The attack on the London Bridge on Saturday was horrific and jarring, especially coming on the heels of the Manchester attack. In the aftermath of such events, we look for people to blame. Shortly afterward, British Prime Minister Theresa May commented that there is “too much tolerance” of Islamist extremism in Britain. Although May did not single out Muslims in her statement, she seems to be implying that people willingly and knowingly tolerate extremists. The rise in hate crimes against Muslims since the Manchester attack reveals a similar sentiment about terrorism and Muslims that often bubbles up to the surface right after such an incident: that all Muslims are somehow responsible for terrorism and that it is our duty to prevent it from happening again.

I wish I could prevent them, because random killings and the fear they invoke are all too familiar. I wish I could, because I long for the Pakistan I knew as a child.

I grew up in a Pakistan where I enjoyed a relatively high degree of freedom. During those blistering, scorching, long summer days, the only creatures venturing out were crows and young children. Even the chameleons hid in the thick shade of the mango trees on such days. But we were free to roam. My siblings and I walked unsupervised to our cousins’ house in the neighborhood to play cricket or tag, deliver a message or just for company.

My memories of elementary school include a kind kindergarten teacher who wore a red coat in the wintertime. She would playfully tuck my hands in her coat pockets to keep them warm when I was cold. I remember learning multiplication tables and learning the words of Pakistan’s national anthem. My fears, the ones I remember, were probably the same as those of kids elsewhere — fear of the dark, forgetting to study for an exam, reptiles.

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