Archives Month, Libraries, Scholasticide, & 'Rise Up for Gaza' Event

 October is American Archives Month, and the library where I work is hosting an upcoming Open House event at the Archives Building. Later this week, I will be on campus finishing a display to highlight this theme and the upcoming event. And of course, whenever I am at work inside the library building, or whenever I am working on promotions for these programs and events, I can't help but think of Gaza and Palestine, and the relentless Israeli attacks on Palestinian libraries, schools, universities, archives, museums, and cultural heritage sites. 

To quote the Society for American Archivists: 

"American Archives Month is a time to focus on the importance of records of enduring value and to enhance public recognition for the people and programs that are responsible for maintaining our communities’ vital historical records."

This incongruity and disconnect pains me, as does everything about this genocide, especially tonight on the eve of the two-year anniversary of when its acceleration began. I continue to carry Gaza and Palestine in my heart and mind no matter what I am doing. 

In honor of Palestine, of survival, of 'Archives Month,' of cultural heritage, of everything every Palestinian person is doing to keep going and try to survive as we collectively keep trying to end the genocide and also the violent and illegal siege and occupation, I have shared a slideshow video I created for the recent Bookshare Giveaway fundraising event, which features some of the words and images from educators, writers, and book-rescuers in Gaza, as well as information about the libraries, universities, and cultural heritage sites that have come under attack as part of this scholasticide. 

Two of the featured contributors are dear friends and also the primary points of contact for two of the 'eight families.' The other two featured contributors are also very dear and important to me, and it was really through my connections to them and because of all that they generously shared that I developed the relationships I now have with the families to whom I am closest. And my heart will be forever grateful to them, for this, and for so much more. I hope you will take a look at these slides and that they will help you understand how we are connected to Gaza, and how we must do everything we can to support those who are trying to survive.

In closing, for those of you who are in Bellingham, I hope to see you at the 'Rise up for Gaza' rally and march at 5pm tomorrow, October 7, beginning at the Farmers Market and ending at the Maritime Heritage Park. 

Yanis, Leila, Mahdi & Family - Souls of Recognition

Recently, a friend told me about a belief from her religious faith that resonated with me. She explained this belief is that we are born into our lives already connected to people who we became separated from, and that at some point when we are most in need of finding each other, God helps bring us back together. And when we see them, when we meet, it is as though we recognize each other–it is as though we have known each other all along. What she shared struck a chord with me because I have experienced this phenomenon with the families in Gaza who I am closest to, in particular with my friend Yanis and his family.

 
I still remember the first voice note I ever received from Yanis’ wife, Leila. It came to me when I was having a very difficult time, at the exact moment when I was struggling the most. There was something so familiar about her voice, so powerful in hearing her words–something shifted, inside of me. It was as though for just a moment, we were in the same place, connected by something invisible yet tangible. I felt a flash of recognition, a boost of support, as though she had taken my hand and looked into my eyes and made our hearts smile in unison. Since then, this feeling has only grown stronger. I feel a deep and abiding kinship, friendship, and loyalty to both Yanis and Leila, and by extension, their families. My connection to them has been life-changing and profound, and I am deeply honored to write this in an attempt to introduce you to them today.

Yanis and his wife are parents to their beautiful son Mahdi, and their family also includes Yanis’ younger brothers, his mother, and more family members through their extended families on both sides. Yanis has also been committed to helping provide for his mother and his siblings from a young age when his father was killed during the bombing of their house by Israeli Occupation Forces in 2014. Every member of Yanis’ family has lost friends, loved ones, and more members of their extended families these past two years; their networks of care and responsibility have also expanded as they try to deal with both individual and collective losses and grief. It has not been easy, and in fact, things have only grown harder. But through it all, this family keeps going, keeps trying, and keeps sending love to those around them.

My messages to them frequently begin with the greeting, “Hello, Beautiful Family,” because that is what they are to me–a family that is beautiful in every way, despite the hardship and suffering they have been forced to endure. Every day they try to find a way to create moments of joy for sweet Mahdi, who I adore and wish could have every happiness.

