1 

 

Group Identity, Empathy and Shared Suffering: Understanding the 
“community” impacts of anti-LGBT and Islamophobic hate crimes  

 

Mark A. Walters 

University of Sussex, United Kingdom  

Jennifer Paterson  

University of Sussex, United Kingdom 

Liz McDonnell 

University of Sussex, United Kingdom  

Rupert Brown 

University of Sussex, United Kingdom 

 

Abstract 
 

This article examines the indirect impacts of hate crimes on LGBT and Muslim 

communities in the United Kingdom. Based on 34 qualitative interviews, we 

explore both the perceived meaning of "community" in the context of targeted 

victimization, and the emotional and behavioural effects that anti-LGBT and 

Islamophobic hate crimes have on other members of the victim's group. Building 

on previous quantitative data undertaken as part of a larger programme of 

research, this study helps to explain how and why hate crimes have significant 

indirect consequences on two distinct but commonly targeted communities. The 

focus on LGBT and Muslim communities allowed us to draw out similarities and 

commonalities across different groups, further enhancing understanding of the 

impacts of hate crime. In particular, the article highlights how for many LGBT and 

Muslim people feelings of anger and anxiety about hate crimes were linked to 

enhanced levels of empathy towards those that they share a group identity with. 

These empathic bonds often gave rise to a sense of "shared suffering", with 



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participants frequently feeling connected to group members worldwide through 

their common experiences of hate and prejudice. Although group identity was 

important to many participants' sense of belonging to LGBT or Muslim 

communities, it was clear that the most profound impacts of hate crime were 

experienced when incidents occurred within someone's local area. This 

highlighted the importance of location as a key variable in understanding both the 

meaning of "community" and the indirect impacts of hate crime.  

 

Keywords 
 

Hate crime; community; group identity; intergroup emotions; empathy 

 

Introduction 

 

There have been significant increases in the number of recorded hate crimes in 

both Europe and the United States over the past two years (Southern Poverty Law 

Centre, 2016; Home Office, 2018). The huge spikes in recorded incidents have 

attracted extensive media and social media coverage. Technological 

advancements in the ways in which “news” is now delivered mean that awareness 

of hate crimes can spread well beyond the local communities where they occur. 

Such is the reach of some new media platforms that what occurs in one community 

can be seen, heard and felt in communities on every corner of the globe within 

minutes. The devastating attack in Orlando is a case in point. The news of the 

targeted killing of 49 people and injuring of 50 others at an LGBT venue in Florida 

spread internationally within hours. An outpouring of emotion and, in turn, 

community activism was witnessed as LGBT and non-LGBT allies converged to 

make a stand against what some labelled an act of “homophobic terrorism” 

(Schweppe and Walters, 2016). Within just 24 hours, vigils were being held 

globally involving thousands of people demonstrating in the streets of London, 

Sydney, Hong Kong, Bangkok, and many cities beyond (Taylor, 2016).  

The terrorizing effects of hate crime are often used by policy makers and 

legislators to justify the treatment of hate-motivated offences as a distinct type of 



 3 

offending that requires a specific legislative response. Yet little is known, 

empirically at least, about the exact nature and extent to which hate crimes 

indirectly impact targeted communities. Perry and Alvi (2012: 70) point out that: 

“If we are to continue to insist that one of the primary reasons for 

differentiating bias-motivated crime from its non-bias-motivated counterpart 

is the effect on the broader community, we need to firmly establish this 

dynamic.” 

It is on this dynamic that this article focuses. Connecting previously analysed 

quantitative data (Paterson, Brown, & Walters, 2018a; 2018b; Paterson, Walters, 

Brown, & Fearn, 2018; Walters, Paterson, Brown, & McDonnell, 2017) with 34 in-

depth qualitative interviews, we examine how indirect experiences of hate crimes 

can impact upon two commonly targeted groups: LGBT people and Muslim people. 

Our combined analyses reveal a more nuanced understanding of how hate 

incidents affect entire identity groups, while additionally building upon 

contemporary conceptions as to the ways that “community” is defined and 

experienced by LGBT and Muslim people in the context of targeted violence.  

  

The ripple effect of hate incidents  

 

There is now substantial evidence on the direct impacts of hate crime that clearly 

illustrates the damaging consequences of such incidents (e.g. Benier, 2017; Herek 

et al., 1999; Iganski and Lagou, 2015; McDevitt et al., 2001). For example, Herek 

and colleagues (1999) found that lesbian and gay victims of homophobic hate 

crime were more likely to report greater levels of anger, depression, post-traumatic 

stress, and anxiety compared to victims of non-hate crimes. Lesbian and gay 

victims of hate crimes were also more likely to be fearful of future incidents of crime 

while additionally experiencing “greater perceived vulnerability”, compared with 

victims of non-hate motivated offences (Herek et al., 1999: 6). Numerous other 

studies that have examined the impacts of different types of hate crime have, 

collectively, provided cogent evidence that prejudice-based offending is more 

likely to have profound emotional and behavioural effects on those who are 

victimized (Home Office, 2018). 



 4 

 

But do the same emotional and behavioural reactions to hate crime extend beyond 

the direct victim to those who share the same or similar characteristics? A number 

of scholars have asserted that hate crimes are likely to have the effect of terrorizing 

other people who share the same or similar identity characteristics to that of the 

victim (Iganski, 2001; Weinstein, 1992). These in terrorem (intimidation) effects 

mean that a single incident of hate is likely to have emotional and behavioural 

impacts that quickly reach across entire communities (Noelle, 2002; Perry and Alvi, 

2012). Although by no means its intention, the media’s reporting of hate violence 

is also likely to help to promote a message of danger to minority communities. 

Such a message, it has been asserted, is likely to create climates of fear amongst 

minority groups who worry that they too will be attacked (Herek and Berrill, 1992: 

3; Iganski, 2001, pp. 630–31; Herek et al., 1999). If this is true, it means that a 

single act of hate-motivated violence may result in entire communities of people 

experiencing a heightened sense of vulnerability, anxiety and fear about future 

targeted victimization (Perry and Alvi, 2012).  

 

There is some limited qualitative (and quantitative) research that supports these 

assertions. For instance, Noelle (2002) conducted a small study involving 

questionnaires and semi-structured interviews with LGB participants in the wake 

of the homophobic murder of Matthew Shepard in the USA in 1998. Using 

assumptive world theory, her findings suggested that high profile homophobic 

violence can have significant impacts on other gay, lesbian and bisexual people’s 

assumptions that “their” world is a safe and/or benevolent place. She reported that 

the respondents reported feeling personally threatened as a consequence of 

sharing the victim’s social identity. Other reactions included avoidance (less 

willingness to be open about their sexual orientation) and/or proaction (a desire to 

confront homophobia in society).  

