It's difficult not to draw a comparison between the responses to the two Bourke Street attacks. Despite the disparity in the number of victims, there are notable similarities: both involved the loss of innocent lives of individuals unknown to their attackers; both perpetrators had a history of mental illness; and, most obviously, both attacks occurred in the same street.

One thing that wasn't the same, however, was how these atrocities were perceived. The first attack was carried out by James Gargasoulas, a Christian who prior to his crime advocated religiously inspired violence in a number of Facebook posts. This act of violence was widely recognised as the conduct of a man suffering from mental illness. While his guilt was never in question, any suggestion that his was an act of "terrorism" was quickly dismissed as soon as it became clear that the witness who claimed to have heard the words "Allah Akbar" was mistaken. By contrast, the second attacker, Hassan Khalif Shire Ali, was immediately labelled a "terrorist" once his religious affiliation was confirmed.

The disparity between these two responses goes deeper than just double standards. When it comes to "terrorism" it is not only the individual who is held to account, and it is not only the victims who feel the effect of these acts of violence ― the entire Muslim community is implicated, and the entire Muslim community pays the price.

Less than a day after the most recent Bourke Street attack, the finger pointing had already begun. Prime Minister Scott Morison got the ball rolling:

We would be kidding ourselves if we did not call out the fact that the greatest threat of religious extremism … is the radical and dangerous ideology of extremist Islam … If you're an Imam or a leader in one of those communities ... you can't look the other way.

Minister for Home Affairs Peter Dutton took this even further:

The idea that [Islamic] community leaders would have information but withhold it from the police or intelligence agencies is unacceptable.

The inference of both remarks, of course, is that Muslim leaders are hiding something and that they are complicit in this terrible crime. Not only does this inference have no substance, but it further fuels the "us" versus "them" dichotomy that is so corrosive on life as a nation. This does nothing but inflame existing tensions and has the potential to lead to further violence.

But then, when questions about Shire Ali's mental state were posed to the prime minister, he swiftly rejected them as the "same old, tired excuse." Ironically, the prime minister said this on the same day that James Gargasoulas testified "that we need to reinstate God’s royal law of liberty" ― but Scott Morrison never insisted that Gargasoulas was a terrorist, nor did he offer any comment as to whether it was inappropriate to focus on Gargasoulas's mental state. There were no calls for the Christian community to work with authorities, no insinuations of blame and no suggestions that Christian leaders are looking the other way.

As the week progressed, so too did the pressure on the Muslim community. The jibes continued from the prime minister:

I'm a member of a religious community, and my pastor knows what's going on in our church community. He would know if there was someone … teaching things that were not in accordance with what our faith believed. They'd be pointing that out and they'd be dealing with it.

Not to denigrate Morrison's pastor, who I am sure is a very decent man, but given what has come to light through the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, it's hard not to see certain problems in holding up clergy as prime examples of openness and transparency.

But this demand on Muslim leaders is even more perplexing given that authorities have confirmed that Shire Ali was known to them and had his passport confiscated. Naturally, it begs the question: if law enforcement, with their wealth of experience and training, can't prevent such an incident from occurring, what more could they possibly expect Muslim leaders to do? How could drawing attention to somebody who was already on the radar possibly make a difference?

Equally baffling are the statements that Shire Ali was "inspired" by Islamic State. Peter Dutton has admitted there was no evidence linking him to Islamic State, and yet the government persists with this narrative. So, on the one hand, there is clear evidence that Shire Ali had a deteriorating mental state, and, on the other, there is no evidence of a connection with Islamic State ― so which consideration does the government choose to focus on? And, perhaps more to the point, why?

Whatever the reason, over the course of the last week a strong association has been made in the public's mind between Muslims and terrorism. Press conferences are littered with well-worn words like "radicalised," "extremist," "Islamist" and "terrorist." Unfortunately, the average citizen, under the influence of this rhetoric, is not going to direct their anger at Shire Ali and their fear will not be reserved for Muslim leaders. Instead, it is Muslims that bear the brunt of public fear and suspicion. Furthermore, when public figures pledge to ban certain people from the CBD this only reinforces the belief that Muslims are objects of fear.

Whenever this fear surfaces in the community, it is those who are identifiably Muslim that invariably bear the brunt. It is the women that suffer: making Muslim women question whether they really need to leave the house in order to get groceries for fear of being verbally or even sometimes physically attacked in the streets. When people view Muslims with suspicion, it is teenaged girls that suffer, as they are excluded from buses or have their hijab ripped off on public transport. And when people equate Muslims with terrorists, it is the children who suffer, compelled to ask their parents, "Why do people hate us so much?"

Our political leaders have a responsibility to choose their words judiciously. To do otherwise leads to harmful ramifications and places social cohesion at risk. The Muslim community is asking for no special treatment; we are not expecting officials or authorities to "look the other way," as the prime minister has suggested. All that we ask is when crimes are committed ― whether it be by a Christian, Muslim, atheist, or a person of any belief system ― that we are all treated equally. All we ask is that an entire religion and its adherents are not denigrated and vilified for the actions of one mentally unstable man.

Nancy Umm Rashid is a secondary school teacher with a background in psychology, social work and employment. She is an active member of the Muslim community, particularly in relation to education and parenting.