I once wrote that Mahdi has a smile that spreads joy and love, a smile that lights up the world and makes you believe that anything is possible. And I can’t help but credit his parents with being the birthplace of this smile. Because while Mahdi’s smile belongs to him, and although he generously shares it with us, it is because of everything his parents are doing, even in the midst of so much hardship and danger, that sweet Mahdi smiles. And the love Yanis and Leila have for their son is also as beautiful as Mahdi’s smile.

Yanis’ own words about Mahdi express his deep love for him, as he explains, 

“As for my only child, he is the accent of my heart, and the fulfilment of my dream of becoming a father. But my child suffers from a birth defect in the heart, and needs special care for that, and this is what hurts my heart the most in this sorrowful war. I suffer with every breath when my child does not get his milk, diapers, and his most basic rights, like the rest of the children. By the way, Mahdi loves bananas and loves to play cars, and he also loves all animals.”

Love and compassion are at the core of Yanis’ nature, and this is evident not just in how he cares for his family, but also how his kind heart responds to others around him, often those who need help. His compassion is evident in how he tries to offer support to others in need, and also in the friendship he has given to me. He and Leila have shown me remarkable kindness and generosity, and they even include me in the small celebratory moments they keep trying to create within their lives, in spite of the many dangers and constraints imposed upon them by the genocide.

Before October 2023, this family had been building a beautiful life for themselves, even within the limitations caused by the occupation. They had created a world of shining light and beauty, and even though it may feel as though the darkness of what has since happened has taken this all away, this light and beauty still remain. Because this family carries this world of light and beauty within them. It is in their nature. It is in their commitment. And it is evident in their love for each other. I pray for the day when they will have safety, comfort, and opportunity to again create the lives they want and deserve. And I am determined to be here for them in every way I can be, now and for the rest of my life.

And one way I am doing this is by trying to bring them closer to you, to ask you to help them too. Our sustained support helps get them closer to the future they deserve, helps them survive the dangers that are still present now.

For those of you reading this who are in the Bellingham area, you have two upcoming opportunities to participate in local events that will support this sweet family, the first one being a fundraiser yoga class benefit on Friday, October 3, 2025 at 6pm at Flux Power Yoga, with donations from this class going towards Yanis and his family; and the second will be during the next  "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices” presentation, which will be at 3:30 pm on Saturday, October 18, 2025 at the Bellingham Public Library. (This event is not sponsored by the Bellingham Public Library).

I hope to see you at either or both of those events! And I thank you for reading this, and for supporting this family however you can.

UPCOMING EVENT: "Eight Families in Gaza - Amplifying Their Voices," Oct.18, 2025

This special presentation, developed in collaboration with eight families in Gaza & presented by Bellingham resident Clarissa Mansfield, offers a chance to learn about the lives, loves, and challenges of these families as they try to survive the genocide. Join us to learn more about them, and about how you can give meaningful & direct support to Palestinians in Gaza.

Saturday, October 18, 2025 from 3:30 pm to 5pm at the Bellingham Public Library. 

This event is not sponsored by the Bellingham Public Library, and is offered in affiliation with the Whatcom Coalition for Palestine, & Whatcom Families for Justice in Palestine.

Bookshare and Give-Away Fundraiser for PALESTINE, Sunday September 28, 2025

We are happy to announce we'll be hosting another  Bookshare & Give-Away fundraising event at the Bellingham Public Library this weekend on Sunday, September 28, 2025. Books and other media will be available to be shared and given away as encouragement  and incentive to those who will make donations to families in Gaza. 

Stop by and browse an assortment of books and other media donated by local community members and free for the community, in exchange for donations to support Palestinian families in Gaza, and in homage to those whose libraries and book collections have been targeted and destroyed by Israel. 

I will be bringing in more selections from the bulk of my own personal library, which I have built over the past 25 years, in the hopes of turning something I once loved into support for people who I now love even more. 

Palestine has been renowned for years as having one of the highest literacy rates in the world, and as being a place where education and reading are valued, supported, and highly esteemed. Education is integrated into Palestinian culture, heritage, and identity. Which is why Israel (with the support of the United States government) has always targeted it.

