A ban on NGOs operating in Gaza would deal a devastating blow to the already fragile humanitarian situation. As I sit down to write these words, my thoughts are with the countless families whose homes have been reduced to rubble, whose children lie orphaned and whose loved ones have been taken from them by the relentless Israeli onslaught.
For decades, international organizations such as the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) have provided vital support to those living in Gaza. We've worked tirelessly to provide food, shelter, sanitation, education, and healthcare – often under conditions that would be unimaginable in any other part of the world. The statistics are staggering: over a million meals provided, countless hygiene kits distributed, and scores of medical supplies delivered.
But despite our best efforts, Israel's policies have consistently sought to silence independent voices, dismantle infrastructure, and systematically erase the identity of this land. It's a genocidal campaign that has left Gaza on the brink of collapse. The numbers are stark: over 420 Palestinians killed since October, with many more injured; tens of thousands of tents destroyed by floods; hospitals struggling to access basic medical supplies; and families left without access to life-saving healthcare.
The personal toll is impossible to bear witness to. I've lost count of the number of times I've spoken to grieving parents whose children have been killed in these relentless attacks. The weight of responsibility, once a burden we shouldered with hope and resilience, now feels crushing.
As one of those responsible for supporting this besieged people, it's hard not to feel complicit in their suffering. How can we turn a blind eye when atrocities are committed before our very eyes? Can we truly claim to be humanity's champions if we fail to act?
For me, the tragedy is that responsibility does not diminish with each passing day; rather, it grows heavier. I remember the words of my friend and fellow Gazan, Refaat Alareer, who gave his life as a poet and storyteller in the face of oppression. His poem "If I Must Die" has become an anthem for this struggle – a testament to love's indomitable power even in the face of death.
We can continue to speak out against these injustices; we must do so, louder still. We will not let Israel silence our voices or extinguish the flames of hope that burn within us all. Gaza may be under siege, but its people are not. They are rising – their spirits unbroken, their love for this land indomitable.
Make no mistake: this is not just a struggle for justice; it's a fight to reclaim human dignity in the face of unimaginable cruelty. But even as I write these words, I know that we will not be silenced. We will not falter. Gaza will rise again – from the ashes of destruction, reborn with every step forward.
For decades, international organizations such as the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) have provided vital support to those living in Gaza. We've worked tirelessly to provide food, shelter, sanitation, education, and healthcare – often under conditions that would be unimaginable in any other part of the world. The statistics are staggering: over a million meals provided, countless hygiene kits distributed, and scores of medical supplies delivered.
But despite our best efforts, Israel's policies have consistently sought to silence independent voices, dismantle infrastructure, and systematically erase the identity of this land. It's a genocidal campaign that has left Gaza on the brink of collapse. The numbers are stark: over 420 Palestinians killed since October, with many more injured; tens of thousands of tents destroyed by floods; hospitals struggling to access basic medical supplies; and families left without access to life-saving healthcare.
The personal toll is impossible to bear witness to. I've lost count of the number of times I've spoken to grieving parents whose children have been killed in these relentless attacks. The weight of responsibility, once a burden we shouldered with hope and resilience, now feels crushing.
As one of those responsible for supporting this besieged people, it's hard not to feel complicit in their suffering. How can we turn a blind eye when atrocities are committed before our very eyes? Can we truly claim to be humanity's champions if we fail to act?
For me, the tragedy is that responsibility does not diminish with each passing day; rather, it grows heavier. I remember the words of my friend and fellow Gazan, Refaat Alareer, who gave his life as a poet and storyteller in the face of oppression. His poem "If I Must Die" has become an anthem for this struggle – a testament to love's indomitable power even in the face of death.
We can continue to speak out against these injustices; we must do so, louder still. We will not let Israel silence our voices or extinguish the flames of hope that burn within us all. Gaza may be under siege, but its people are not. They are rising – their spirits unbroken, their love for this land indomitable.
Make no mistake: this is not just a struggle for justice; it's a fight to reclaim human dignity in the face of unimaginable cruelty. But even as I write these words, I know that we will not be silenced. We will not falter. Gaza will rise again – from the ashes of destruction, reborn with every step forward.