Alongside the small winding road of downtown Antioch, a thick and smoky-colored delta leads to an anxious crowd of 300. Red layered bricks cover the front of City Hall on 3rd Street where protesters stand and wait. Narrow beige mats lay on the concrete surrounding the parking lot while women layered with patterned cloth around their heads and necks kneel down, their palms flat on the mats, praying humbly. Brightly colored signs peak out atop the crowd reading “Coexist,” “Hatred Destroys What Love Made,” and “One Race – Human Race,” among many others. Children huddle beneath their mothers’ arms, while the people await a powerful speech and a demonstration of faith and hope. The rally is headed toward a Muslim mosque that was set on fire in August.

The Islamic Center of the East Bay’s walls and roof are a dim blue. Graffiti covers the doors, and boards are nailed on top of the busted and foggy windows. The inside of the mosque is completely destroyed, leaving $400,000 in damage. Although the crime is not currently classified as a hate crime, the center has been attacked and broken into before. Some rooms are black — floors filled with soot and trimmings of wood. Other rooms are scarcely spared –books, fans and sheetrock are the only remnants scattered on the floors and walls.

A multitude of politicians and representatives from the police department hover over the microphone in front of City Hall. The children, men, and women - Muslims, Buddhists, Jews, Christians and Agnostics - lean forward in anticipation of the words that will prompt their walk through Antioch.

The group stands and waits for a speech of hope - a solution or future for the tragic events in their community. As the community’s leaders begin, the crowd's lingering conversation whittles to a whisper. Mayor Don Freitas focused on his own anger and embarrassment over the crime and how it was surprisingly transformed into a question of faith and forgiveness.

“This is an attack not only on the Islamic Center but on all of us, on all our faiths,” Freitas says into the microphone. “It made me very angry. But as the hours began to unfold, the exact opposite was happening. People were coming forward of all faiths, all nationalities, saying we are here to support the Islamic center."

In 1999 Mohammad Chaudhry, Abdul Rahman and numerous others opened the Islamic Center of the East Bay. The building chosen for the Center, once a hideout for the homeless, was renovated into a mosque with hopes of building a strong Muslim congregation. Before September 11, 2001 the mosque had no problems with vandalism or discrimination, but soon after the Twin Towers collapsed, the Center felt its shaky aftermath.

The War in Iraq has been a heavy burden on Muslim Americans in the United States. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, there are 1,300,000,000 Muslims in the world, accounting for 20 percent of the world’s religious followers. In relation to other faiths, Christianity has the highest percent of followers, at 34 percent. Because of the sensationalistic nature of the media, though, Islam has been too often associated with the War, terrorism, and fear.

Even with such a strong following, including in the U.S., there are still people “full of venom who feed off of hatred,” says mosque President Mohommad Chaudhry. “We came to transform the building into a beautiful place and now it is ashes. Whoever did this brought an ugly scar onto their country.”

In 2004 the mosque received voicemail messages threatening the religion and the mosque’s follower’s lives.

“Because of the media’s influences after 9/11, we got calls saying ‘Al Qaeda blew up our children, now we’ll blow up your children here!’” says Chaudhry.

On another occasion Chaudhry arrived to see that stones had been thrown through the windows leaving remnants of glass as a reminder of the ignorance that lingers in certain people. In January 2007, eight bullet holes were fired through the concrete walls, but even then Chaundry never expected that his place of faith would be burned to the ground.

Chaudhry migrated to the United States in 1984 seeking the American dream. He worked as an assistant professor in Pakistan and studied English literature in England before immigrating to America. His admiration for freedom, open-mindedness, religious acceptance and education fascinated him, leaving his goals for his new American community limitless. After eight years as president of the church, the fire came as a shock. But it also brought a multitude of supporters together to push for a hate-free environment, something Chaundry knew he could count on in America.

The Antioch protest was organized by East County United in part with Interfaith, a program celebrating all faiths in hope of a more tolerant community and world. The residents here are gathered not only to support the mosque but also to discuss two other recent acts of violence in Antioch and neighboring Brentwood.

On August 29th the Golden family returned to their Brentwood home to discover it ransacked, their walls painted with epithets, and their car stolen. The word “nigger” had been sprayed numerous times on the walls with black paint and family portraits were destroyed. According to Oakland Police, the family’s car was set on fire in Oakland - only after it had been stripped for any useable parts. The San Francisco chapter of the Anti-Defamation League is casing the incident as a hate crime, offering a $5,000 reward for any information.

The third event protestors hope to bring attention to took place on October 10th. Two Antioch teenagers were arrested on suspicion of a hate crime after they allegedly mimicked and beat – using a hoe, bricks and a stick – a group of deaf youth at a neighborhood party. One of the beaten youths was sent to the hospital with minor head injuries, and the two attackers were arrested with bail set at $135,000.

These three recent acts of hatred and ignorance have encouraged the community to stand up and be heard in attempt to stop the violence by coming together.

The term “hate crime” is powerful - it’s a phrase that represents an all-too-familiar scenario from our past. Overt racism, though, still exists in the world. Unfortunately both the public and the authorities find it difficult to admit that prejudice and biases are still acted upon. The term “hate crime” can only be placed on an act of violence, theft, or arson that has a clear connection to the perpetrator acting out of discrimination. This is sometimes difficult to prove. Only by acknowledging the unfortunate truth behind human nature, and by not being afraid to label crimes as hate crimes when necessary, is a solution to these crimes possible.

Protester Navid Amahd raises a ram’s horn high above the microphone and blows, making a protruding echo in the small rectangular parking lot.

“Let us prepare our hearts for the march!” he yells.

The protestors proudly raise their signs and make their way to the mosque as they talk to each other and shout to cars in the road. Passengers in passing cars honk and yell in acknowledgment while raising their fingers in peace signs out the windows. Red and blue blinking lights slowly illuminate the crowd as police motorcyclists keep the line moving.

As the crowd approaches the mosque, surrounded by a gray wire fence, they begin to weave the handles of their signs between the metal, creating a massive collage of colors and words. The fence is filled with words of hope, faith, and tolerance. These are words and phrases from all religions, nationalities, and lifestyles coming together for peace.

“We support different religions. We are one family of man,” says protester Jeannie Young. “It is sad when our world doesn’t reflect that.”

A few groups from the crowd walk to their cars as the afternoon wears on, but the majority walks a bit further - into the Beede Auditorium of Antioch High School for an Interfaith rally. President Mohammad Chaudhry opens the event after a presentation of Muslim music appears on an enormous projector. Four months prior to the fire, the Islamic mosque was fully paid off, but today only its charred walls stand.

“It was the construction of that building that represented freedom. We are still holding onto this dream. We have been hurt emotionally and spiritually. But we are not angry," says Chaudhry. "Hate destroys in moments what love makes in years.”