Other qualitative studies have also begun to explore the likely emotional and 

behavioural indirect impacts of hate crime. For instance, Bell and Perry’s (2015) 

small focus group study into the community impacts of anti-LGB hate crimes in 

Canada found that some members of LGB communities engaged in “victim-

blaming”, such as where they considered gay male victims to have provoked their 



 5 

attack by not curbing their effeminate behaviours. The authors argue that such 

attitudes were an attempt at self-preservation, in order to manage their own 

feelings of fear about homophobic violence (see also Perry and Alvi, 2012). 

Participants also spoke of feeling vulnerable, which led to them making changes 

to the way they dressed and expressed themselves.  

In a previous study, Perry and Alvi (2012) found that feelings of anger about others’ 

targeted victimization could also have a mobilizing effect on community members, 

including the desire to educate others about identity “difference”. However, other 

researchers have pointed out that feelings of anger may give rise to further acts of 

hate-motivated violence as individuals who feel threatened by outgroup members 

seek to retaliate against them (McDevitt et al., 2002). More recently, Paterson et 

al. (2018a) found that feelings of shame caused by indirect experiences of hate 

crime may give rise to a desire to retaliate amongst some community members.  

 

The role of “community”  

 

Understanding the likely community impacts of indirect hate crimes involves a 

nuanced exploration of the concept of “community” itself. Noelle (2002: 45) states 

that it is the shared group membership of targeted individuals that leads to a 

“vicarious traumatization” effect. But why does forming a shared identity mean that 

indirect experiences of hate crimes have particular impacts on group members? 

The answer to this question lies in an understanding of both identity, as forming 

part of an individual’s sense of self, and its symbiosis with individuals’ perceived 

position within a “community” of people.  

“Community” is an elusive concept which is contested amongst social scientists. It 

can have differing meanings, depending on context or the purpose for which it is 

used (Bauman, 2001). Normative assumptions about community have given rise 

to a common vernacular where it is often used as a descriptor for the purpose of 

certain policies and practices. Within law and order discourse, “community” has 

often been used imprecisely to refer to local neighbourhoods who are assumed to 

hold a homogenous collective purpose and who typically share a single physical 

location (Crawford, 2002). Broad statements referring to “community safety” or 



 6 

“community wellbeing” are often used by government officials without proper 

explication as to whose safety and wellbeing is being targeted (Crawford, 2002). 

A number of sociologists have attempted to identify a more coherent meaning of 

community. For instance, Studdert asserts that communities can only be formed 

through action or speech, and are “impossible to perform without the presence of 

other people” (Studdert, 2006: 2). Conceptualized in these terms, Studdert argues 

that community is better understood as a verb rather than a noun, as it is the doing 

of community that gives it its true meaning. This means that community is 

contingent on action, or more precisely, on social interaction (sociality). Sociality 

is established where people share social spaces that result in routine inter-

personal interactions that make up individuals’ general living patterns. By 

interacting in physical spaces, a common purpose or collective interest develops, 

resulting in the formation of a social bond (and potentially social capital, i.e. the 

capacity to draw on the support of other individuals within a community) amongst 

individuals. Within these physical spaces of sociality a “culture” is also likely to 

develop, serving to establish (and re-establish) the ways that people live. The 

social mores and values attached to a community give rise to certain norms and 

social rituals, which can shape the way that members of a community interact and 

socialize in any given location. 

For other scholars, however, individuals do not necessarily need to share common 

space or even a common interest to form a community, but instead simply share 

an “essence” through which members form a bond with one another (Lash, 1994). 

Kennedy and Roudometof (2004: 6) explain that communities are “units of 

belonging whose members perceive that they share moral, aesthetic/expressive 

or cognitive meanings, thereby gaining a sense of personal as well as group 

identity.” Accordingly, while “communities” will frequently be defined by space and 

location, they are not necessarily bound by territory, and may instead simply be 

constructed via the sharing of an identity that gives individuals a collective 

meaning, and potentially shared cultural norms. 

This latter conception is not dissimilar from the social psychological conception of 

social identity articulated by Tajfel and Turner (1986) in their social identity theory 

(SIT). SIT proposes that individuals form attachments and a sense of belonging to 



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groups with whom they share similar identity-defining characteristics. Group-

based identities can comprise a variety of different attributes, including (amongst 

others) political beliefs, religious beliefs, social class, ethnicity, nationality, or 

sexual orientation. When people perceive themselves as being part of a group, 

they acquire that “ingroup” identity, thereby becoming members of a specific 

community (e.g. the “gay community” or the “Muslim community”). Any given social 

identity may be chronically salient for a person, or may become personally relevant 

only in certain intergroup contexts – for example, where an incident or some public 

discourse highlights the significance of a particular group membership. 

The psychological process by which individuals develop a sense of belonging with 

a group has been defined as self-categorization (Turner et al., 1987). Self-

categorization leads individuals to perceive themselves as less unique and more 

“typical” of someone who shares characteristics with other members of the given 

group. These group characteristics are typically expressed via the articulation of 

certain attitudes, beliefs and behaviours that are directly associated with that group 

membership. Connected to self-categorization is intergroup emotions theory (IET), 

which posits that intergroup behaviour is driven by emotions that are predicated 

on social categorization of self as belonging to an ingroup (and not to an outgroup) 

(Mackie and Smith, 2015; Smith, 1993, 1999). Ingroup members, this theory 

argues, evaluate events in their social environment in terms of their outcomes for 

the group as a whole (known as intergroup appraisal). Hence, an attack against 

another ingroup member is likely to be experienced by other group members as 

an attack against all members (see e.g. Gordijn et al., 2001; Mackie et al., 2000). 

IET theorists propose that where groups feel threatened by conduct that 

discriminates against them, this will result in emotional reactions amongst group 

members (predominantly anger and anxiety), which are then thought to instigate 

certain behaviours (e.g. proaction and avoidance respectively). 

It is through understanding minority communities as collective “ingroups” who are 

likely to be connected emotionally, that we can begin to comprehend more fully 

the indirect impacts of hate-motivated crimes. Below, we explore data collated as 

part of the Sussex Hate Crime Project (SHCP) using quantitative surveys, 

experiments and qualitative interviews to examine the emotional and behavioural 



 8 

impacts that indirect experiences of hate crime have on two commonly targeted 

identity groups in the UK: LGBT communities and Muslim communities.  