The targeting and destruction of libraries in Gaza, and the violent attacks and killings of library employees is something that should demand the attention and solidarity of every library worker and library professional in the world. Literature, books, writing, and libraries are important features of Palestinian life and culture, and I have heard many stories and seen many photos of friends in Gaza who tried desperately to rescue their books from the rubble of their homes, their schools, and the bombed library buildings. 

I have also seen Palestinians resorting to burning books for fuel to survive during the harsh winter or for cooking, because of Israel's continued illegal blockade, which is currently still in place, as the genocide expands its reach, and as Israel and the U.S. continue to violently assault and kill Palestinians in Gaza using every possible means and method to cause suffering, harm, psychological distress, and death. 

All of this has deeply affected the way I feel about my personal library, as well as feelings I have about my own profession as a library worker here in the U.S. , and my commitment as a library worker to be in solidarity with library and archives employees and professionals in Gaza and throughout Palestine. I will also have some information on hand about what you can do to support library workers, students, and educators who are still in Gaza now. 

This event is affiliated with the Whatcom Coalition for Palestine, the Whatcom Families for Justice in Palestine, and the "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices" public presentation and community support effort. (This event is not sponsored by the Bellingham Public Library).

Ashraf & Dina - Of Quiet Strength & Kindness

I don’t really know why Ashraf and I connected so easily and quickly when we first met, but for whatever reason, we did. I think it might have been the gentle way he reached out to me for guidance and advice; his kind nature touched my heart. He knew I was someone he could trust because of my friendship with one of his cousins, another dear friend in Gaza, and I quickly learned Ashraf was someone I could trust too. Ashraf, his sister Dina, (who I met through him), and his cousin, (who I also hope to tell you more about later), are all very important to me. I am honored to be friends with them, to care about them, and to know them.

Ashraf is the middle child in a family with brothers and sisters on either side. He worries a lot about his parents and his sisters' children. He feels responsible for all of them. He is the primary contact for his family and extended family of 18 people–adults, children, and elders– and he has been trying as hard as he can to raise enough support for them, which has not been easy.

Before October 2023, Ashraf had gone to school for accounting and he had had his own store; he had been a business owner and his business had done well. He was proud of his work, and he misses his independence and the security he found through his career. Ashraf loved the life he had been building for himself, and he had many interests and hobbies and things he enjoyed doing. But it is hard for him to think about these things now when every moment is focused on survival.

Ashraf possesses a sincerity and a quiet strength that resonates with my heart, and his gentle sweetness and caring nature are clear in everything he says and does. Self-promotion is not something he knows how to devote himself to with comfort or ease, and using social media to grow a supportive base is not something that has come easily. Support garnered through social media interactions has not generated enough for his family, and they have been struggling greatly. I have been trying to help since the first moment we met, but finding support for Ashraf and his family through online connections has been difficult.

Currently, most of Ashraf’s support comes from my local community, from people who have gotten to know him and his family through conversations with me and  presentations I have given. This base has made a huge difference in his family’s life, but we urgently need to expand it and are still seeking more help with this.

I often think about how unjust it is that people who have already experienced so much loss and injustice are put in the position of having to fundraise for their survival. And yet, without the funds raised through mutual aid and crowdfunding, things would be even worse, because there has been nothing else providing support.

Ashraf is another friend who has changed my life forever. Once, when I asked him to tell me something he liked about himself, he told me that he liked that he is helpful --that being helpful to others is one of his favorite things. And I recognize the truth of this. Ashraf has a beautiful and poetic soul, which is evident in the way he speaks and communicates. His words reflect his compassionate nature, a strength that also makes him vulnerable to experiencing feelings on a very deep emotional and physical level. He is highly sensitive and empathetic, and one of the hardest things for him has been to see others suffering while not being able to alleviate their pain.

