My friend Iyad says, “so far, I’m a genocide survivor. Everyone living in Gaza is on the waiting list. And every day that passes, I consider myself lucky. Now, a year later, I have no idea how we have survived this genocide. But who knows what will happen tomorrow?”
After a year of this, writing about what’s going on in Palestine is something that has become very difficult for me. We have already used all the words, written all the descriptions–the same news, the same words, day after day. And this is even more true for the people of Gaza. Death comes all the time in different forms, and it depends on a military officer of the occupation army to choose which family member will be erased. Whole extended families are slaughtered. Each day there are massacres committed—massacre after massacre in hospitals, shelters, clinics, tents, streets, and schools. They have all been bombed. People are killed while seeking polio vaccines.
Mass starvation is used as a weapon in this genocide. Hundreds of shipments of food are lined up just a few miles from the people who are starving. Most medicine and food are barred from entering. There is a dire lack of water. Disease spreads everywhere.
As we go to press with this newsletter, massacres are not only continuing in Gaza, but they have expanded to Lebanon. Shocking acts of Israeli state terrorism have been launched against civilians in Lebanon followed by intense bombing campaigns in populated areas, while the US media largely celebrates the carnage and blames the victims.
There are not enough words to describe what’s happening. Not enough space to tell all the stories. In Gaza, all the feelings have been felt, time after time. Anger. Devastation. Tears. Rage. And yet still, while they are bleeding, the people of Gaza have pride, dignity, steadfastness, and resilience.
We cannot express enough how fortunate MECA is to have our staff on the ground. We are grateful to have people to do the work. More than that, we are grateful for the particular staff people who bring their spirit, their sumoud, to everything they do every day. We cannot ask our staff to stay in the most hard-hit areas, to put themselves in danger in the worst moments. We want to protect them and their families. We are continually humbled to find that despite our efforts to prioritize their safety, each one of our staff on the ground has made their own decision to continue their work while their lives could be stamped out any day, any hour, any minute. But every time they tell us, ‘We need to continue to do the work. This is what gives value to our lives. If something bad happens to us, we would rather it be while we are supporting our communities, rather than waiting for the bombs to hit us.’
When I speak about Gaza, I have to force words from my mouth. It doesn’t mean we are hopeless. It means talking or writing becomes a difficult task, not just for me but for most of us witnessing this genocide. I need to search for the words that will impact people to take action again and again for as long as it takes.. What Gaza needs from us is more strategic action to put enough pressure on the US government to stop this genocide. To put enough pressure on corporations to stop producing weapons and technology for Israel. To keep providing food and clothes and medical supplies to keep Gaza alive. To expand our solidarity and continue supporting their steadfastness to survive in dignity.
And to keep their dreams of a free Palestine in our hearts every minute of every day.