On Saturday night in El Cajon, Calif., Iraqi-born Shaima Alawadi was beaten to death in what appears to be a clear hate crime. The perpetrator left a note reportedly reading: "Go back to your own country. You're a terrorist." Such a vicious crime is already horrific enough; the hateful, ignorant motivations that seem to be behind it make it even worse.

My heart and thoughts go out to Alawadi's family and community, who are surely reeling with shock and grief. And honestly, we all should be. While it's clear we live in a country where harmful stereotypes of Muslims abound and create a culture in which events like this seem on some level unsurprising, it is simply unacceptable. And we all need to stand up, speak up, and do everything that we can to stop this from happening.   

Commentary on this horrific murder is all over social media, a fact which seems to garner more New York Times coverage than the murder itself. I saw a tweet the other day that poignantly drew a parallel between the murder of Alawadi and that of Trayvon Martin:

From #TrayvonMartin to #ShaimaAlawadi - from hoodies to headscarves. it's been a sad week, America. #LoseTheHate

— Amina Waheed (@atwaheed) March 25, 2012

Stereotypes and profiling engender a dangerous thought process: Alawadi was a Muslim who wore a head scarf, so she must be a terrorist; Martin was a black youth who wore a hoodie, so he must be a criminal. Among other things, these attitudes distance people as "other" and dehumanize them.

The damage and pain caused by such attitudes is obvious, as we see in these recent headlines. But it's even more insidious than first glance reveals. The prevalence of individuals who engage in this kind of profiling and "othering" makes it possible to pass legislation that does the same, like the recent anti-immigrant laws in Arizona. In effect, this creates a feedback loop in which those laws bolster the individual attitudes, which further reinforce discriminatory laws, ad infinitum. Stereotyping and profiling create a culture of fear that reaches all levels of our culture, from individual interactions to broad government policy. And we must break this cycle.

We can start on an individual level. In the midst of these tragic murders, I hope that people will band together against hate and start truly building bridges of understanding among the many people and cultures our country is home to. UUSC works every day against hateful racial and religious profiling, and we want you to join us. There is no place for Islamophobia, for racism, or for oppression of any kind in the world we are trying to create.

"Where are you from?" has always been a tough question for me.

I was born and raised in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. However, due to citizenship laws that prevail in most Persian Gulf countries, I inherited the citizenship of my parents. They are Tanzanians of Indian descent. Thus, I was considered a Tanzanian citizen although I never lived there. My language and culture is dominantly that of my ancestors from Gujarat, India. I moved to Minnesota when I was 17 and strongly began to identify myself as a Minnesotan and to this day am very proud of the state's culture and progressive politics. As a Muslim, the tragedy of 9/11 and President Bush's policies that followed inevitably affected me and that is how I began my life in American politics. To top that, since I am a Shia Muslim, the war in Iraq has had a profound effect on me and my community as we see our beliefs and history displayed on all the major media outlets around the world.

Why am I sharing this with you? Well, on Friday, after living in the United States for eight and a half years, I was sworn in as a citizen of this country. It was one of the most important days of my life. Many of my family members and friends wonder why I would want to be an American citizen when the United States has violated the civil liberties of law-abiding Muslim, Arab, and South Asian Americans, has engaged in wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and has supported policies, including torture, that adversely affect Arabs and Muslims around the world.

My answer to them is that despite the destructive policies of the Bush administration, I have faith in the rights that are guaranteed to me by the Constitution. I strongly believe in the rights that have been enshrined in the Bill of Rights, especially those guaranteed by the First Amendment. These are the very rights that I exercise every day when I practice my religion freely as a Muslim American and express disagreement with the government on issues such as torture and the war in Iraq. The fact that I can write this blog entry is a testament to those rights. It is why I have chosen to work with the Civil Liberties Program at UUSC. Our program's goals are to restore and protect civil liberties that have been eroded under this administration for people like me.