 

Findings from the Sussex Hate Crime Project  

 

The question of whether hate crimes have indirect impacts on other group 

members formed the focus of a five-year research project (Paterson, Walters, 

Brown & Fearn, 2018). Quantitative data reported elsewhere, based on cross-

sectional and longitudinal surveys and experiments with over 3,000 LGBT and 

Muslim people, have provided evidence that simply knowing someone in the local 

community who had been a victim of a hate crime, had significant impacts on group 

members’ emotions (especially anger and anxiety) (Paterson et al., 2018a; 2018b). 

In turn, those emotions were linked to proactive behavioural intentions (e.g. joining 

rights-based groups, community-focused charities, and being more active on 

social media) and avoidance (e.g. avoiding certain locations and changing one’s 

appearance) (Paterson et al., 2018a). Moreover, longitudinal and experimental 

studies also found that media exposure to hate crimes had lasting demobilizing 

impacts on actual behaviours (Paterson et al., 2018b). The researchers found that 

a key mediating factor explaining these enhanced impacts of indirect hate crimes 

was empathy – i.e. the willingness or capacity to feel the emotions of others 

(Batson et al., 1997). Individuals from within LGBT and Muslim groups were more 

empathic towards other ingroup members’ experiences of hate crime and it was 

this capacity to vicariously feel “other’s pain” that resulted in heightened emotional 

responses for hate crime victims compared to non-hate crime victims.  

While these quantitative findings support the claim that hate crimes have 

significant “community” impacts, and that these are linked to both identity and 

empathy, it remains unclear as to the ways in which group members identify with 

their ingroup to form identity-based “communities”, and why some members feel 

stronger levels of membership to, and empathy with, these groups than others. 

These questions are addressed in the analysis presented below. 

 



 9 

Methodology 

 

The SHCP focused exclusively on the indirect effects of anti-LGBT and anti-

Muslim hate crime. Both groups remain frequent targets of hate, with data from the 

Crime Survey for England and Wales suggesting that each group has experienced 

a significant increase in hate crimes in recent years (Home Office, 2018). The 

decision to research these two groups was also based on the fact that it enabled 

the researchers to explore whether differences in relation to identity traits and how 

the two communities engage in community-based practices affects the ways in 

which hate crimes impact group members.  

This qualitative study is based on a sample of 34 in-depth interviews (16 

participants who identified as LGBT and 18 who identified as Muslims). 

Interviewees were recruited with the help of our partner LGBT and Muslim 

organizations and via “snowballing”, which is used to identify new interviewees via 

those already interviewed (Bryman, 2012: 202–203). Participants’ ages ranged 

from 18–53 (LGBT) and 18–59 (Muslim). Gender was self-assigned by participants 

and included: 10 Male, three Female, one Male to Female Trans, one queer, and 

one gender queer woman (LGBT); and 12 Male and six Female (Muslim). The 

sexual orientations of participants were also self-categorized and included: nine 

gay, five bisexual, one lesbian and one queer (LGBT); and 16 heterosexual and 

two unassigned (Muslim). The ethnic backgrounds of participants were listed as: 

10 White, two unassigned, one European, one White Other, one Black African, 

and one mixed race (LGBT); and four Bangladeshi, four mixed race, two Arab, two 

Muslim, two unassigned, one British Bangladeshi, one British Pakistani, one Indian 

and one Afghani (Muslim).  

Within the interview guides there were four main areas of enquiry: community 

identification and identity; experiences of direct and indirect hate crime (and 

consequent emotions and actions); experiences and perceptions of the current 

criminal justice system responses to hate crime; and the potential of restorative 

justice in hate crime cases. This article focuses on community identification and 

indirect experiences of hate crime, including exploring how indirect hate crimes 

(against ingroup members and outgroups) are processed by victims, and 



 10 

examining the role that group identity plays in emotional and behavioural 

responses to such incidents.  

Interviews were coded using NVivo and a primarily deductive thematic analysis 

was employed (Braun and Clarke, 2006). This allowed us to categorize findings 

based on nodes (themes) and to create sub-themes which emerged across the 

data as they related to our key theoretical perspectives (SIT and IET) (Braun and 

Clarke, 2006). This approach also enabled us to highlight both the commonalities 

and differences that existed between the two cohorts of interviewees (LGBT and 

Muslim). The study received ethical approval from the Cross-Schools Research 

Ethics Committee at the University of Sussex. All names referred to in this article 

have been changed to protect the anonymity of participants.  

 

Understanding “community” as part of the community impacts of hate crime: the 

importance of location  

 

Interviewees were asked a number of questions regarding their feelings of 

belonging to either LGBT communities or Muslim communities. We asked each 

participant whether they felt connected in any way to these communities at a local, 

national and/or global level. We then asked participants about how strongly they 

felt their identity as LGBT or Muslim meant to them and how their identity impacted 

on the way they viewed the world.  

Within the LGBT group, twelve out of 16 interviewees stated that they either 

currently felt, or had previously felt, part of the LGBT community in their local area. 

Membership of the community was predominantly linked to knowing other LGBT 

people, living in a defined LGBT area, and/or participating in local LGBT events. 

Within the Muslim group, a similar proportion of participants (15/18) felt that they 

were part of the local Muslim community, with two stating that they were not active 

members. For one interviewee, this was because he was Shia and the local 

mosque was Sunni, and one stated he was not a “proper” member which was 

linked to his (lack of) devoutness. 



 11 

A minority of LGBT participants noted that they did not feel connected to any local 

LGBT community, nor did they particularly seek this out. Some of these individuals 

resisted the idea that they should be part of any identity-based community at all. 

One participant spoke in terms of “I” being “just me”, rather than being 

characterized as a gay or lesbian (for example) person. Another participant 

commented: 

No, I just generally see myself as an individual and as part of everybody. I 

don’t like to categorize in a group, ‘cause I believe that you’d open 

yourselves up to other people’s opinions and that. I just try and be myself 

as in generally just fit in and, yeah, just to get on with everyone. I don’t see 

it as this ... in a group or a community. (Karen/LGBT) 

Beyond being part of a local community, seven LGBT and seven Muslim 

participants stated that they felt some sense of belonging to a UK-wide LGBT or 

Muslim community. For LGBT participants, this was often characterized through 

their activities as engaging with people via campaigning, or by accessing UK-wide 

information via news outlets (e.g. Pink News). Others also participated in large 

scale events such as city Pride marches. For Muslim participants, rather than 

focusing on events and activities, the majority of individuals evoked a religious 

doctrine to support their view of national identity, such as the idea of “brotherhood” 

and “one nation” – the idea that all Muslims are the brothers of other Muslims. For 

Muslims then, the sense of belonging was directly linked to a religious idea that 

connected individuals together by belief and community support for one another. 

