Don’t Let Grief Become A Weapon

A few days ago, the Boulder community experienced an act of horror that will take a long time to heal from. Mohamed Sabry Soliman threw a makeshift Molotov cocktail, setting people on fire, as bystanders watched in shock and disbelief. I was stunned when I first heard what had happened. While many in the city are grieving and searching for answers, others are responding in a more cynical manner. As national attention converges on Boulder County, some are wasting no time in using it to their advantage.

I’m not here to make sweeping claims about what should happen next, or how this could have been predicted or prevented. I’m not here to make assumptions about the suspect, his motives, or the victims. But I will say this: we must not let this tragedy, or the opportunists exploiting it, drag us away from our values and into hatred.

Firstly, Yellow Scene Magazine has been consistently clear in our stance: we condemn the genocide in Gaza. Our criticism of Israel does not make it difficult for us also to condemn lighting people on fire or to recognize this for what it is: a tragedy. Many victims remain hospitalized, some may not survive, and many more are traumatized and forever affected. The grief people are feeling is legitimate. What isn’t legitimate is the attempt to paint this act of violence as representative of broader political movements or ideologies.

 This was not the work of a radicalized twenty-something college student. Nor was it the act of a leftist radical fighting in the name of Marx. The alleged attacker is an Egyptian man in his 40s, who had reportedly been planning this act for over a year; his relationship to the war and its trauma likely looks nothing like that of the average American protester. Attempts to use this incident to demonize the left, to vilify those who’ve spoken up for Palestinians, or to tie this act to pro-Gaza advocacy are not just dishonest; They are calculated and opportunistic at best, and dangerously misleading at worst.

We know what pro-Palestinian advocacy in Boulder and Colorado looks like. We’ve covered it: art exhibits with kites carrying the last words of dead Palestinians killed; a peaceful protest against military contractors, press conferences in Denver where Palestinian community members elevated South Africa’s case, accusing Israel of genocide; a fast last week in protest of starvation in Gaza. The connection between this man and those actions is tenuous at best, and often manufactured by people with an agenda. I point to the many forms Palestinian advocacy has taken in Boulder and Colorado, not to claim there’s a single legitimate way to protest, but to reject the attempt to conflate principled dissent with indiscriminate violence.

Yes, this attack follows the embassy firebombing in D.C., and now some are calling it the start of a violent “pattern.” But what exactly is starting? This pattern of violence didn’t begin last week or the week before; it’s been there all along. It just wasn’t politically convenient to name it until now.

Just last month, Joseph Czuba, an Illinois man, was sentenced to 53 years for murdering a six-year-old Palestinian-American boy simply because he believed all Muslims should die. A few months ago, two people were shot in Miami because the perpetrator was “hunting Palestinians.” And that’s not even touching the violence faced by protestors, like the UCLA students who were brutalized by a masked mob and then shot with rubber bullets by police, or the relentless, daily violence in Gaza and the West Bank. Since breaking the ceasefire, Israel has killed hundreds of Palestinians. On March 18, 2025, the death toll hit 600 in a single 24-hour period. Four hundred of those were children.

This is not whataboutism. The other instances of violence I’ve mentioned don’t erase what happened in Boulder. They don’t minimize the pain, the horror, or the real human suffering. What they do call into question is the idea that violence is unique to the “left” or somehow inherent to those who support Palestinian liberation. They also expose a painful double standard: the violence inflicted on Gaza and those who advocate against the genocide treated very differently than violence committed against the Jewish community or, more precisely, supporters of Zionism 

Has antisemitism risen since October 7th and the discourse that followed? Undoubtedly. And we must take that rise seriously. In many ways, we have. Since the Boulder attack, we’ve seen dozens of think pieces, statements from the governor and president, and swift condemnation. There’s also been heightened scrutiny, and in some cases, outright crackdowns, on anyone who dares to say “Free Palestine.”

I find gratitude in the fact that the Jewish community is supported in moments of grief. What troubles me is how quickly that support is weaponized into suspicion, surveillance, and slander, painting the millions of Americans who’ve marched for Palestinian rights as terrorists or enemies of the state. And I think it’s worth asking: where was this urgency, this outrage, this reflex to protect, when it was Palestinians being bombed and brutalized? Where is it now, as Islamophobia quietly surges? This question feels especially sharp in Boulder, where the city council has passed a declaration condemning antisemitism, but not Islamophobia. These disparities make something clear: for many in power, this moment isn’t just about healing. It isn’t even solely about protecting Boulder’s Jewish community. It’s about who gets to be seen as deserving of protection and who doesn’t. It’s about whose grief moves institutions, and whose grief is ignored. In the end, it’s about power. 

Trump used the attack to blame immigrants and justify his authoritarian, hateful immigration policies. Never mind that most mass shootings in this country are carried out by white men, many of whom cite Trump in their manifestos. And now, unsurprisingly, the attacker’s family has been detained by ICE. All of this unfolds against the backdrop of an increasingly aggressive effort to suppress free speech on Palestine. The fact is, Trump and the GOP don’t see this as a tragedy, they see it as an opportunity. A way to seize power by stoking fear. A chance to turn grief into hatred, toward immigrants, toward protesters, toward speech, and toward each other.

Hilary Kalisman, an assistant professor of history and the endowed chair of Israel/Palestine Studies in the Program in Jewish Studies at the University of Colorado Boulder, wrote in the wake of this moment: 

“I hope my community will never face an attack like this again. And I hope, too, that we will avoid becoming political pawns, for Israel’s government or for the current administration. The Middle East is still experiencing devastating violence; while it does, Jews and Palestinians here in the U.S. will both face unpredictable and complicated threats.

To help combat them, we must stop making assumptions of one another. Doing so means finding a space to listen — to do the nuanced work that moments like this can endanger, in our classrooms, our communities, and our country.” 

Her words say what I’ve tried to throughout this piece: we can hold grief without surrendering to fear. We can demand justice without becoming pawns. We can protect each other without collapsing into hate.