A shooting at a mosque and school in San Diego has left Muslim Americans asking themselves some deeply uncomfortable questions: Will other places of worship be targeted next? Can they still send their kids to school and expect them to come back alive? Can they walk down the street without being identifiable by their faith and treated accordingly? These are the sorts of existential queries that tend to follow armed attacks that kill three people.
Jewish communities, meanwhile, are pondering similar things after the stabbings in London's Golders Green neighborhood. Over the past three years, with wars in the Middle East providing a convenient backdrop, antisemitism and anti-Muslim hate have both flared across the West, each hitting record levels. But here's the thing: these two hatreds have rarely been seen as related dangers, let alone confronted as a common threat to society. Because obviously, when you're busy pitting Muslim and Jewish communities against each other, acknowledging they're both being targeted would be far too logical.