As I was being sworn in as a citizen during my naturalization ceremony, I was humbled to be amongst 1,100 people from 85 countries who had chosen to take this step. I feel very strongly American and don't want anyone to ever question my patriotism or question my "American-ness" because of the way I look or the religion I follow or my political inclinations. For me, I finally feel I have found a place I can belong to and call home. It is here that all my identities merge and make it possible to be part of the American fabric that has been enriched by immigrants since the founding of this country. As Barack Obama has aptly said, "...for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on earth is my story even possible."

What would you say about a U.S. law that leads to an incarceration rate that tips so heavily against one minority group that that single group comes to represent 85 percent of the total incarcerated under that law? What would you say if that minority group, African Americans, represents only 12 percent of the total population? What if you discovered that a shocking 96 percent of those prosecuted under that law were either black or Latino?

That law would be called draconian. It would be called racist. And those targeted by the law would be called people whose rights were violated.

Under federal sentencing laws passed in the mid-1980s, crack-cocaine offenders – mostly African American and Latino – have received harsher sentences than individuals convicted of powder-cocaine offenses. Under these same laws, standards for penalizing crack-cocaine offenses are 100 times more severe than they are for powder-cocaine offenses, and federal judges have no leeway to impose lighter sentences.

In a tremendous victory for racial justice, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Watson v. United States on December 10, 2007, that judges can ignore unjust sentencing guidelines that recommend harsher sentences for crack-cocaine offenses. Quickly following that decision, the United States Sentencing Commission voted unanimously to lighten punishments retroactively for crimes related to crack cocaine – calling the disparities “unwarranted.” These decisions should affect some 19,500 federal inmates.

Especially interesting for those in the human rights community, the Supreme Court issued its decision on International Human Rights Day. Dovetailing on my earlier blog post ("Human Rights Day As a Reminder"), I invite you to see this decision as a step towards resolving a pressing human rights issue in the United States – violations of racial antidiscrimination standards and equal rights.

Yesterday, it was hard to reach several of our partners in Louisiana involved with disaster response to Hurricane Katrina, because they were all on buses going to another kind of disaster response -- the rally against the racism and injustice in Jena. UU ministers and congregants from Baton Rouge and New Orleans were also on buses to Jena.

Jena is a small town in Louisiana that reminds those of us who need reminding that racism still runs deep in our country. A tree in one of Jena's schoolyards was known as a "whites-only tree." Some African American students asked the principal if they could sit under that tree. He said yes and they did. The next day, three white students hung nooses from that tree in the school colors. They got a three-day suspension and the school superintendent called it "a prank. " Some prank. The racial tension mounted quickly over the next several months.

According to the Color of Change website, as racial tensions mounted, threats of violence were made against African American students, some of which were carried out. A black student was beaten up by white students at a party. The next day, black students at a convenience store were threatened by a young white man with a shotgun, but the district attorney took no action.

Then a white student, who had been a vocal supporter of the students who hung the nooses, taunted the black student who was beaten up at the off-campus party, allegedly using the "n-word" to refer to several other African American students. He was beaten up by African American students. In this case, action was swift: six African American teens were arrested and initially charged with aggravated battery and intent to kill. Although the white youth had been bloodied and bruised, he did not sustain serious injuries. The bail posted for the six African American teenagers ranged from $90,000 to $138,000. (Bill Quigley relates the whole story in Truth Out.)

The mass demonstration in Jena yesterday was held to protest the double standards of justice for whites and blacks. Mychall Ball, the first student tried, was defended by a public defender to an all-white jury, and called by a white prosecutor. The trial was presided over by a white judge. The public defender presented no evidence and called no witnesses in defense of his client, who was summarily sentenced to 22 years in jail. The case was later thrown out of court by another judge because Ball was a minor and could not be tried as an adult. Nonetheless, he is still in jail, where he has been held since December 2006. The other young men involved in this matter also remain in jail -- none of them have yet to be tried, but their lives are being ruined as day after day goes by while their families struggle to raise the exorbitant bails.

