologetic) Petey, I didn't know, man.
Petey: I told you! What you mean you didn't know?! You think I was playing with you?!
Blue: Man, he didn't know, Petey.
Petey: Blue, he don't want to know. You pull some crap like that, you better be able to back it up.

That's pretty much what it comes down to. It's not that we don't know. It's that we don't want to know. And to many black people, it feels like we just don't care to know.

Today Dylann Roof will appear in court in South Carolina for purposely murdering 9 black men and women in a Charleston Church.

Today is also Juneteenth. For those who don't know what that is, the United States of America was once built on slavery. Millions of black men and women were enslaved and treated as property - goods that could be bought and sold and treated or mistreated however the white slave-masters desired. When Abraham Lincoln decided to enact the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1st 1863, it took two and a half years for the actual end of slavery to be achieved. On June 19th, 1865, 150 years ago from today, slavery actually ended in this country and Juneteenth commemorates that. Its importance should be realized and appreciated, especially as so many of us are still trying to realize that black lives matter.

"If you are aware of your humility, then you are arrogant." ~ Ibn Ata'illah Al-Iskandari

The conversation around race issues in the United States can be framed in a lot of different ways. If you are reading this, I'd like to lay frame it in two ways:

1) If you are Muslim, utilize the month of Ramadan to acknowledge any micro-aggressions that you might have towards African-Americans in general. We have a big issue with racism in the broader Muslim community. The specific conversation that has to be had and acted upon, not just had and then left alone, is one that deals particularly with treatment of African-Americans only. That means its not a generic conversation that brings in how everybody unfortunately mistreats everyone. Yes, we have issues with gender, Arabs and South Asians also exclude each other, young people and old people have generation gaps, but this conversation has to happen with specific framing constraints so that the African-American experience is better understood and our institutions, services and programs start to reflect that understanding in how they are run and implemented. Talk only about the experience, history, and legacy of being Black -- leave the other topics for a different discussion -- and then do something with what you learn.

2) If you live in the United States, whether you are Muslim or not, become deeply aware of the reality we find ourselves in today. We are not in a post-racial America. Black people are very much so treated differently and a lot of that does stem from white privilege. The racism that we are dealing with is not someone calling someone else a bad word or a slur, but a racism that is structural, systemic and perpetuated through institutional mechanisms. It is overwhelming in its unfiltered injustice, an injustice that seeks to maintain a supremacy and privilege that is deliberate in who it lets in and who it keeps out. The only way to combat the ignorance upon which it is established it to acknowledge its existence, to educate ourselves about its roots, and then move to obliterate our own passivity and indifference towards the experience of Black men and women in this country as we seek to find sustainable solutions to counter it.

Now is not a time to no longer know -- it's no longer an excuse. All you really are saying then is that you don't want to know, or you just don't care to know.

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Imam Khalid Latif is blogging his reflections during the month of Ramadan for the fifth year in a row, featured daily on HuffPost Religion. For a complete record of his previous posts, visit his author page, and to follow along with the rest of his reflections, sign up for an author email alert above, visit his Facebook page or follow him on Twitter.

About a week ago, I woke up extremely congested. I had spent the night asleep under a blanket that I didn't realize was stuffed with something I am apparently allergic to. The first two hours of my day consisted of lots of sneezing, heavy breathing and headaches -- not so enjoyable to say the least. The inability to breathe through my nose made my sleep lacking in a lot of ways and my body and mind responded in turn with a lot of tiredness. I decided to just let it take care of itself and not take any medicine or get medical advice.

This morning, I woke up around 3 a.m. to have a meal before the sun started to rise and my first fast of Ramadan officially began. My head was spinning and chest was heaving as I struggled to breathe. I ate some fruit and drank some water, said my fajr prayer, the prayer that Muslims are required to pray at sunrise every day, and then sat on my couch trying to figure out with my wife, Priya, what to do about my breathing.

