The lasting pain of hate

(Editor's note: Jennifer Roberts is a former Mayor of Charlotte and co-chair of The Commission on the Future of NC Elections)

The documentary film 36 Seconds: Portrait of a Hate Crime is a wrenching, intimate look into the wide and permanent swath of human misery left by a hate crime. Director/producer Tarek Albaba is a masterful story teller who unfolds the hate crime in such a personal way that the viewer feels they too are a member of the victims’ families.

But this film does not just capture “a harrowing moment in recent US history” (Cinema Daily US), and one that touches close to home here in North Carolina, as the triple murder took place in Chapel Hill in 2015.  It powerfully captures the lasting pain and trauma shared not just by families of hate crime victims but by entire communities.  Albaba tells the story through a compelling blend of actual TV and media footage, courtroom recordings, police interview tapes, and intimate interviews with the parents and siblings of the victims. But what he uncovers is the generational and persistent trauma of a Muslim community that is forever fearful of being taunted, bullied, discriminated against, attacked, and even murdered just because of who they are and how they choose to worship.

It is a deeply American story.

With hate crimes on the rise in America, we desperately need more people to view this film. I fear that too many in America have become de-sensitized to the anger and hate and gun violence that seems to dominate our news cycle. It can be overwhelming, but it can also seem distant if we choose to skip over the headlines or change the channel when yet another mass shooting occurs. Many Americans have gotten too proficient at classifying those who are different as “the other,” and de-humanizing them so that violence seems less horrific.  Some Americans may be convincing themselves that perhaps the victims provoked an attack, or that the killer had mental health problems, and there is nothing that can be done for aberrant behavior. Indeed, in this attack, the initial police reports and media coverage presented the violence as the outcome of a neighborhood dispute over parking places. The police believed the initial lies of the killer, a white man. The film points out that this willingness to believe the criminal so readily points out - once again - the inherent bias of law enforcement and of our society in general. 

The film is a cry for justice. It is a plea for each one of us to recognize the humanity in our neighbors and our colleagues, especially those who may be different in their heritage, their religion, their race, even in the way they dress. It is gut wrenching, it is graphic, it is real. But what shines out equally is the strength, the courage and the love of the Muslim families who will be forever scarred and changed by this tragedy.

This film is being screened in universities and communities across our state, but has not yet been picked up by Netflix or any other national streaming service. I watched it at Queens University of Charlotte during a screening that was hosted by the Belk Chapel and Muslim Students Association there.

I encourage everyone to watch it, as difficult as it may be, especially in a screening that allows for discussion afterwards. More Americans need to realize why classifying something as a hate crime matters. And more of us need to recognize and acknowledge the trauma that persists in the aftermath of hate crimes. It is my hope that touching this pain may make us think twice before getting angry with someone who is different, or voicing a racial slur, or pre-judging someone based on their looks, their clothing, or their accent. Those of us who are white and Christian need to be better allies, and we need to call out bias and racial and ethnic profiling when we see it.  We all need to find and support alternatives to hate and violence in our country if we are to save more from the pain that leaps out of this film – and if we are to save the soul of our democracy itself.

"For there is always light,
if only we're brave enough to see it,
If only we're brave enough to be it."

- Amanda Gorman