Rachel felt the stare even before she saw him. Her heart racing with fear, she kept her eyes down and started walking towards her office in downtown Los Angeles. The man started following her.

"You are in the US now, you don't have to wear that here," he shouted, pointing to her headscarf.

"I'm a Muslim, I want to wear it," she retorted.

The man sneered.

Rachel quickened her pace, grabbing onto the can of mace she kept in her purse.

"Keep walking, just a few more steps," she whispered to herself.

The man kept following her, shouting obscenities.

"Nearly there," she told herself as she approached her building.

"They ought to shoot all Muslims," he screamed as she ran the last couple of steps into her office.

The incident left Rachel Kuzma in tears. Ever since the Sept 11 attacks she had been afraid for herself and for her Algerian born husband. A Caucasian American with light hair and green eyes, Rachel would be an unlikely target for a racial attack - if it weren't for the headscarf she has worn ever since she converted to Islam.

"When I heard stories of Muslims being targeted, I seriously considered taking the hijab off. But there is another Muslim woman at work and she reassured me and told me to be brave," she said.

With nearly daily reports of hate crimes and racial profiling after Sept. 11, American Muslims are turning to their community for support and assistance. Various Muslim organization like the Council for American Muslims, the Muslim Community Association and the American Muslims for Global Peace and Justice are helping by holding mosque open houses, by setting up hotlines and websites, by handing out flyers and by helping people file police reports and get in touch with lawyers.

With their religion under constant criticism and with their patriotism and loyalty as US citizens questioned, American Muslims are trying hard to differentiate between Islam and the terrorists. While condemning the incidents of Sept. 11 they have tried to raise awareness about the "real" Islam by writing articles, appearing on TV, lobbying Congress and the Bush administration.

"Sept 11 was a wake up call," said Samir Laymoon, an activist with the Muslim Community Association. "In the past no one was interested in our outreach programs, but people are curious now."

But despite all efforts, over 1452 hate incident have been reported by Muslim organizations like Council for American Islamic Relations since Sept 11, 297 of them in California. The attacks have ranged from verbal harassment and accusatory glares to physical abuse and vandalism. And that, say activists like Iman Farajallah who set up a hate hotline in her home, is just the tip of the iceberg. Most attacks go unreported as fear of the authorities prompts most people to remain quiet.

"People are afraid of going out," said Farajallah, "there is a feeling of suspicion, of unease and mistrust of others. Women, especially, are very scared and many of them have taken their hijab off for fear of retaliation."

This fear of retaliation prompted administrators of Granada Islamic School, a private school in the East Bay, to close down for a couple of days. Attendance also fluctuated as parents moved their children to other schools, fearing that Granada might be targeted. On the other hand according to Principal Khaled Obaid, "There were many parents who feared for their children's safety in public schools and transferred them to our school."

But the most difficult task was explaining the Sept 11 attacks and the hate crimes to the children. So as soon as the school opened, Obaid and his staff held assemblies and started talking to the students. "The children are confused and bewildered," said Obaid. "The most common questions they asked us was 'why are people blaming us?' We told them that terrorism knows nothing about religion or culture. And we gave them examples of all the support we had received from people of other religions."

Transcending boundaries of religion and culture, US Muslims are finding support from neighbors and friends. "We have had people coming to us and asking if they could help," said Farajallah. "They distributed flyers, escorted children to schools and raised awareness about Islam by asking their friends and families to attend mosque open houses. The support has been overwhelming."

Said Laymoon, "People's support has been heartwarming, but the community is still anxious and worried especially with all the arrests and talks of military courts." This feeling of fear, anger and confusion was most obvious among a group of men talking about the official backlash after their Friday prayers at the Stanford Islamic Center.

"The government has to be careful," said Ali Hussain, a software engineer from Mountain View. "There is a good chance that these laws might be unfairly applied to particular groups. It's the governments duty to protect its citizens and we are citizens too."

First generation immigrants like Aladdin Nasser feel betrayed and lost. "We cherish the civil liberties of this country even more because we come from countries with no such freedoms," he said. "I don't think people realize the tragic consequences of these laws. After the Oklahoma bombing, nobody profiled white Americans. So the arrests and racial profiling is ridiculous and inconsistent."

Most Muslims share this feeling. "It has been a chaotic time for me as an American Muslim," said Rachel Kuzma. I'm afraid for my husband especially since he is in the process of becoming a naturalized citizen. I keep waiting for the FBI to show up at my door."

Riad Abdelkarim, an American born physician, recalls his brush with the FBI, who visited him a couple of times asking him questions about his background and work. But when he fell ill and didn't show up at work one day, two agents turned up at his doorstep, refusing to leave till they had seen him. They were afraid he had fled the country.

"I found this quite disheartening," recalls Abdelkarim. "Where would I go? I am an American. I do not possess nor do I desire any other citizenship."

These very questions were asked by the men at the Stanford Islamic Center. The terrorist attacks have brought issues of identity and nationality to the forefront. American Muslims feel that they have been asked to choose between their religion and their country. And that is a choice they are not willing to make.

They are angry - with the terrorists for putting their religion in the docks and with the government for even considering actions that might harm thousands of its citizens. They see a difficult road ahead, trying to convince a nation that they share its sorrow as fellow Americans. Most of them came to the US seeking a better life for themselves and their children. They wanted security and freedom, two things that were snatched away by the Sept. 11 attacks. They feel doubly violated.

"People tell us to go back home. But where is home?" questioned Nasser. "We made the decision to immigrate and we are citizens of this country now. I might be able to go back to Egypt, but not my children for this is their home."