My first response was: how can this be happening? But one of our partners said to me, "I am surprised that you are surprised, particularly after all you have seen down here after the hurricane." She was telling me that to be surprised is a luxury, while for her it is a bitter reality. She was right. This is not a time for surprise, only outrage.

Written by Nick Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

It was about a year ago that I first learned about Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey, a JustWorks camp of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee. I read the description of the program after my parents first mentioned it to me, and I was intrigued. As a participant, I would have the opportunity to go visit all the sights of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s, and work in one of the local communities that we would be visiting.

This sounded great to me, as I had never had a chance to really visit the South in any capacity other than Florida, and I thought it would be good to familiarize myself with this part of my country, and get to see the historic and exciting landmarks of the civil rights movement. I jumped on the opportunity. I had absolutely no idea of what I was getting into.

My dad, my friend Ari Brouwer, and I embarked for Atlanta the Friday before the Civil Rights Journey began, and arrived Saturday. I was ready to see the sights that, for some unbelievably naïve reason, I thought I had a good understanding of. After spending the next day at Ebenezer Baptist Church and the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Center, the concept of understanding was blown thoroughly out of my mind.

I don’t believe that I had ever felt as humble as I did walking in the shadows of these civil rights giants, and learning of the thousands of individuals who played such a pivotal role in the movement, especially the children. Also, I met Dr. King's sister, which was almost surreal.

Throughout the trip, I continued to read and hear about more and more people who had contributed to the movement, including Nelson Malden, the barber of Dr. King. His stories of the Montgomery bus boycott and his firsthand experiences with Dr. King were amazing to hear. In fact, from the mayor of Selma, James Perkins, to Sam Walker at the Voting Rights Museum in Selma, to Greg Atchinson of Montgomery, every story opened a wealth of new knowledge to me that my school curriculum seemed to left out.

Although the whole trip was amazing, the one experience that stood out to me the most were our nightly meetings with Kimberly Richards of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond. When I first heard about these meetings, I figured they were sort of something we would endure at night in order to get to the next day of sight seeing. This may have been the worst judgment I made all trip. Miss Richards showed us all ideas of race and racism in this country that I had never touched. She showed us the system of racism in this country, one that I had really thought was over.

No one had ever explained to me before that our nation was founded on the ideology of race in order to sustain the power of Europeans. She explained the racial tensions we all feel, and it was truly enlightening. For me, who had always thought that of course I was not a racist, racism just comes from ignorant people and the KKK, I realized how wrong I really was.

If you get the opportunity to go on this journey, do it. You will come back with tools to attempt to achieve racial equity in your own communities, and knowledge you may have not known was out there. It truly was a "Civil Rights Journey."

Written by John Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

This was such a transformative week, seeing civil rights history come alive. To me, the day that stands out the most was our day in Selma, although it was typical of encounters that we had throughout the week. There, Sam Walker of the National Voting Rights Museum gave us a run-down of the events that led to the Selma-to-Montgomery march for voting rights in Alabama, an event that was one of the greatest triumphs of the civil rights movement, and which helped to spark movements throughout the nation.

The stories we heard were local ones: middle school kids running out of school early to join in protests in front of the Dallas County Courthouse; driving by the auto dealership of the man who was the primary suspect in the killing of Rev. James Reeb after Bloody Sunday (the dealership is still owned by the suspect and in business today); local women who worked tirelessly to pay poll taxes and train African Americans how to pass the voting literacy tests; personal memories of Bloody Sunday when state police beat nonviolent protesters after they crossed the Edmund Pettis Bridge; and of setting up camps along the route for the march to Montgomery.

Throughout the week we met ordinary people, like Nelson Malden of Montgomery, who cut Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s hair, and who not only recalled conversations with him, but shared his memories of the relationship of Dr. King to the Montgomery community. We watched the Spike Lee documentary, "Four Little Girls," in the presence of Chris McNair, father of Denise McNair who was killed at the age of 11 when a white supremacist ignited a bomb on September 15, 1963 in the 16th Street Baptist Church.