My throat felt like it had grown smaller and my heart felt it was struggling to keep up with the short breaths I was attempting to invigorate it with. I tried lying down in every position possible, blowing my nose excessively, and was ready to call the hospital until I decided to stand under a hot shower and see if the steam could help relax my breathing a bit. I felt an immediate release of pressure followed by a more gradual lessening. I was then able to fall back asleep for a little while around 6 a.m. until my daughter Madina, now two and half years old, woke me up a couple of hours later. She wanted to show me a necklace that she said she got from her friend Shyema, who is actually a friend of my wife and I, and more than 25 years older than Madina, telling me that it would look prettier on me. I said thank you.

My wife noticed some flowers in our bedroom, to which I usually have a slight allergic response, but nothing of this nature before. The fact that I had remnants from my previous sickness still with me made this second experience that much more challenging. Had I taken the measures to deal with it, this second wave of congestion wouldn't have had the impact it did. But my shortsighted decision left me in a place where the consequences were quite severe.

This morning, I also woke up to images and media outlining the horrific tragedies that took place last night in Charleston. Just like my body, my heart, my emotions, my spirit can retain remnants of past experiences in similar ways. If I have felt pain, I have felt anger, I have felt grief or sadness, and I am then met with something similar some time later, it will have that much more of an impact on me.

I feel Charleston as I have felt Ferguson. I feel Charleston and I have felt Baltimore. I feel Charleston as I have felt Syria, Burma, Gaza and Iraq. I feel for the nine victims, Cynthia Hurd, 54, Susie Jackson, 87, Ethel Lance, 70, Rev. DePayne Middleton-Doctor, 49, Hon. Rev. Clementa Pinckney, 41, Tywanza Sanders, 26, Rev. Daniel Simmons Sr., 74, Rev. Sharonda Singleton, 45, Myra Thompson, 59 and their family members as I felt for Deah, Yusor and Razan and the Barakat and Abu-Salha families. The layers of unreconciled experience can pile on top of each other, blending together and at times it is difficult to keep them separate. I feel pain and frustration on top of pain and frustration that never left. And as my Ramadan starts, I'm trying to understand what to do with it.

A failure to acknowledge and deal with illness doesn't mean that it's not there. I can pretend like I'm not sick, but my body will let me know otherwise. We can pretend like our society is not in pain and in need of healing, but atrocities like Charleston will let us know otherwise. Our indifference to the narratives of those distinct from our own coupled with our own egocentric priorities places us in the reality that we find ourselves in. Issues of race, class and privilege are the roots of our ailments, and unwillingness to recognize is leading us to a terrible place. With every death, our collective humanity is dying. With every failure to remedy injustice, we add to the pain. The assailant knew that he was going to kill the people he killed. He knew he was going to let one person survive to tell others of what happened. He will not be labeled thug or terrorist or any other term reserved only for the black and brown people of the world. He, as a young white male, will never represent anything or anyone other than himself, and the black lives that he took will only be known as his "victims," not part of a larger systemic issue, and worst of all, be made to seem as if they did not matter.

After last Ramadan, I prayed that this Ramadan would not be as intense. That there would not be as much injustice, death or violence. But on this first day, the reality of the world stands where it is. I have to decide if I will be a bystander to it or do my part to bring about a much needed change.

To me, fasting is about gaining a deeper awareness and mindfulness of one's self and, in turn, the world in which one is situated. From the outside it might seem like it's about deprivation of food and drink. But by shifting my focus away from a simple satiation of my stomach and looking more towards the satisfaction of my soul, I realize that are many different ways that I can nourish myself and many different parts of me that need to be nourished that I often times neglect, my heart being a primary amongst those. My fast helps me to be more present and aware, to see my blessings and reflect upon my strengths and weaknesses. It helps me to understand that as much as I have a place in this world, so too do many others whose lives are similar to my own as well as those whose lives have been completely different. It is mostly for my benefit to understand and appreciate their existence, rather than being comfortable living in my own bubble.