As the main belief of Islam of the actual religion Islam is brotherhood, that’s 

the way … I feel a part. So it’s about brotherhood, you know? It’s about 

supporting each other in times of need, donating. So only that way, yeah. 

(Mohammed/Muslim) 

Only two Muslim participants felt that they were not part of a UK-wide Muslim 

community. In one case the interviewee stated they were just a “normal Muslim”, 

while for the other they again linked this partly to being Shia as opposed to a Sunni 

Muslim. 



 12 

A slightly smaller, but still significant, proportion of LGBT participants (six) saw 

themselves as belonging to a global LGBT community. This global community was 

based on sharing a common identity that transcended other spatial, cultural, ethnic 

or national identities. One interviewee described this as follows: 

It’s an identity that will sort of define me and place me in certain social 

situations wherever I go, and it will give me something in common with other 

people in other places, so ... in a way, yeah. (Abi/LGBT) 

An even higher proportion of Muslim participants (14/18) stated that they felt part 

of a global Muslim community. As with national community, this perception was 

frequently linked to the notion of brotherhood:  

As a Muslim, all Muslims are brothers and we are all alike, we consider 

ourselves to be one big family. So that’s the teaching of the Prophet and 

that’s the Muslim belief, so if one Muslim’s hurt everyone else is hurt. So 

we are pretty much all the same. So that’s how I see it. But also I know 

people from other communities, other countries. And most of the people in 

my community are from all over the ... world literally. There is not one single 

country they don’t come from. (Abdul/Muslim) 

This expression of shared global identity was often mediated, for both groups, 

through the empathic connections that LGBT and Muslim people felt towards other 

group members (concurring with our quantitative findings, Paterson et al., 2018a). 

This was articulated by one LGBT participant who remarked: 

I mean … you grow up as gay, struggling with your … you know the same 

expectations of you perhaps won’t be fulfilled, or you know that you are 

[different] in some ways from other people that you’re at school with … So 

you kind of know that anyone that goes through that anywhere in the world 

will have some sort of struggle in terms of their day-to-day existence or just 

their life; so you can kind of ... you have some sort of empathy with people 

who are in more difficult situations than you, which are those ones that you 

read about in the papers. (Martin/LGBT) 

Such comments suggested that a sense of belonging to a “community” could be 

fostered where individuals feel a sense of shared suffering. The research indicated 



 13 

that increased empathy towards other group members is likely to heighten the 

emotional responses to group-based attacks, which in turn, strengthens a person’s 

connection to the group.  

 

Community-based practices and engagement as forming part of “community” 
 

The degree to which individuals felt part of identity-based communities was often 

influenced by the extent to which they engaged in community-based practices. 

Thirteen different practices were identified by LGBT participants as ways people 

felt that they were “part of” an LGBT community (whether local, national or global). 

Most commonly (n=12), participants spoke of their involvement in charities or 

charity events such as Pride, Terrence Higgins Trust, Stonewall, or LGBT 

switchboards. Half of the LGBT participants also spoke of socializing with other 

LGBT friends as a way of expressing their group identity, while seven reported 

going to gay pubs/clubs, and six people mentioned their connection to the LGBT 

community through work.  

As with LGBT participants, six Muslim participants mentioned charity involvement 

that included Islam awareness activities, setting up mosques, and relief aid as 

being central to their community membership. However, a significant difference 

emerged between the LGBT and Muslim samples in relation to practice-based 

engagement. For most Muslims, their local mosque was a single site where 

relationships, friendships, as well as prayer as a routine activity, served to confirm 

their Muslim identities. Sixteen out of 18 Muslim participants stated that going to 

mosque was the main way in which they engaged with or felt part of the Muslim 

community. 

 

Strength of group identity as forming part of community membership  
 

In order to explore further the relationship between an individual’s strength of 

identification as LGBT or Muslim and their experiences of hate crime, we asked 

participants how strongly they felt attached to their identity as LGBT or Muslim. 



 14 

There was a range of responses amongst LGBT participants in relation to the 

individual importance of their sexual orientation. Only three people stated that it 

was “very important” to them; for one interviewee below this was linked to the 

process of “coming out” and self-acceptance: 

Yeah, it’s very important to me. It’s interesting because my partner … it’s 

not very important to him; it’s just something you do. Whereas I have a 

really, really difficult time coming out and coming to grips with myself ... So 

now that I have properly … I’m really quite proud of the fact that I am. And 

it is quite a big part of who I am, and I will tell people. And I’m quite a 

“straight-acting” gay, if that makes sense, so it’s ... a lot of people don’t 

realize, so I feel the need to tell them [laughs] ... Really odd sometimes, but, 

yeah, I am quite proud of it, and it is a lot of who I am, ‘cause … it really 

formed who I am today, so it’s very important for me. (Dan/LGBT) 

For a larger group of people (six), it was not especially important in terms of how 

they saw themselves in the world, while five LGB interviewees positioned 

themselves somewhere in between these two positions, recognising the 

significance of their sexual orientation but saying that their identity was made up 

of other things as well. 

The idea that an LGBT identity was mobilized as a result of interactions with others 

or based on social categories was mentioned by six participants and this is 

important in terms of differences with the Muslim sample and in relation to 

experiencing hate crime, which could clearly activate a negative self-awareness. 

I think in a political way more than a personal way. I feel like, because I am 

queer, it’s important to engage politically with that and sort of demand, 

where it’s appropriate or where it’s possible, that people are capable of 

dealing with that issue. So I find it more important … if I’m, like, in the 

situation where there is discrimination going on, or … broadening the 

options for people in my identity group, I suppose. (Abi/LGBT) 

Whereas participants in the LGBT sample had varied and context specific views 

of the importance of their sexual orientation, Muslim participants told a different 

story about the importance of their Muslim identity. Seventeen of the 18 Muslim 



 15 

participants stated that their Muslim identity was a central part of how they saw 

themselves. Often interviewees mentioned the fact that they had been brought up 

this way and sometimes that they were proud of it. 

It’s very important. I believe that I am a strong Muslim. The first identity in 

fact I would say being a Muslim is my first identity I would say. And there is 

no way I would hide it. I would deny it never. I would go straight forward to 

anyone and I would say I’m a Muslim because that is what my religion 

taught me to be. The main identity is you are a Muslim, you are a person, 

you are a human. And as part of it, being Muslim is really important to me. 

