I have a question in my mind — do we belong?” This simple yet profound question was recently posed by Sunayana Dumla, the widow of Srinivas Kuchibhotla, the Indian engineer who died in the bar shooting in Olathe, Kansas. Her heartbreaking question assumes significance because the tragic shooting is being investigated as a possible hate crime, and it comes against a backdrop of rising anti-immigrant sentiments in the US.

Although the White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, has suggested that it would be absurd to claim any connection between President Trump’s statements on immigrants and Muslims and the shooting in Kansas, certain facts are shockingly clear. First, the Kansas shooter, Adam Purinton, hurled racial slurs at the two Indian men at the bar in Olathe, and asked them to “get out of my country” before shooting them and another American, Ian Grillot, who pursued Purinton. Shortly after this incident, Purinton was allegedly heard at another bar talking about shooting two Middle Eastern men. Is it a mere coincidence that the shooter’s zeal for cleansing “his” country of “Middle Eastern men” (notwithstanding the apparent confusion in this regard between people of Middle Eastern and South Asian origin) comes close on the heels of President Trump’s anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim rhetoric and recent executive orders?

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On the contrary, Americans who view immigrants with suspicion and resentment have had their biases and prejudices vindicated by recent pronouncements and policies emanating from Washington, DC. The actions and words of the new administration can be perceived as emboldening perpetrators of hate crimes. The resentment at the so-called browning of America, anger at foreigners stealing American jobs, or the fear of Muslim refugees planning to attack America are no longer popular constructs driven by conspiracy theorists. Instead, these grievances and fears, often irrational, have received the Presidential seal of approval. The resentment towards the outsider, the Muslim refugee, the brown-skinned immigrant — in other words, targets who can conveniently be blamed and easily confronted — has reached dire proportions. Amidst a bleak social and economic landscape for working class families in large swathes of America — devastated by loss of jobs, wage stagnation, the opioid epidemic, and a rise in suicide rates — the temptation to blame the proverbial outsider and even take matters into one’s hand cannot be accidental. This is especially true when the rhetoric and fury emanating from the Alt-Right media and more recently from Washington, DC keep muddying the waters, without offering any meaningful long-term solutions to the socioeconomic troubles plaguing the white middle class.

In fact, the emergence of a certain trend towards a more intolerant, racist, and a less welcoming society has been quite clear for some time now. According to the FBI, hate crimes increased by 6 per cent in 2015 compared to 2014, and the increase was mainly driven by a surge in attacks against American Muslims. Not surprisingly, there was a spurt in hate crimes following Mr. Trump’s victory in the election last November. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, there were 867 incidents of hate crime involving harassment or intimidation in just the ten days following the presidential election — between November 9 and 18. These data were compiled by the Center based on both direct reporting by the public to its website and from media reports. A disconcerting 280 of these 867 incidents, or almost a third, were motivated by anti-immigrant sentiments. Over the past three and a half months, incidents of hate have involved assaults against Muslims; graffitis, racial slurs and harassment targeting African-Americans, Latinos, Asian Americans and other minority groups; and bomb threats against Jewish Community Centers. Depressingly, the list only keeps growing with each passing day.

Of course, even among immigrants, individual circumstances vary. Many still feel welcome and relatively secure in their homes, communities, and work places. I know my family and I do, living in a predominantly White suburb of Houston, Texas — traditionally Republican, and a vibrant city with racially and ethnically diverse population. There are friendly, smiling faces greeting us in our neighborhoods, at my daughter’s school, at the local grocery or pharmacy, and in restaurants. There are few, if any, in the immigrant community here who would wish to pack their bags and leave because of a single tragic incident.

Unfortunately what is also true is that nationwide, among immigrants as well as ethnic and religious minorities, there is a heightened sense of insecurity, in general. A certain fear of being targeted, of being singled out, or even being insulted or attacked because of appearance, skin colour, or religion. While some of that was true even before the elections last November, the fear and anxiety have certainly grown over the past few months, and in particular, during the first five weeks of the new administration. There is a palpable sense of unease and foreboding. Perhaps of living in fear of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents turning up on doorsteps, or the fear of being targeted for their appearance or of a frustrated angry gunman cutting short a life full of promise. Of somebody turning the American dream to a crushing nightmare.

Ironically, it seems spring is arriving early — at least in the southern United States. It has certainly announced its arrival here in southeast Texas, with mild temperatures, the occasional heavy shower and abundant sunshine. The wildflower buds swaying in a light breeze are about to burst forth in all their splendor and dash of colour. But a wintry chill continues to linger in many hearts. The fog refuses to lift, since for many, their greatest source of security and hope — a sense of belonging — has been replaced by their worst fear — a sense of abject rejection mixed with fear and uncertainty. Sunayana Dumla’s question gnaws at our minds and tugs at our heartstrings. Do we belong? It is one of those timeless questions that immigrants and refugees everywhere have asked themselves, but unexpectedly strong and loud reverberations of this question are now being felt — of all places — in this nation of immigrants.

The writer has a PhD in public policy analysis from the Pardee RAND Graduate School and is now a Senior Researcher with Mathematica Policy Research in Princeton, New Jersey.