We experienced all of this with a group of honest, sincere, good humored people -- some Black; some white; some late into their middle age years; some in their early teens. It was an honor to spend a week with each and every one of them. What I'll take away the most is that the civil rights movement was certainly one of charismatic and brave leaders, but also of ordinary people who can inspire all of us today to take a stand against the injustices that have resurfaced with such force.

A couple of thoughts:

• At least three people who we spoke with said that they had never seen the United States more polarized either internally -- or around the world -- than ever before. These were people who had seen "Bull" Connor drive around Birmingham inside of a white tank terrorizing the African American population.
• On the last day, we all participated in service projects in Birmingham. Mine was at a social service organization serving adults obtaining a GED. We were in charge of cleaning out and reorgaizing a storage shed behind the center. The center looked to be a place that did amazing work with very few resources -- much like other similar organizations I have seen in Pennsylvania. All around the center were photocopied pictures and posters of images that we had seen all week: protesters being fire-hosed, photos of the girls killed at 16th Street Baptist Church, etc. It was a reminder of how important and alive the moment in history that we learned about this week is to the people in communities all over the South, and especially in Alabama.

Written by Nancy Nienhuis, a participant in the fourth annual Civil Rights Journey.

Imagine walking into your polling station and before someone hands you the ballot, they tell you you have to answer a couple of questions. "Okay," you say. And then they ask you, "How many bubbles in a bar of soap?" and "How many feathers on a chicken?" You can't answer, so they tell you that you can't vote.

Those questions were actually on the test they used to give blacks in the south in order to remove them from the voting lists. Whites didn't have to pass the tests. This is just one of the many things I learned this week during the Civil Rights Journey.

These days have been packed with information -- did you know that during the Montgomery Bus Boycott many bus drivers were laid off and became police officers?!? We've walked where Dr. King walked, we've talked to people who knew him. We've even heard from Mr. Nelson, the man who used to cut his hair.

On this trip, history not only comes alive, it talks to you. I'll never think about civil rights in the same way. Some things we've encountered made us shake our heads with wonder at how inhumanely people can treat each other -- Birmingham police turning dogs on children, for example. And other things give us hope. The heroes of the movement aren't the ones who made the changes we know now. The changes were made by everyday people, by people like me and people like you who, when the time came, chose to do something instead of walk away.

More than anything else, this trip and the history I've been introduced to in such a personal way remind me that I keep the fight alive and keep us all moving forward when I choose in every small moment of a regular day to do the right thing. No matter how tired, I must do this. If 500 people can March from Selma to Montgomery under threat of death, I can do this.

Thalia Twins is writing about the recent Return to the Earth JustWorks camp.

My name is Thalia Twins. I am of Cheyenne, Caddo, Kiowa, and Comanche decent. My parents moved back to Oklahoma from Los Angeles, Calif., when I was only five so that my brothers as well as myself would know who we are and where we came from.

Clinton, Okla., is where my Cheyenne side lived, so I was primarily raised Cheyenne, but also learned about my other tribes and traditions. Spending most of my childhood in Clinton, a sense of community is something I learned early on with family and other families.

Lawrence Hart, knowing me most of my life, approached me with an opportunity to be a part of Return to the Earth project. Once I became familiar with what the project did, it became apparent how much a project like this was needed. Being able to repatriate and bring restorative justice of ancestors lost or forgotten is a feeling of vindication as part of the human race.

I was honored to be asked to document the Return to the Earth project, especially since film is my ultimate goal. Working with Lawrence on bringing this project to life as well as documenting it is a phenomenal experience. It also allowed me to meet the people from UUSC during the week-long JustWorks camp. The people involved got to learn a little history from the morning lectures from Lawrence Hart, and worked hard painting, cleaning, and doing work in the garden during the afternoon. It was a definite ecumenical effort.

Having UUSC be a part of the process is so refreshing. Having the JustWorks camp come in to help finish the building dedicated to holding the remains seems small but, in fact, is a crucial and important part of the process. The building is going to be used to hold the remains until they are reported to the federal register and they are ready for actual burial.