(Alisha/Muslim) 

Not surprisingly this strong front-stage identity, often embedded from an early age 

and sanctioned through prayer and religious practices, meant that a Muslim 

identity shaped behaviour in a much more noticeable way than in the LGBT 

sample. Fourteen interviewees said that being a Muslim significantly shaped their 

behaviour in a proactive way. For example, Islamic doctrine guided their everyday 

life and their sense of morality, marking a clear difference with the LGBT 

participants who did not feel that their sexual orientation or gender identity offered 

them a single way to live their lives. 

[T]he Holy Book of Qur’an it’s got every answer to every steps in your life. 

So it kind of reflects everything you do in your life. So if you, say, step out 

of the door the book tells you what to do, how to behave with people, how 

to be yourself, how to find your inner self; the book tells everything. So I 

would say it’s really connected to your life. (Alisha/Muslim) 

Our data support the assertions central to IET that individuals form group 

attachments via sharing identity traits, which in turn help to shape their values and 

social norms. However, the data also revealed how some group identities are more 

homogenous than others, and that the influence that identity has on perceptions 

of “self” can differ depending on the centrality that the group identity has on its 

members’ “way of life”.  

 



 16 

Intersecting identities 

 

Clearly, for many individuals their group identity is either a central or significant 

part of who they are. However, it is important to acknowledge that some people 

form attachments to multiple groups (communities) with some of these identities 

intersecting. The impacts of intersectionality have been explored in the context of 

various types of targeted victimization, such as gender and Islam (Zempi, 2016), 

disability and gender (Balderston, 2013), ethnicity and trans identity (Grant et al., 

2011), and LGBT identity and social class (Meyer, 2010). Within this qualitative 

study, there was some evidence to suggest that holding multiple identities can 

exacerbate, or at least affect, individual responses to hate crime. Seven 

interviewees spoke about more than one identity affecting their perceptions of 

threat of targeted anti-LGBT or Islamophobic victimization. For example, Abi, who 

identified as queer, stated that they felt more vulnerable to rape than homophobia 

and therefore avoided places where their body was viewed by others as female, 

or they would act more “male” in those places to repel unwanted sexual attention. 

Similarly, for Kylie, their gender identity was much more salient than their sexual 

orientation as bisexual when considering targeted victimization: 

The sexuality side of it isn’t really that significant to me at all. However, the 

gender side of things is very, very important. You’ll probably find that most 

transgender people would say that; ‘cause gender’s one of the most 

fundamental things in your identity, frankly. The fact that I’m trans does 

throw some ... spanners in the works, but it’s definitely a very significant 

thing. (Kylie/LGBT) 

In the Muslim cohort of interviewees, four mentioned the intersecting categories of 

their perceived race or colour and being a Muslim, and how it was hard to unravel 

these identities in terms of why they believed Muslims are the targets of hate crime. 

“First of all you’re part of a religion which is probably one of the most hated 

religions of the Western world at the moment. And second of all, you fall 

within a minority even after you ... well you fall into another minority because 

of the colour of your skin. So it just makes it a double negative.” 

(Rahim/Muslim) 



 17 

Intersectionality is clearly significant to understanding the nature and dynamics of 

some forms of hate crime. Although many individuals feel part of a discrete 

“community” and that their identity as LGBT or Muslim is central to how they view 

the world, for others their experiences of prejudice may be marked by a complex 

relationship between different identity characteristics. Unpacking the effect that 

each of these identities has on individuals’ emotional responses to hate crime 

victimization is no easy task. We are left unclear as to whether threats to an 

individual’s gender identity or sexual orientation, or Muslim faith or ethnicity, is the 

key factor causing their heightened emotional response to hate crime. The degree 

to which a part of an individual’s identity shapes their experiences of hate is likely 

to depend on spatial and temporal variables; such as where bodies are more or 

less vulnerable to targeted victimization depending on the time, place, and the 

social activity that an individual is participating in. Thus, while it is likely that the 

intersectionality of identities creates a distinct and complex sense of “self” for some 

individuals, it is also likely that individual identity traits become more or less salient 

depending upon the situational context within which individuals experience 

prejudice and hate. 

 

The indirect impacts of hate crime victimization  

 

The vast majority of interviewees stated that they were aware of hate crimes 

directed at LGBT or Muslim people across all three levels under discussion: local, 

national and global. Ten LGBT participants mentioned local hate crimes that 

involved physical assault; eight interviewees had recalled indirect hate crimes that 

involved murder; four people talked about indirect verbal hate incidents; one 

interviewee mentioned rape; while another mentioned vandalism. Amongst the 

Muslim cohort, 11 had indirectly experienced verbal assault; eight assaults; seven 

criminal damage to mosques; while three people mentioned hearing about 

activities organized by far-right organizations (e.g. the “English Defence League”). 

Analysis of the interviews revealed that there was a clear distinction between the 

levels of threat resulting from indirect hate crime and the emotional responses to 

it. For many participants, the closer the indirect experience of hate crime was to 



 18 

their home (in a physical sense), the more their thinking shifted from “it could have 

been me” in an abstract sense to “it might be me next time”. This illustrated that 

an individual’s perception of a realistic threat is likely to be much stronger where 

the actual incident is close to them in proximity.  

The most commonly experienced emotions that participants stated they felt as a 

consequence of local and/or national indirect hate crimes were in the anger and 

anxiety categories. Eleven LGBT and 13 Muslim participants spoke predominantly 

about incidents making them feel angry or disgusted: 

Totally disgusted. Totally disgusted. Why should somebody be attacked for 

their sexuality? It’s just sickening. Totally disgusted. (Sally/LGBT) 

These anger-based emotional responses could be directly linked to a number of 

behavioural reactions for both LGBT and Muslim participants. Six LGBT and seven 

Muslim participants mentioned proactive behaviours as a result of feeling angry. 

Many of these individuals stated that they also experienced further feelings of 

defiance, which resulted in a strengthening of identity: 

I can’t say I feel scared, no, because I think to be defiant and I’ll stand by 

who I am and I’ll stand; and I’ll feel more so if we back off or feel frightened 

then you’re allowing people to win. The more we put ourselves out there 

and, you know, carry on with our everyday duties and be happy in yourself, 

then you shouldn’t give two hoots what anybody else around ... and they’ll 

end up being the ones who are the minority then – it won’t be a majority, it’ll 

be a minority and, you know, instead of hiding away we’ll just show them 

that we’re not afraid and we’re not scared to be who we are; we’re all entitled 

to have, live our lives the way we want to live ... (Karen/LGBT) 

This finding concurred with earlier research by Noelle (2002: 45) who found that 

some indirect experiences of hate were characterized by an angry “reactance 

effect” that inspired some to increase their levels of political activism. It is this type 

of reaction that can lead to proactive behaviours intended to “fight back” against 

prejudice and hatred, often by raising awareness about hate crimes and educating 

others about “difference” (see also, Paterson et al., under review; Perry and Alvi, 

2012: 69).  