When we first met, before the so-called ceasefire this past winter, and up until recently, Ashraf and I used to talk often, almost every day, and it was through these many conversations I grew to care more and more about him, and our friendship quickly expanded. Lately it is rare for me to hear from him directly, and I miss him terribly. Thankfully, his sister Dina will check in with me whenever she can, and every time I hear from her my gratitude towards them only increases, as I know it is not easy to stay connected and to endure.

During our last conversation many weeks ago now, Ashraf explained to me how he and his family are very tired, and he spoke about how this life is taking a toll–this constant daily struggle for basic needs and survival amidst incessant danger. People are too tired to even hope for change, and uncertainty has become as constant as the presence of death and danger.

It has become very hard for Ashraf and his family to hold on to hope, and I understand this. Hope takes energy and effort. And starvation and constant loss and trauma are not things that make this easy. Staying connected to those of us outside Gaza who are trying to offer support helps, but his phone was stolen and obtaining a new one is difficult and expensive. Not having a phone has increased Ashraf’s sense of isolation, as phones are a lifeline for families in Gaza, helping them find and access both emotional and material support. I keep hoping we will come across a generous donor with the means to offer enough for Ashraf to be able to purchase a new phone, but as food and medicine come first, it would require either a significant generous donation, or substantial growth in sustained support.

Ashraf’s lovely sister Dina is as sweet and kind as her dear brother, and whenever we speak, her primary focus is always on her daughter, Areej. Dina is smart and bright, a beautiful mother who cares strongly about her child and her family. She wants Areej to have everything she needs, and it hurts her to see her daughter suffer.

Dina and her husband are both loving parents struggling to survive because of the great injustices done to them. They miss the beautiful life they had been creating for themselves, and mourn the chance they had to pursue their dreams. Now their every moment is focused on trying to survive, trying to find food, water, and medicine, and trying to live amidst unending violence and danger.

As Dina once explained to me: “Oh how I wish for life…Or for life to come back to us. We have become very tired. No one knows how much we need life. I want to work with my degree. To manage my life and my time. To live my motherhood like the rest of the world. What is this that we are in? We were comfortable in our life, but unfortunately everything was destroyed, and I still haven't grasped this. My degrees, my home, my clothes, my precious jobs, my memories. This is painful, very painful. I am a business administration graduate and I dreamed of building my own business. But today I dream of building my life from scratch.”

Ashraf and Dina each have their own survival campaigns, which is also a place where I will post updates about their situation, written in collaboration with them. Currently, they are both in urgent need of more emergency support for themselves and their families, as the violence in Gaza City is expanding exponentially, and conditions have only grown increasingly dire.

Today I write in an attempt to introduce you to them, to ask you to care about them and their families, and to request you give them whatever support you can. They are facing yet another violent forced displacement, and they do not have any options or resources. Whatever we can give them now will help them survive, and will also demonstrate to them that they are not alone, despite having been abandoned and betrayed by the many international governance structures and institutions that claim to uphold human rights.

I also write to thank those of you who are already supporting Ashraf and Dina and their families, to remind you again that what you are doing is helping, and to ask you to please continue. There are many in my community who are trying to fundraise, donating their time and their money whenever they can, and without those efforts, things would be even worse.  And so again I will say even though what we have been doing is not enough, it is helping. And it is needed. And we must keep trying to build on the support we have, and to do all we can to help these families survive.

Below are the links to their survival campaigns, where you can donate to them directly online, and you also have the option of signing up to become a regular donor with a sustaining weekly or monthly contribution. 

• For Ashraf and His Family: "Help Ashraf and His Family Survive in Gaza"
• For Dina & her family: "Help Areej and Her Family to Have Good Life."

[For those of you who are in the Bellingham area this coming Friday, September 19, 2025, there is another fundraiser yoga class benefit on Friday, September 19, 2025,  at 6pm at Flux Power Yoga, with donations from this class going to support Ashraf and Dina and their families.]

Israel Bombs Tents

Israel bomb tents. Israel bombs families. Israel bombs schools. Israel bombs healthcare centers, hospitals, and rehabilitation facilities.

Israel bombs apartment and residential buildings. Water treatment facilities. Community kitchens. Animal shelters. 

