The day after an Australian terrorist claimed the lives of fifty Muslim worshippers at their mosques in Christchurch, I attended a vigil in central Melbourne. I wanted to mourn alongside other people, in particular other members of racialised minorities. The bloodshed may have taken place in New Zealand, but this was an Australian hate-crime that we had long anticipated. And those of us who were reviled as ‘invaders’ in the killer’s manifesto remain in the cross-hairs of the far-right.

Although I do not wear hijab on a routine basis, I have sought to make my religious identity more visible since the morning after the election of Donald Trump, when I lifted the scarf that was draped across my shoulders and drew it over my head. I wore a headscarf to the vigil so that my hair would be covered during the prayers, but also because it seemed appropriate for the somber nature of the occasion.