 19 

Wanting to do something … So it might be something like posting stuff on 

Facebook about this ... Or part of a campaign for signatures … Or mention 

it in passing to different people of any particular group I’m talking to … Or I 

might bring up the situation in a group like at the nursery when we’re 

surrounded by, people that might not necessarily consider LGBT friendly 

just to raise the bar a little bit … (Nick/LGBT) 

When I talk, I talk a lot about Islam and I share my actual values with 

anyone, with taxi drivers, with anyone ... I’m proud of being Muslim the way 

that when I talk about it, but it doesn’t stop me to talk about this now … I 

talked about this event a lot with different people – Muslims and British – 

non-Muslim people. (Fatima/Muslim) 

Various other emotions were cited by participants in response to indirectly 

experiencing hate crime. These included anxiety, fear, shock, hurt, and worry 

(cited by 12 LGBT participants and eight Muslim participants as a response to 

indirect hate crime). These feelings were often linked to an increased wariness 

and vigilance as well as avoidant behavioural intentions, such as a reluctance to 

return to certain locations. 

Yeah, it does affect my behaviour … Because I become more fearful and 

would avoid going to certain places that I feel might be a risk to my safety. 

And especially within certain times, I would avoid walking within those areas 

… (Zainab/Muslim) 

These indirect impacts illustrate that hate crimes continue to threaten the liberty 

and mobility of LGBT and Muslim communities and can limit group members’ 

desire to interact with the rest of society. In order to avoid targeted victimization, 

some individuals learn to negotiate their safety by adopting strategies that help to 

minimize the risk of victimization (Perry and Alvi, 2012: 67). This can include 

actively changing physical appearance such as dressing differently, modifying 

gesticulations and mannerisms, and even tone and timbre of one’s voice (O’Neill, 

2017). Five interviewees discussed in detail how they attempted to hide their true 

identity from the world by changing their behaviour or appearance in order to avoid 

victimization (examples included acting more masculine or avoiding showing 

affection to partners in public spaces). One Muslim interviewee spoke of how he 



 20 

would often “play down” his religiosity by saying things such as “I’m not really 

practising” and “I used to drink alcohol” (both untrue) so that others would relate 

to him more. Others took more extreme measures in an attempt to fit in, with one 

interviewee (a “Black African gay female”1) explaining that she had even tried to 

cure herself of homosexuality. During the interview she revealed that she had gone 

to great lengths to search for “cures” on the internet so that she could return home 

to be with her friends and family who had previously threatened to kill her when 

they found out she was a lesbian.  

Collectively, these damaging emotional and behavioural impacts often gave rise 

to a more reflective feeling of sadness (noted by six interviewees). Such responses 

were sometimes phrased in philosophical tones, in which people contemplated 

more broadly the meaning of hate crime at a societal level: 

Well … disappointment and sad, because in the end of the day hate crime 

against anything or anyone is not good; no one wants to be hated, 

especially if it comes to religion, because everyone wants to practise his 

religion. There should be a freedom of practising your own religion, no 

matter what religion it is. And in the Qur’an there’s a saying “lakum dinukum 

waliyadin”, which means “You have your religion, I have mine”. As long as 

you respect my religion, I will respect your religion. But if you come to me 

and offend me and you’re really hurting my feelings, then I’m not going to 

let you hurt my feelings and my family and my religion. So of course I will 

prevent that, no matter what it will cost. (Hamza/Muslim) 

The comments highlighted in this section illustrate what can be termed as an 

emotionally intersectional experience of hate crime. The data showed how the 

processing of emotions can begin with expressing anger, and are often swiftly 

followed by feelings of vulnerability, which for some, then shifts to a more reflective 

emotion of sadness. For others, indirect hate incidents can give rise to a conscious 

and more political resistance to the oppressive effects that hatred has on minority 

communities. Indeed, while at the social level some LGBT and Muslim people may 

feel forced to moderate their identity, there is, for some, a strong belief that this is 

unfair, unjust and must be resisted. This finding demonstrated again how some 

                                                           
1 Participants self-described their identities.  



 21 

community members will be prepared to mobilize against perceived injustice, and 

this will mean that their group identity becomes an even more entrenched part of 

their perception of “self”.  

 

Global experiences and impacts of indirect hate crimes 
 

Beyond the local and national level, fifteen LGBT interviewees also cited indirect 

instances of global LGBT hate crime including laws and brutal incidents of violence 

in Russia, Uganda and South Africa. A further eleven Muslim participants 

mentioned incidents of global Islamophobic hate crime and this included a wide 

range of contexts such as countries banning Islamic dress, and the conflict in 

Palestine and Syria. In both cases much of the “hate” that was spoken about 

related to state-sponsored violence that resulted in the ill-treatment or persecution 

of LGBT and Muslim people. For LGBT people, this often referred to brutal 

violence, torture and even murder. For Muslim people, hate incidents referred to 

both religious-based killings, but also laws which limited Muslim people from 

expressing their religious and cultural norms. 

Participants’ experiences of global anti-LGBT and anti-Muslim hate crimes and 

discrimination brought up a range of feelings that were both similar and distinct 

from indirect experiences at the local or national level. Most common were feelings 

of anger (LGBT n=9; Muslim n=5) and sadness (LGBT n=5; Muslim n=3). A higher 

number of LGBT people (11) than Muslims (3) said they would avoid or have 

avoided certain countries as a result of hate crimes/discrimination against group 

members in that country. 

I won’t be booking any holidays to Uganda or Russia … I will always google 

the country and see how well their kind of ... what their views are to 

homosexuality, you know? I think it is something that would affect my 

behaviour because I wouldn’t choose to go to certain countries that are 

notoriously hostile. (Chris/LGBT) 

As with local and national experiences, ten LGBT participants and three Muslim 

participants intended to, or did, involve themselves in activism of various kinds that 



 22 

related to the treatment of group members abroad, including petitions, 

campaigning, and posting on social media.  

Overall, there were some similarities and differences in the emotional and 

behavioural reactions to hate crime at the global level. Again, it was empathy, as 

experienced through shared suffering, that resulted in both LGBT and Muslim 

people feeling strongly about others’ experiences of hate and which, in turn, 

resulted in both proactive and avoidant behaviours.  