Israel bombs cafes. Grocery stores. Libraries. Offices. Businesses.

Israel bombs universities. Museums. Churches. Mosques. Cultural heritage sites. Warehouses with food. Ambulances. Search and rescue vehicles and equipment. 

Israel kills children waiting in line for water. Israel kills people who have been starved who are trying to find food for their families. People fleeing danger, as they are trying to flee, after being terrorized and threatened. And even fleeing isn't possible, because there is no safe place inside Gaza to go to, and there is no evacuation away from danger. 

Israel kills Palestinian mothers, fathers, grandparents, children, friends, cousins, teachers, doctors, librarians, writers, journalists, nurses, farmers, anyone, everyone, no matter their profession or identity.

Israel uses psychological terror to enhance the horror of the violence they are inflicting upon the Palestinian people, with illumination flares lighting up the sky being one of the latest features of this approach, as they keep finding new ways to add to their repertoire of traumatization. 

Israel is inflicting and causing mass disablement on an entire population. 

Israel, with the full support of the United States --which bears responsibility and owns this genocide, because without its support, none of this could be happening--Israel and the United States have been doing this for almost two years now. 

And no one has been able to stop it. 

While there are many in this country who care, there are many more who don't, who don't differ that much from the Israelis who are living along the border of the sites of violence and forced starvation while justifying it or choosing not to think about it, as they continue to go about their regular lives--dining at restaurants, going out to movies and shows and entertainment venues, planning vacations, and enjoying themselves. Or maybe they complain about their own hardships, their own pressures and finances, jobs and lives. And all of this while still choosing to ignore, or condone, or support, or deny the atrocities being done in their name by their government. 

We, in this country, may not share a physical border with Gaza, but the reach of America's imperial arm is long, and if distance is measured by power, money, and influence, then this country is as close to  Palestine as Israel is. 

What will it take? Will more people in the U.S. ever decide there can be no normal life until this ends? Shouldn't this have already happened? What will it take for more people in this country to care, to do more, to understand the seriousness of this, to recognize their own responsibility? To not treat the person who keeps bringing this up as the problem. To not become more focused on someone's negative reaction to a shirt expressing solidarity with Palestine than on the actual genocide the person wearing the shirt is opposing. 

I don't know what it will finally take. I wish I did. I only know that those of us who are trying, who have been trying, we have to keep trying. We have to keep finding new ways to do more. We have to do everything we can, and keep finding new things to do. 

As I write these words, as I think about the families in Gaza, the ones I know personally, the ones who I do not know, as I wonder how much longer they can continue like this, I read the words of Asem Alnabih, posted online three minutes ago: 

عاصم النبيه Asem Alnabih

@AsemAlnabeh

·

3m

Another night added to the long list of the most brutal and harrowing nights since the war began.

What’s different now is the sheer collapse of human endurance, after nearly two years of relentless assault, the people of Gaza are worn thin by the daily fight for survival and its crushing emotional and financial toll. Morning breaks here not with light, but with the choking dust of bombs, the echo of explosions, and the aching cries of families who spent the night in the streets, with nowhere to go and no answers in sight.

Nowhere to go and no answers in sight. We must change this. 

Aboud: Chosen Families

I write to introduce you to someone important to me, to give you a glimpse of someone who has changed my life, in the hopes that if you read this, he might also affect you. And perhaps what you learn about him will compel you to think of him and his family, and to give them your support.

My friend Aboud is the primary point of contact for one of the families who I have been trying to introduce to my local community through the “Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices”    presentations. He has been very kind and very generous to share with me things I have shared with others, as I try to bring him and his family closer to others in my life.

I don’t know why certain people enter our lives unexpectedly, in ways that can be both uniquely profound and yet somehow familiar. But this is how it has been for me with Aboud. From the very first moment we met, it was as though he had always been part of my life, so much so that I cannot imagine my life without him. I cannot fathom a life without his presence, his kindness, his words.

