When news of the ground-zero mosque controversy broke, I was deceived; the phrasing of the story led me to believe there were plans to build a mosque directly on top of the ashes of the World Trade Center.
 

Needless to say, I was upset by this intelligence. Be it the new construction mosque or otherwise, it was unacceptable that New York City sell the land to the highest bidder, instead of leaving it as a space for reflection and remembrance.
 

As I was soon to discover, however, this was not at all the case. To my utter fascination, the mosque that was rapidly gathering so much national attention was not intended to be erected upon the sacred remains of the World Trade Center. Rather, it is to be constructed upon the hallowed remains of a Burlington Coat Factory, just a brisk walk away. Hold onto your outerwear and let the circus begin.
 

Granted, the intentions of the terrorists who perpetrated the September 11 attacks were rooted in radical Islamic ideology. However, the logic connecting the actions of those criminals with the Islamic community center to be built on the remains of a retail store is absurd at best.
 

Would it be in the spirit of justice to prevent someone from owning a home because his third cousin, twice removed, defaulted on her mortgage? Are the sins of our compatriots and religious brethren heavy enough to outweigh our rights, as stated in the Constitution and its amendments?
 

Some might argue that I am oversimplifying the situation. But for me, at the end of the day, this is an issue of religious freedom and human rights that transcends geography.
 

Yes, the mosque would be close to ground zero, but if not here, then where? Because for some folks, even Murfreesboro, Tennessee, at an 865 mile distance from Ground Zero, still does not appear to be far enough. It seems that some will remain unsatisfied with anything less than eradication.
 

Although many of those who condemn the construction of this religious center do so by insisting it is too much, too soon, I believe that most people act out of fear. Fear of not knowing much at all about religions or cultures more than a half day’s drive from their front door. Fear of a far-away religion whose roots in Abraham make the link between “us” and “them” a little too close for comfort.
 

I am afraid this problem has no blanket solution. Perhaps the only way to defend the religious freedom upon which our country was founded is to put a face to our fears and humanize our supposed enemies. We might just discover that that which we thought we feared was just a group of people looking for a place to pray.

Rebecca Quinn is a senior art history, Spanish and French triple major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].