Across North Carolina, Muslim Students Take Stock of a Trying Semester

On the campus of the University of North Carolina here — and at nearby North Carolina State University — memories of the February killings of three young Muslims still linger.

The iconic symbol of the tragedy — black-and-white outlines of the victims’ heads and hijabs, with the tagline “Our Three Winners” — is still displayed on students’ Facebook profile pictures. There’s been a steady stream of charity events, including food drives and basketball tournaments. A scholarship fund has been set up to honor the victims. And there have been many moments of silence.

But as time passes, students — particularly Muslims who knew the victims — are left grappling with difficult questions: How could this have happened here? How does our religion fit on the campus? Is there a way to move on?

The three were shot and killed a month ago in a quiet off-campus apartment complex in Chapel Hill: Deah Shaddy Barakat, 23; his wife, Yusor Abu-Salha, 21; and her sister Razan Abu-Salha, 19. A neighbor, Craig Hicks, has been charged with murder.

Mr. Barakat was a student at Chapel Hill’s dental school; his wife had been accepted there. Both were North Carolina State graduates. The younger Ms. Abu-Salha was a sophomore at North Carolina State.

The motive surrounding the killings remains uncertain. Mr. Hicks’s wife said they stemmed from a longstanding parking dispute, but her husband had a history of anti-religious invective, and many observers have viewed the killings as a hate crime driven by Islamophobia.

Many Muslim students in North Carolina share that sentiment. But they prefer not to dwell on the details of the case. Instead, they talk about how the victims were their friends, how they played basketball with them, how they volunteered with them.

They talk about Deah and Yusor’s wedding, and Razan’s passion for art. They talk about how Deah and Yusor were involved in a charity to help Syrian refugees receive dental aid, and how at the time of his death, Deah was raising money to provide dental care to refugee students in Turkey this summer.

They talk about how all three were compassionate and devout, how they were active in the local, tight-knit Muslim community.

“They’re just a huge, huge part of the community,” said Hana Haidar, a senior at Chapel Hill. “I don’t think there’s anyone who didn’t know them.”

‘Emotional Roller-Coaster’

Even before the killings, it had been a difficult semester for Muslim students throughout the state of North Carolina.

Students and administrators at Wake Forest University had already rallied behind the associate chaplain for Muslim life, Khalid Griggs, after an alumnus waged a fierce campaign accusing him of being a radical jihadist.

Then, in January, Duke University announced that it would broadcast a Muslim call to prayer from the bell tower of the campus’s iconic Duke Chapel. Immediately after the announcement, Franklin Graham, the Christian evangelist, condemned the decision, calling on donors and alumni to withhold financial support from the university.

Adeel J. Zeb, Duke’s Muslim chaplain and director of Muslim life, said university officials also received death threats. Soon after, Duke reversed its decision.

Aamir Azhar, a freshman representative of Duke’s Muslim Students Association, said the controversy had at least served as a catalyst for conversation.

But it’s been a “painful emotional roller-coaster” for students, Mr. Zeb said. Many Muslim students felt unsafe, he said — and that was before the Chapel Hill killings. Afterward, he said, the university’s Muslims had “a very strong feeling that it could have been any of us.”

Ali Sajjad, president of North Carolina State’s Muslim Students Association, said some college women who cover their heads now feel unsafe or susceptible to prejudice. In fact, he said, some Muslim parents have told their daughters not to wear hijabs. “It’s crazy to think that people are being barred from their beliefs, that they’re forced to change because they’re scared,” he said.

Those concerns point to a broader question: Are campuses truly welcoming to Muslim students? Not completely, said Shamira Lukomwa, president of the UNC Muslim Students Association. “That’s the greatest myth of Carolina, that Carolina’s very inclusive,” she said. “In the end, it’s just a bunch of small communities that are in this area, and there’s not very much dialogue and interaction unless it’s about larger similarities.”

After the shootings, Ms. Lukomwa said, the campus came together briefly to grieve; now, the people still talking about the tragedy and the issues it has brought up are Muslims or students who were already affiliated with social-justice groups on the campus.

Yet while many Muslim students acknowledge that Islamophobia or a more subtle prejudice might exist at Chapel Hill, they insist that people here are mostly open-minded. “When I got to college, I was amazed at the fact that you could see students wearing hijabs, and they’re just completely normal students,” Ms. Haidar said.

The killings, she said, had prompted a call to action for people to educate others about Islam. The Muslim Students Association plans to host teach-ins on Islamophobia throughout the semester. “I hope that doesn’t die out, because obviously there’s some hidden prejudices that people have even in this community that we need to talk about,” she said.

Searching for Normalcy

The days and weeks immediately after the killings cast a somber mood on the campuses. But now many students say they are trying to move on.

“It’s obviously something I’ll never forget, but at the same time, I recognize that life does go on,” said Ahmad Saad, a senior at Chapel Hill who was friends with Mr. Barakat. “That’s just the nature of us as humans, of us especially as college students. Every day is 100 miles an hour. It’s on to the next assignment, on to the next group project, on to the next whatever.”

Yet many students who knew the victims still think about them all the time, Mr. Sajjad said. “It’s hard for a lot of us to return to a state of normalcy because they’re in the back of our heads,” he said. “I’m playing basketball, thinking of Deah in the back of my head. I’m just off my game, just not feeling it.”

It’s hard, he said, that his time in college is ending on such a dark note. But he still feels that some good has come from his friends’ deaths.

“I’ve been here four years, but I’ve made so many connections to people just this month,” he said. “There’s been a real sense of unity.”

People from all over the community have come together, Mr. Saad said. A vigil held in Chapel Hill the day after the killings, for example, attracted thousands of people.

“Regardless of faith, regardless of race, regardless of age—all these different little divisions that we separate ourselves by have been transcended,” Mr. Saad said. “It’s a very cool thing to watch.”

Audio by Lisa Philip