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.]

Mohammed: The Student Who Teaches Me

 

I have worked in higher education for over two decades through my career in academic libraries, and during this time I have encountered students and educators who have affected me deeply, who I have collaborated with and learned from, but in all my life, I have never met a student quite like Mohammed. He has a light inside of him that refuses to be dimmed, even in the darkest nights when there seems to be nothing but shadows. He has a love for life and for learning that sustains him, that gives him strength, strength which he shares with everyone he knows, including me.

Mohammed is from Gaza, Palestine. He is currently still in Gaza, but there is the possibility that he may be able to come to the university where I work to complete his undergraduate degree, and I am determined to do everything I can to make this possibility a reality. Mohammed is also the primary contact for one of the families who I have been trying to connect to my local community here in Bellingham. I have spoken about Mohammed during the public presentations, “Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices,” presentations which were developed in collaboration with the featured families. Mohammed has generously shared many things with me, and he has also given me much to share with my local community. In doing this, he has helped me raise support not just for his own family, but for other families in Gaza too.

Back in May 2025, when I told Mohammed I would be giving a version of this presentation at Western Washington University, and when I explained how I also wanted to talk about what I see as our obligation and responsibility as students and educators to our peers and colleagues in Gaza, he was very excited to tell me more about his educational journey, and to share more about his love of learning.

He has been enamored with education from an early age, and his middle school and high school years were filled with numerous achievements and awards. He excelled in his classes, and his successes inspired him to become even more dedicated to pursuing his education. When he graduated from high school, he ranked among the highest percentile of his peers.

As Mohammed explains, “I’ve always loved studying and cared deeply about knowledge, and I’ve dreamed of being successful in my academic life. I’m still striving for that to this day. Now that I've reached the university level, I dream of excelling in my studies and hope to be able to complete them successfully.”

Mohammed is currently an engineering student, and he has been taking classes online in Gaza this entire time, even in the midst of the forced starvation and falling bombs, and he has done really well. He is also as dedicated to his family and his community as he is to his studies. And every time we speak, he demonstrates a rare emotional depth and understanding based in integrity and compassion that affects me profoundly. I always tell people that I respectfully and affectionately refer to Mohammed as “The Student Who Teaches Me,” as he shows me time and time again that wisdom is not something that only comes with age. I am grateful every time we have a chance to talk. He has taught me so much about commitment, about what it means to hold on to life, to love, to beauty and morality, even in the face of devastation, destruction, and suffering. I am proud to know him, to be his friend, and to have his friendship.

Over this past year, I have also tried to find more supporters for Mohammed at WWU. A student at Western once asked me if I thought Western would benefit from Mohammed joining the university as a student, to which I replied absolutely and unequivocally, yes. Western would be lucky to have him as a student, and Bellingham would be lucky to have him in our community. I have no doubt that we would be the ones gaining so much through his presence.

Towards the end of this past academic year I received a verbal commitment from WWU to fund the remainder of Mohammed’s undergraduate education, as they would offer support to him as a student displaced because of war whose educational journey has been disrupted, if we are able to help Mohammed apply as a transfer student and once he is formally accepted to the university. This is our focus right now, and we are facing each new challenge as we work on pulling together the materials he will need for his application, while also fundraising to cover the costs of the various fees, documents, and other expenses he will need. This is all happening while every day is still a struggle for survival, and as Mohammed continues to take care of his family.

I write and share these words today with Mohammed’s blessing and permission, as we make another attempt to reach more people in new ways, in order to expand our circle of supporters. I hope if you are reading these words, you will take advantage of this opportunity to give your support to a student who deserves the chance to pursue his dreams and rebuild his life. You can make a difference by helping a dedicated student at this critical time. You can help by giving your support to Mohammed’s educational fundraising campaign and his family’s survival campaign.

Thursday, August 28, 2025 - Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices

On Thursday, August 28, 2025 at 7pm at the Whatcom Peace & Justice Center here in Bellingham, I will be giving another presentation of "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices." I hope if you have not already attended (or even if you have!) that you will come and join us for this special event. It is an opportunity to learn more about families in Gaza who are trying to survive the ongoing accelerated genocide, and find out about how you can add your support to that of so many of us in the Bellingham & Whatcom County (and also Whidbey, and now also Tonasket & Okanogan) areas and communities.

The featured families themselves have given us so much, and are still sharing with us all that they can. We owe it to them to listen to what they are saying, and to do everything possible to help them survive.  

I really hope to see you there. 

(Special thanks to the eight featured families, to Whatcom Families for Justice in Palestine, to the Whatcom Coalition for Palestine, and to the Whatcom Peace & Justice Center).

Displacement

I recently read an article, "Displacement as trauma and trauma as displacement in the experience of refugees," by Monica Luci, about displacement and trauma, the impacts on survivors, the scars it leaves. There was a passage that talked about the "irreversible loss of  home," and explained how: 

"There is a powerful sense of rightness in being at home: safety, meaningful connections to others, nurturing and stability, and other conditions that favour growth and prosperity. Home is where one dwells, concretely and metaphorically: it is the core of our existence as human beings, something very fundamental and also very symbolic."