Aboud is the eldest son in a family with four boys and two girls. He is married, with a young son named Bassam, who was only three months old in October 2023. This past winter I became the host and manager of Aboud’s family’s survival campaign, as my personal commitment to him grew and continues to grow. And I have also come to regard him and his family as being part of my family too.

Aboud is thoughtful, funny, and charming, and despite the many dangers, hardships, and suffering he faces every moment as he tries to help his family survive the genocide, he still somehow brightens my world each day. I care about him and his family on the deepest level. Sometimes your family is who you are born to and live among, but sometimes you find members of your family later in life. Sometimes you are not born into the family that you find, or into the family that finds you.

Once, during a verification interview with the bank that was facilitating an international transfer, the bank employee asked me if I was sending the transfer to a family member, to which I answered without thinking, yes, I was. I explained that we were not related by blood, but that they were my chosen family. And they were just as important to me as my own family. I explained that, for me, it is as though they are my actual family, even if we are not related. And thankfully, the person at the bank responded, “I understand.”

Aboud is also sweet, loyal, and kind. He is a man of his word, and when he promises something, I know I can count on him to follow through with whatever it is he agreed to. We are well-matched in our seriousness about not making promises we cannot keep, and about making sure we are always honest with each other. And I can say with absolute confidence that Aboud has my complete trust and undying loyalty.

Aboud is also sensitive, compassionate, understanding, and caring, with a strong sense of justice, and a desire to protect those who are vulnerable, particularly the children and the elderly, who he has seen suffer greatly during this genocide. He is deeply committed to his family, especially the children, who he would do anything to protect. He has told me repeatedly that “the children are everything.” Aboud feels responsible for the well-being of his family, and he carries the weight of this on his young shoulders with a sincere and earnest commitment.

I sometimes worry about him feeling responsible for so much, even taking responsibility for things that are not his fault, things that are beyond his control. I will admit I often worry about him the way a mother would, and my maternal feelings towards him are part of our relationship and friendship. Having never had children of my own, he has offered to be like the son I never had, an offer he made to me accompanied by the blessing of his real mother, who is just as beautiful and generous as her son. And I am deeply grateful to them both for this.

Aboud is someone who children are happy to be near, as he appreciates them and wants them to have every happiness. He is someone whose eyes sparkle like the stars, and whose smile has the warmth of a thousand sunbeams. Sometimes he will tease me, as though I really was his mother, and these glimpses I get into his playful humor reflect what I think is his true nature, and what he would be like all the time if he wasn’t trapped in the conditions of genocide. His charm is irrepressible, and I can tell he is someone who loves to laugh, who loves to make others laugh, who sees the beauty of life and creates enjoyment for those around him. I also see glimpses of these same qualities in his little son Bassam, who I think takes after his father in this way.

Aboud and I have talked before about those deeper things in life–the things that matter–love, family, fulfillment, beauty, and truth. And through these conversations, through the way he has shared his thoughts and insights, the thing that has grown stronger for me over time is my overwhelming desire for him to have the chance to truly live his life again, to be free to be the beautiful father that he is without also having to carry the ever-present stress, worry, and fear that living in life-threatening conditions creates.

Currently, Aboud and his family are facing many dangers, and they are in urgent need of more support from us, which is partly why I am writing this now, with Aboud’s permission and support. Through what we have been able to raise, Aboud is supporting his own immediate family, as well as his parents, siblings, nephews, nieces, and multiple members of his extended family. There are many people standing along-side him that you cannot see, many people he is trying to help survive.

And so I ask whoever reads this to please think about him and his family, please remember them, care about them, and help them survive. You can do this by  giving them direct material aid that will enable them to buy food, medicine, clothing, shelter, and all of the things necessary for them to keep going in this violent and harsh unjust environment where there is danger constantly approaching from all sides. Anything you can give is needed. It will help, and it will also demonstrate to Aboud and his family that they matter, that they are important, and that we are against what is being done to them, and we want them to survive.

[For those in the Bellingham area, there is a fundraiser yoga class benefit on Friday, September 5, 2025 at 6pm at Flux Power Yoga, with donations from this class going towards Aboud and his family.]