It’s upsetting and it’s angering ‘cause it’s just the fact that you can sort of 

empathize with that person and to think that you might potentially go 

through that kind of pain just for something you’ve never even chosen, you 

know, you just are gay. That’s upsetting, but it also makes you really angry, 

especially when it’s getting the approval of the sort of government, you start 

to think, well how is this okay? (Isabelle/LGBT) 

Unlike local and national indirect experiences of hate crimes, participants tended 

to feel less anxious and worried about global crimes. This alluded again to the 

centrality of spatial sensitivity as being an important factor affecting emotional 

responses to indirect hate crime. Hence, although group identity alone is likely to 

provoke a strong reaction in ingroup members, the location and participation in 

physical community may well be significant to our understanding of the gravity of 

indirect impacts experienced by targeted groups. 

 

Reactions to hate crimes targeting another group 
 

In order to compare individuals’ reactions to hate crimes that are committed 

against outgroup members we asked all participants about their feelings about 

other types of hate-motivated crimes (for LGBT participants we asked about racial 

and anti-religious hate crimes, and for Muslim participants we asked about racial 

and sexual orientation based hate crimes). 

Overall, LGBT people were generally disturbed and upset by other types of hate 

crime and all thought they were “wrong”. Participants spoke of the links between 



 23 

themselves as a minority group and other minority groups that were also under 

threat: 

I suppose in some ways it does, because you think, if people are still 

attacking another minority, that there is still a lot of ignorance out there … 

So in that sense, yes it does make me worry … (Josh/LGBT) 

It is likely that this perception of threat is linked to a perceived similarity with other 

victims of different types of hate crime, and perhaps to a shared victim identity. 

Indeed, other researchers have found that more positive attitudes may be 

engendered across groups by highlighting similarities in their discriminatory 

experiences (Cortland et al., 2017). During the interviews there was also 

qualitative evidence to support a hypothesis that similarity in discriminatory 

experiences results in an amplified emotional reaction. Eight LGBT people and 

eight Muslim participants described how they felt anger as a result of race hate 

crimes, and five LGBT people also stated that they also felt anger about anti-

religious crimes: 

Well, you do imagine who is doing that, and you know that you’re living on 

the same street as them or in the same town as them, and you know that 

they’re capable of smashing up a mosque and killing a guy, and you wonder 

what else they’re capable of, I guess ... and what else they would react to 

– they’re volatile, angry people who hate difference ... So that sort of means 

that we’re all screwed if we’re different. (Abi/LGBT) 

Comments such as these highlighted how targeted violence of all types can give 

rise to concerns amongst other groups that they too could be vulnerable to the 

same types of prejudice. In other words, it may give rise to a sense of “will it be us 

next?” 

Although other group hate crimes elicited strong emotions such as anger, it was 

clear from both groups that the gravity of harm caused by these incidents was not 

as severe as incidents committed against their ingroup. Key to understanding the 

depth of the emotional reactions was again empathy. Although both LGBT and 

Muslim people were saddened by other forms of hate, it was clear that levels of 

empathy were likely to be greater for victims within participants’ own community. 



 24 

Perhaps in general terms you perhaps are more likely to empathize with 

someone in more of a similar position to you; so perhaps a racial attack or 

a racial hate crime may be against someone of a different gender to me or 

a different race to me … it might not maybe affect me as much … because 

… if it was someone who was LGBT and you think, well that could have 

been me, whereas obviously I wouldn’t think that I could have been like an 

Indian girl, but I might think I might have been that gay man who was 

attacked. (Martin/LGBT) 

 

Discussion: conceptualizing community and understanding the indirect harms of 

hate 

 

This study illustrates the complexity of both group identity, as forming part of a 

“community”, and the differing impacts that ingroup (community) membership can 

have on emotional and behavioural reactions to incidents of hate. The qualitative 

data showed that both LGBT and Muslim people are likely to feel an affinity with 

others who share their identity characteristics. However, the strength of this bond 

can differ depending on a number of interconnected variables. For instance, we 

found that Muslim identity was shared to a greater degree than LGBT identity 

because Muslim people experienced a stronger moral bond that was based on a 

shared cultural and religious belief system. This was linked to the concept of 

brotherhood (noted by several of our interviewees), or “ummah”, which means 

“community of believers” (Zempi, 2016: 121). The moral and religious values 

central to brotherhood were intrinsically linked to the practice of Islam, as 

expressed via frequent attendance at Mosque.  

Within the LGBT group local and national communities tended to be more fluid, 

with individuals feeling that their group identity played less of a role in shaping their 

sense of self and their “world views”. LGBT people also tended to share physical 

spaces less regularly, meaning that they did not “perform” their group identity in 

this way as often. 



 25 

Our findings highlight the complexity of the concept of “community”, as converging 

with both identity characteristics and social performativity (as it is connected to 

group identity). That is to say, while community can be constituted by action 

(including language, dress, and rituals), which is shaped by individuals’ sense of 

group identity, the relationship between action and identity may be more or less 

salient depending on a number of factors. Thus, while we might accurately refer to 

the existence of the “LGBT community” and “Muslim community”, the 

cohesiveness of these “units of belonging” (Kennedy and Roudometof, 2004) may 

well depend on such factors as the strength of the groups’ shared values and moral 

beliefs, as well as their local access to group communal institutions and social 

spaces where members will perform and re-perform parts of their collective identity 

(i.e. sociality: Studdert, 2006).  

Many LGBT and Muslim people also felt connected to global communities; though 

fewer individuals identified as feeling they belonged to such a collective. As with 

local and national communities, Muslim people tended to feel a stronger sense of 

global identity than LGBT people, which was again due to the concept of 

brotherhood. Brotherhood or ummah transcends local or national boundaries to 

form a single global community of Muslims who share certain beliefs and cultural 

norms. The strength of brotherhood or ummah can be such that it also transcends 

ethnic or linguistic differences. It is this umbrella group identity that connects 

Muslims everywhere. 

This finding is significant to both our understandings of “community” and the 

indirect impacts that hate crimes are likely to have globally. It demonstrated that 

simply sharing an “ingroup” characteristic was enough for individuals to feel that 

they were part of a collective group, despite individuals not personally knowing or 

socializing with other “members” of that group. Clearly then, “community” is a 

highly nuanced concept that can be partly established, and then shaped, by locality 

and sociality, but it can also be fostered simply through membership of a group 

identity. Important to understanding global communities in the context of hate 

crime is the emotionality of group members. Many LGBT and Muslim people felt 

connected to global communities, not just because they held a common identity, 

but because they shared experiences that this identity gave rise to. In relation to 

LGBT and Muslim people, this common experience was one of targeted 



 26 

victimization and discrimination, which gave rise to an experience of shared 

suffering amongst group members. This sense of shared suffering, in turn, gave 

rise to strong empathic connections amongst group members that provoked the 

main emotional response of anger.  

