I am feeling nothing less than rage, alienation and despair at the moment. Muslims have been on trial for 17 years now. Seventeen years in the dock, in community detention, on parole, out on bail. Seventeen years of punishment and accountability, of collective culpability that turns inwards into confusion, anger, helplessness, shame. Seventeen years ago I was a university student in Melbourne when I was pronounced guilty for the crimes that took place in another country. Seventeen years on and my children now inherit my sentence.

Prime Minister Scott Morrison visits Pellegrini's cafe in the wake of the Bourke Street attacks. Credit:The Age

I am expected to "combat radicalism", take "special responsibility’" for national security, predict random acts of violence by random people whose only connection to me is that they identify as Muslim. On any given day, I have a long to-do list. According to the Prime Minister of this country, on Friday it looked like this: drop kids to school, write book chapter, edit film script, defrost chicken for dinner, help my grandmother with grocery shopping, combat terrorism.

Enough is enough.

From the beginning we have been told we, Australian Muslims, must "take the lead", "assume primary responsibility", ensure "social cohesion". We must avoid others stigmatising us by proving we are not terrorist, not radical, not threat. We are permitted to speak, but only as a disclaimer. We must condemn terrorism. Denounce it, loudly and clearly. You have a voice, they tell us. But there are strict rules on what we can say.