My thoughts and prayers are with the victims of this attack and their loved ones, the people of Charleston, and for all of us and our hearts. May we never become the reason people have dread in this world and always be the reason people have hope in it. Ameen.

I am not sure how regular I will be in writing reflections this year. I am hoping it will be frequent, but it may not be daily. I may also ask friends and colleagues to share their thoughts and write from time to time as well. As always, I appreciate those of you who have read them in the past and continue to read and share them with others.

As I did in the last four years of writing these reflections, I would like to start this fifth year of writing with a quote from a female Islamic scholar named Fariha Fatima al-Jerrahi that my wife Priya shared with me before we got married. But this year I read it with the people of Charleston in my heart and with an understanding why my fasting this year can't be just about me, but something much bigger than I am.

There are as many forms of fasting as there are organs of perception and sensation, and each of these has many different levels. So we ask to fast from all that Allah does not love for us, and to feast on what the Beloved loves for us.

Let us certainly fast from the limited mind, and all that it conjures up. Let us fast from fear, apart from fear and awe of Allah's majesty. Let us fast from thinking that we know, when Allah alone is the Knower.

Let us fast from thinking negatively of anyone. Let us fast from our manipulations and strategies. Let us fast from all complaint about the life experiences that Allah gives us. Let us fast from our bad habits and our reactions.

Let us fast from desiring what we do not have. Let us fast from obsession. Let us fast from despair. Let us fast from not loving our self, and from denying our heart. Let us fast from selfishness and self-centered behavior.

Let us fast from thinking that only what serves us is important. Let us fast from seeing reality only from our own point of view. Let us fast from seeing any reality other than Allah, and from relying on anything other than Allah.

Let us fast from desiring anything other than Allah and Allah's Prophets and friends, and our own true self. Essentially, let us fast from thinking that we have any existence separate from Allah.

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I live in New York city, the borough of Manhattan to be precise.

My religion mandates that I pray during 5 separate windows of time every day. Those times are determined based off of a cyclical pattern of the sun.

I was once eating dinner at a restaurant in Times Square when one of the prayer times came in that had a uniquely short amount of time to be performed in given the time of year it was and how short the days were. I excused myself from dinner, letting my friends know I needed to pray, and did my best to find a quiet place where I could for a few moments in the busiest and loudest part of New York City recenter and reflect. I was lucky enough to find a somewhat empty place outside of the restaurant and so I started to pray there on the sidewalk. Immediately after I started a tour bus filled with people pulled up in front of me and emptied itself to my prostrating with M&M World behind me. As I stared at the ground more intently than I've ever before, I felt their stares on me and a growing discomfort inside of me.

I live in a city that has more diversity than most places in the world - a city that has a rich tapestry of cultures and creeds lining its foundations. But diversity is only an achievement if it leads to a pluralism that acknowledges, accepts, and embraces both similarities and differences. A pluralism in which the most underserved and underprivileged are given the highest consideration and level of thoughtfulness instead of being written off by a stereotype that boxes them into one single variable of their identity.

As I tried to focus on my prayer, I heard whispers and wonder from the people getting off the bus. Amidst their conversations, an elderly woman from their group took a step towards me and where I was praying. When she got to my side, she took a look at the ground and then bent down in front of me for a moment and then walked away taking the rest of her group with her. She left in front of me a scarf that was wrapped around her neck so that I would have something cleaner than the NYC sidewalk to pray on. I don't even know what this woman looked like but I can tell you she is one of the most beautiful people that I've been blessed to have present and learn from in my life.

There will always be people who don't understand, who are fueled by hatred, racism and bigotry. The future of Islam depends on Muslims deciding whether we will be fueled by examples of hope or examples of hatred. Around me I see many who are doing more of the former than the latter, and finding in turn a courageous voice that is both speech and action.

The future of Islam to me is Linda Sarsour, a Brooklynite at heart who is poised to be one of the greatest Muslim leaders in the United States. Her passion, commitment and dedication to social justice for all people is remarkable and inspiring. Her recent march from NYC to Washington DC to raise awareness around the #BlackLivesMatter campaign is just one of many examples of her leadership.

