Those who are being starved, whose rights to freedom and safety have been stolen, who are under the constant threat of violent attacks, should not also have to fundraise for their very survival.
And we who are not experiencing this, we who reside in relative safety, especially those of us in the countries responsible for sending the weapons and the bombs that fuel this genocide, bear the responsibility to do all we can every day to support the people who are trying to survive. While also doing all we can in every moment to end this violence.
This is the most urgent thing. There are also other important things that we can be doing along side this. But this is the most urgent thing. Because conditions are dire. They surpassed being in a crisis state of emergency long, long ago.
This is the most urgent thing. There are also other important things that we can be doing along side this. But this is the most urgent thing. Because conditions are dire. They surpassed being in a crisis state of emergency long, long ago.
Today I went to a meeting in my community, to try and connect with others who are trying to find more ways to end the genocide, to support Palestine and justice for Palestine. I was heartened to see how many people were there, and I hope to build on some of those connections. But my main goal for attending was to try and get more support for some of the fundraisers for Palestinians that I have been donating to and promoting.
I have a good friend in Gaza who messages me throughout the day, every day, who always checks on me and also lets me know how he is doing. He is very important to me. Every time I hear from him, I experience relief in knowing he is ok. Except that he isn't really ok. Because nothing is ok. And no one in Gaza is ok.
By "ok" I guess what I mean is he is still alive. He is ok enough to still be here. And to be "here" is to be sick with no medicine and no safety. To be traumatized over and over again. To be in constant mourning but not having any chance to grieve. To be hungry, exhausted, cold, and in constant danger. To know you must keep moving even if you have no break, no chance to rest, nothing to replenish you. To know the next day will bring more loss and danger. All while trying to hang on, trying to be there for your family who are still "here" too.
Every night is dangerous. Today was very very bad. How each day that passes can somehow be worse than the previous day defies comprehension.
Today's last message from my friend has made me worry about him more than I have ever worried before. And so tonight, like many others, (other people, other nights), I know I will not sleep. I will light my candle and say more prayers. I will hold those who are in danger close to my heart. And I will feel like I cannot breathe.
And I will keep checking my phone for that message from my friend, the message where he lets me know he is ok. And I will go to the pages of so many Palestinians who I have also come to know and care about, to see what they are sharing with us, to make sure they are still here. And I will also think about the people I have not yet met. The ones who are also struggling, who I do not yet know personally. The ones who may be unable to share their messages online with this unworthy world, but who matter just the same.
Each passing second hurts, pierces like a knife. We do not have the luxury of time. We are losing more and more each day. We must do everything to end this, and everything to try to support the people trying to survive this. In our every day lives. In our immediate environments. In every space we are in and all that we do. I say this for myself as much as anyone. For this is the most urgent thing.
--January 11, 2025