I also learned so much about the people involved, especially the staff. Interviewing the different people, personalities, and background gave me a wide scope to draw from.

I believe that responsibilities from our ancestors have been left for our generations to take care of. A friend asked me, "How come you waste time stuck in the past when you should be worrying about the future?" But I don’t believe it's wasting time or energy. On the contrary, taking care of the past ensures a stable place to move forward from. Not having closure is a factor in why so many of our Nations are having so many struggles.

It was an honor and it was interesting to be able to work with the different people from UUSC. It helped me understand what the organization is and what it does.

John Dewell is a participant in the Return to the Earth JustWorks camp.

Sitting here at the Cheyenne Cultural Center in Clinton, Okla., during a break at the UUSC JustWorks camp held during the third week of March 2007, I am reflecting on the words of Lawrence Hart, the center's executive director, during our daily educational classes.

As I have painted oil pipe fencing and the exterior of the third building constructed, and pruned and cleaned the Native plants garden, I have reflected on the situations and circumstances that left over 100,000 Native American remains and artifacts to sit on the shelves of university and museum storage rooms, often in the bowels of that institution.

People who lived the Red Way and honored Mother Earth were cast off after being destroyed by the Europeans who came and claimed their land. A proud people, who Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Paine, and other founding fathers looked to in establishing the government to run this new country of the United States of America.

It was a civilization of 538 tribes with a loving and caring familial system which treasured their children, protected the family structure, and treated their elders with respect. Death did not end this system of caring, respect, and protection. The dead were venerated and sent to the next life with a sacredness that said you, as the bison, have given us much and we place you in a safe and holy place.

The government during the hostilities with various tribes, the resettlement begun by Jackson and many presidents who followed, and the collectors who unearthed and sold or studied these remains and artifacts as if they were buried treasure, leave me anguished.

Last night, GA 2006 took flight at the America's Center in St. Louis. The opening celebration of GA had many notable moments.

GA opened, as it should, with music from the Jazz Edge Orchestra, a wonderful, 17-piece big band. Several welcomes, reflections and a couple of the longest hymns I have ever sung followed the Jazz Edge.

Dr. James McLeod, of Washington University's College of Arts and Sciences, spoke eloquently of the role of Unitarian minister Charles Greenleaf Eliot in the founding of Washington University and in the creation of a public school system in St. Louis. The First Unitarian Church of St. Louis, founded by Eliot, has had a continuous presence in St. Louis for 171 years.

About midway through the program, Linda Friedman, chair of the GA Planning Committee rose to give the Native American acknowledgement that has characterized every GA since 1998. This one was a little different than in previous years. Her job was to tell the Assembly why the traditional nod to the First Nations would not occur.

The Planning Committee had the perfect person to contact the Osage Indians that had once roamed over 30 million acres of land around the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers. One member of the Planning Committee had close connections with the Osage, having worked on their reservation in Oklahoma years earlier.

The Osage elders that she visited remembered her and welcomed her. But when asked if they would come to participate in the opening of the General Assembly, they gave an unexpected response.

"Why should we drive four hours [from Kansas City] to speak for two minutes at your meeting so that you can all feel good about yourselves. That work is your work, and you should do it."

So there was no Native American acknowledgement last night, or was there? In the telling of the dispossession of the Osage, and the response they got from the Osage elders, the UUA may have achieved more than it would have with the usual acknowledgement.

It was a night for introspection. As part of his opening remarks, Rev. William Sinkford noted that "in Fort Worth last year we fell short of our exectations. Sinkford noted that some youth of color left last year's GA feeling disrespected and wondering if Unitarian Universalism could be a spiritual home for them. He spoke frankly of that challenge and pointed the audience to a report on the GA 2006 incidents written by a UUA commission. I consider it good news that we are ready to confront such challenges rather than sweep them under the rug.

The crowd at this year's GA feels larger and more enthusiastic than last year's. I'm looking forward to speaking with lots of UUs about the world and UUSC's modest contribution to making it a better place.