The future of Islam to me is Zaytuna College, the United States first accredited Muslim College, helping to shape and build a generation of leaders that will add to the foundation of what we have today.

The future of Islam to me is Shaykh Abdullah Bin Bayyah, a respected figure and scholar across Muslim communities who consistently calls for peace, compassion, and tolerance and is a critical thinker and intellectual voice on the relationship of Islam and Modernity.

The future of Islam to me is one that recognizes and respects the tradition and past that it finds its roots in while understanding the needs and realities it lives in today. It appreciates ideas of continuity and change and looks to build a better existence for humanity on a whole. It doesn't live in reaction to the worse stereotypes that people have of it. It no longer simply says "I am not violent, I am not a terrorist, I am not oppressive to women." It no longer simply says what it is not, but it says what it is. It lives what it is and meets the discrimination of people by indiscriminately providing and helping everyone and anyone without condition and qualification. And not in response to the small-minded and bigoted, but simply because the purpose of Islam since its onset has been and continues to be to increase benefit and reduce detriment.

The future of Islam to me is every young man and woman that I am blessed to meet in the work that I do. Every ally and partner that I have been blessed to stand with and follow. Every person who is able to find a value within themselves and in turn use that same perspective to find value in those around them. Every one that realizes the importance of their individual narrative as well learning the narrative of those around them.

Life can be hard and cause a lot of damage. We are the tools needed to help heal each other. All of us. Not just some of us, including me and you.

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About a month ago, Duke University had made the courageous announcement that the Muslim call-to-prayer would be broadcasted weekly from its campus chapel. As much of the world was embracing anti-Muslim and Islamophobic sentiment, Duke seemingly had adopted a different attitude.

A little less than a month ago, many people made it clear that they weren't too happy with Muslims being made to feel welcomed. Duke announced that it would no longer be having the Muslim call-to-prayer broadcast, citing "serious and credible concerns about security" as a basis for their decision.

Last night those concerns came to fruition as up the street from Duke, Deah Barakat, his wife Yusor Abu-Salha and her sister Razan Abu-Salha, three young Muslim students, were killed near UNC Chapel Hill by a 46-year old white man named Craig Stephen Hicks. Letting hate prevail seemingly didn't work as a solution to stopping hate.

The anti-Muslim sentiment in the United States isn't just rising, it's really high. An unwillingness and indifference on the part of individuals and institutions to put it in check is a large part of the problem.

What do you think it teaches students at one of the top universities in the world when their administration says we can't stand up for a minority group on our campus? What does it teach those students who will be going out into the workforce, making decisions on policy, becoming academics, leading companies and building out their own initiatives?

The same thing that it teaches the broader society when mosques are kept from being open and built, when unjust surveillance and profiling policies are legitimized and implemented, when media has no problem making cursory links of every and any Muslim to terrorism, but dig deep to connect people of other backgrounds to troubled childhoods and mental health issues, and when politicians are allowed to build racist campaign platforms taking advantage of fear and ignorance. It teaches them that it's ok for Muslims to be treated differently, to in fact be mistreated, simply because they are Muslim, and that there is no problem with that.

There is, in fact, a huge problem with it.

It's a shame that people have to be killed for there to be a recognition of their value as humans. #BlackLivesMatter, #MuslimLivesMatter, are not simply calls for self-empowerment on the part of specific minority groups. To me, they are calls for a recognition that with each death,with each Eric Garner, each Deah Barakat, each Rafael Ramos & Wenjian liu, indifference is becoming more alive and in the process our shared humanity is dying.

Will there be droves of global leaders marching in the streets of North Carolina, elbowing each other to make sure they stand at the front of the pack and let the world know that they are outraged by the killing of these three innocent young Muslims? Probably not. But will you stand up, simply because you are able to and it's the right thing to do?

That question has to be answered in word and action by each one of us. Hopefully too many more people won't have to suffer in order for us to realize that.

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