Displacement. Again, I struggle with words that are not strong enough, that cannot adequately communicate the depth and full spectrum of all they are intended to encompass. How is this word supposed to capture the full extent of the damage and impact, its physical, psychological and emotional effects, its legacy of intergenerational trauma, the ever-present anxiety, its instillation of fear? No safety. No rest. 

The specter and reality of displacement looms heavily over every Palestinian, no matter where they may be. They carry it in their bodies, in their hearts, in their families. 

Displacement is a form of violence. It is integral to this genocide. Displacement is stressful and traumatizing. It is a tortuous harmful infliction, an expensive and painful process, something that carries the weight and feeling, the devastation and loss of previous displacements. Displacement is traumatic, dangerous, difficult, and filled with suffering.

This article goes on to explore the relationship between one's home and one's sense of self, and also touches on not just the trauma of displacement, but how trauma can also cause displacement within one's own self--the trauma of displacement, of the displacement within one's own self, in addition to their displacement from their physical exterior environment. 

"...there is an inner displacement in the self due to a dramatic change in the interplay between inner and outer worlds that profoundly alters the previous organization between the ego-complex and other autonomous complexes. The word displacement derives from the French deplacer, which is ‘the removal of something from its usual place or position by something which then occupies that place or position’. Other meanings of the word are more technical, but the emphasis is always on not only the movement, but the extraction of something from a natural place and its substitution/replacement by something else. There is implied in the meaning a sense of territorial contention..."

The removal of something from its natural place by something which then occupies that place. Displacement. Occupation. Trauma. Words that contain and carry more than they can hold, for people who are enduring more than anyone should ever have to experience. Luci also talks about the split that can happen, how trauma can divide a person's self.

"Often what happens in trauma is that, when psyche and soma are forced apart, their cohesion is sacrificed to the need to survive psychically, and the body insists on witnessing what the mind cannot bear. This means that memories are encoded in the most primitive way, as motoric or sensory body memories divorced from emotion and cognition, which are easily aroused after trauma."

Every family I speak with in Gaza--every single one, not only the eight families who I am most committed to, but dozens and dozens of families--have all witnessed and been exposed to extreme violence and experienced trauma, and have all been forcibly displaced multiple times. And it is happening again, right now, as Israel is expanding its violence and moving forward with its plan to completely destroy Gaza City and the surrounding areas, terrorizing and targeting civilians without any pretense or guise, flying drones nearby to enhance psychological terror, drones that play gleefully threatening audio messages exclaiming, “Wait and see, people of Gaza, wait for what’s coming to you!” ensuring there is no rest, no safety, not even a single moment devoid of fear or terror. 

Yesterday, the U.S. and Israel announced another deal between Israel and Boeing to purchase two Boeing-made KC-46 military aerial refueling tankers in a $500 million deal to be financed with U.S. military aid. The Israeli Occupation already uses four Boeing-made KC-46 aerial tankers in this genocidal war, but the Ministry Director General Amir Baram said in a statement on August 20, 2025 statement that the aircraft would "strengthen the military's long-range strategic capabilities, enabling it to operate farther afield with greater force and with increased scope." 

With greater force and increased scope. 

They are bombing children. They are bombing families. They are bombing every form of life, every structure, every piece of land and all who inhabit it. Every animal, every stone, every tree, every memory. And they have announced their intention to do this throughout Gaza. They are implementing a plan to completely destroy every remaining structure, every house, to travel street by street, to kill and uproot those who remain, to cut off water and food from those still in the north, and now with even more support from the U.S., they can do this with greater force and increased scope. 

To those who read these words, I ask if they make you feel as sick as they make me feel? And does this sickness compel you to act? And again I say, for those of us in the U.S., what is being done to the Palestinian people could not be happening without this country, without our taxes, our government, our institutions and businesses and media upholding this genocide, while also providing material support, political cover, and weapons of mass destruction. We bear responsibility, and we have a moral and human obligation to do all we can to end this. And we must also at the same time provide as much support as possible to those who are trying to survive. This is not charity. It is not us offering gifts. It is owed. It is the bare minimum of what we should be doing.

It is not an exaggeration for me to tell you that every single family is in more danger than they have ever been in before, and desperately needs all the support we can offer. We must do all we can. 

Connecting Gaza & Palestine to Bellingham: About ‘Eight Families in Gaza’

 

This video offers an overview to why and how I've been trying to connect my local community in Bellingham, Washington (in the United States), to Gaza, Palestine, through the sharing of in-person presentations developed in collaboration with eight families who I am personally close to who are in Gaza trying to survive the genocide. 

I have tried to do this through writing, speaking, tabling, and participating in other community events and both local and online organizing. This video explores these activities and connections, and also touches on the responsibility Americans have to do everything they can to end the genocide, while also doing everything we can to provide support to Palestinians who are trying to survive. 

It is intended to be the first video in a series still in development, and to be used as a way to expand the reach of the in-person programs, while also generating more awareness, action, and support.