Dear everyone outside Gaza, reading or hearing my words,
My name is Abdallah Aljazzar. I live in Rafah, in Gaza, Palestine, along the border with Egypt.
War is raging around me, and I may be gone by the time these words reach you. But I hope that someone, somewhere, really listens.
I implore you not to hastily pass judgment on what is unfolding.
On Saturday, October 7, 2023, the media filled with news of the victims in Israel after the surprise attack by Hamas forces. “How could they be so barbaric?” you asked. The sympathy was palpable. And I understand it.
However, that evening, when Israel unleashed its own assault on us, far exceeding the barbarism and repeating what it has done to us so many times before, the world framed it as acceptable self-defense. The bombing of hospitals, universities and residential towers: all self-defense. Your sympathy and outrage are selective, and the inconsistency in your stance is not lost on us.
That evening, I was sitting in my living room in Rafah’s Al Jinina neighborhood when I received the news that my area had been marked as an Israeli target. With mixed feelings of hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as we knew it could be and the despair born of premonition, I joined my relatives on the street. Coffee and a smoke in hand, my face pale, I walked to a friend’s house, where a group of men were gathered, declaring they we would not leave. I too resolved that I would not leave my house, my neighbors, my relatives. I would stand for my Palestine and, if necessary, die with dignity. Some sources suggest that Israel may attempt to forcibly displace us to the Sinai Peninsula. But I say “no” emphatically. I choose to die here!
At the same time, at a different location, my uncle was evacuating his home to seek refuge at my grandma’s house.
We watch the news whenever we have electricity. Hamas, Netanyahu, Biden—that’s all the world talks about. But we have been under attack since 1948. Time and time again, we resisted by simply surviving. Our existence is resistance. Israel understands this all too well. To end our resistance, they believe they must end our existence. The polite term for this is “ethnic cleansing.”
As the world, once again, stands by, I wonder, “Who, among the peoples of the world, truly comprehends the Palestinian plight?” We witness our own repeated destruction, endure ghettos and pogroms, and still find no one to advocate for us, no one to defend us, no one to say “No.” Among those who should understand this suffering best are the Jewish people. But somehow, it seems some have forgotten the lessons of history. “Never Again” is not just a historical lesson; it is an urgent reminder to act.
The Quran and the Bible remind us that those who show no mercy shall receive none. So, we will continue to exist, even when you cut off our food and water, even when your aircraft carriers lurk off our shores, attempting “gunship diplomacy” as a modern approach to peace. China might recognize it, but we, the people of Gaza, do not. We will have children, and they will have children, and they will remember the events of October 7, this week, this month, this year. What will be their memory of these days? Will they remember you, America, as a champion of justice and fairness? Or will they recall feelings of betrayal and abandonment, fueling uprisings in 2028, 2032, and 2036 because your government and Israel chose to ignore the facts? We will still be here. We have seen off the Greeks, the Romans, the French, the Ottomans, and the Egyptians. We will also see off the Zionist colonial project. Did you know that “Gaza” means “fortress”?
Palestinians have endured 73 years of ethnic cleansing and 54 years of military occupation. The question we must all consider is: How many more Palestinians must die before this changes?
In this often-cruel world, may you never find yourself in a situation where you must rely on another’s sense of humanity to save your own life and the lives of your family.
Yours for peace,
Abdallah Aljazzar
Editor’s Note: Abdallah al-Jazzar wrote this from a house with no power and in which at least 40 people were sheltering. He wrote this on his phone. He originally prepared the essay for a colleague to read on his behalf at a solidarity rally over the weekend of Oct. 14. He wanted to send photographs to accompany the publication of the essay, but the Internet in Gaza was too frail for him to do so.