While it was true that most participants felt a sense of community, either via 

physical sociality or by sharing an identity trait, for some LGBT participants their 

identity was not seen as important to their perception of “self”. These individuals 

consciously resisted identifying themselves as being part of a group. Such 

resistance appeared to be an attempt to demonstrate that sexual orientation does 

not define individuality, and that human beings should not be reduced to a single 

identity trait. Paradoxically, these political beliefs may serve to both strengthen and 

weaken group identity. Those who displayed strong political beliefs about identity 

were the most proactive in defending the rights of LGBT people in a manner that 

asserted group identity. However, in doing this, some individuals advocated ideas 

that served to underplay the importance of “community” in favour of a more 

individualized view of humanity. We see here evidence of a philosophical tension 

within identity politics, between on the one hand advocating of group-based rights, 

while simultaneously promoting liberal values that foster a more individual-based 

human rights agenda.  

Other individuals held intersecting identities, which meant that there was not 

always a clear part of an individual’s group identity that resulted in their vicarious 

experiences of harm. Some individuals who experienced heightened emotional 

responses did so because of threats both to their gender and sexual orientation, 

or because of threats to their religious beliefs and racial background. Some noted 

that it was their gender identity, rather than their sexual orientation, that was the 

most salient feature that caused them fear of future targeted violence. It is not clear 

in such cases which “community” an indirect victim belongs to, or whether an 

intersecting identity (e.g. a “queer woman” or “Muslim woman”) is in and of itself 

an “ingroup” identity.  

Nevertheless, the data showed that most participants felt that they belonged to 

different levels of community, which could be directly linked to the nature and 

dynamics of the indirect effects of hate crimes. SIT and IET accurately predicted 



 27 

the types of emotional responses that group members were likely to experience 

as a result of indirectly experiencing hate crime at all levels of community. Most 

prominent were anger-based emotions, which resulted in certain behavioural 

responses (specifically, activities aimed at strengthening group identity, as well as 

raising awareness about the problem of hate crime). Hate crimes against both 

LGBT and Muslim people in a local or national context also gave rise to more 

anxiety-related emotions in both samples. Such emotions were frequently linked 

with avoidant behaviours, such as avoiding certain areas of town or changing 

physical appearance and mannerisms in order to avoid victimization.  

Forced behavioural changes such as these amount to both an individual and a 

social (cultural) harm. The expression of identity within groups is frequently 

performed as part of one’s sociality, which allows members to create identity-

based norms, values and “ways of being”. By denying themselves such 

performativity, LGBT and Muslim people are forcibly adhering to a heteronormative 

or a White Christian identity that denies them the capacity to truly express 

themselves. The denial of identity-based expression in public spaces means that 

many individuals feel forced to seek the sanctuary of “ingroup” community spaces. 

Benier (2017) notes that this risks damaging social cohesion, ultimately leading to 

the breakdown of inter-community relations. Those who retreat into safe spaces in 

order to avoid victimization may choose to dissociate themselves from dominant 

outgroups with the result that some communities become segregated and 

detached from other local and national communities (Benier, 2017). 

Two key factors emerged as affecting the gravity of emotional harms and 

behavioural responses to indirect hate crime. First, emotional and behavioural 

reactions were amplified where a realistic threat was closer in proximity. This 

meant that a hate crime against someone known to the victim in their local 

neighbourhood resulted in more pronounced negative emotions that could directly 

result in both proactive or avoidant behaviours. Such a finding illustrated that, while 

community may be formed through group identity alone (and amplified by a sense 

of shared suffering), location was a prominent factor that impacted upon the 

strength of group identity, which then mediated how greatly an individual would be 

affected by indirect experiences of hate crime. 



 28 

Second, the study showed that group members’ capacity for empathy was key to 

understanding the enhanced harms of indirect hate crime. The capacity to feel 

others’ pain means that hate crimes are more likely to give rise to emotional and 

behavioural reactions to indirectly experiencing hate crime victimization. This was 

especially evidenced during discussions about global suffering of ingroup 

members, but also when exploring the indirect impacts of hate crimes against other 

groups. In relation to the latter, individuals spoke of feeling angry about incidents 

but to a lesser degree than same group hate crimes, while fewer individuals also 

spoke of feeling vulnerable or anxious as a result (though these feelings were still 

observed amongst some interviewees). 

Finally, we had expected that strength of group identification would also affect 

group members’ reactions to indirect hate crimes. However, it was not clear from 

the qualitative data whether the level of group identity or connection to 

“community” mediated the types and level of harms experienced by group 

members. Muslim identities were certainly more unequivocal, central, and 

regularly enacted through religious practice/guidance, while LGBT identities were 

more fluid and contextual, and although there were shared practices, these were 

more socially based. Nonetheless, regardless of these slightly diverging 

experiences of identity and community, the perception of threat appeared to be 

similar across the groups. Indeed, both communities responded in ways predicted 

by IET (proactive and avoidant), showing that some minimal level of group 

identification is all that is needed to elicit group members’ responses to indirect 

hate crimes. 

The research showed that the indirect experiences of hate crime result in distinct 

types of harm, which are likely to affect entire communities of people. A key 

difference between hate and non-hate motivated offences is that the impacts of 

hate ripple out to other people who share a group identity, often causing emotional 

and behavioural harms that go well beyond the general anxieties and desires for 

safety and security that are typically caused by crime. A nuanced comprehension 

of community that takes into consideration locality, sociality and local practices, as 

well as group identity, is key to understanding both the types and gravity of harms 

caused by targeted victimization. If we are to more effectively respond to the 

deleterious impacts of hate crime, be it in law or via criminal justice interventions, 



 29 

we must first understand the extent to which such incidents indirectly affect entire 

communities of people. Only then can the state offer a more comprehensive 

framework of measures that can properly address both the direct and indirect 

effects of hate.  

 

Acknowledgements 

We would like to thank Kay Goodall, Paul McGuinness and the journal reviewers 

for their helpful comments on an earlier version of this article. This work was 

supported by the Leverhulme Trust [grant number RPG-2013-027]. 

 

 

 

  



 30 

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	Abstract
	Keywords
	Introduction
	The ripple effect of hate incidents
	The role of “community”
	Findings from the Sussex Hate Crime Project
	Methodology
	Understanding “community” as part of the community impacts of hate crime: the importance of location
	Community-based practices and engagement as forming part of “community”
	Strength of group identity as forming part of community membership

	Intersecting identities
	The indirect impacts of hate crime victimization
	Global experiences and impacts of indirect hate crimes
	Reactions to hate crimes targeting another group
	Discussion: conceptualizing community and understanding the indirect harms of hate
	References