One year ago Israel killed 21 members of my family. This has driven me to speak louder for Palestinians.
Israel forces Palestinians to re-live the trauma of losing their homes, when they must use their contents as firewood.
For many, the attack on Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital left both the living and the dead beyond recognition.
Surviving the genocide in Gaza is the only life my child knows. I fight every day to keep him alive.
I’ve lost 60 family members in the last year, and I struggle to process how quickly everything has changed.
Thousands of students want the war to end so they can resume studies and work toward dreams that have been derailed.
The work of first responders is especially dangerous in the Gaza Strip because Israel breaks the rules of warfare.
Makeshift medical hubs are insufficient to treat everyone with an injury, chronic condition, disease, or other ailment.
Faith and imagination are the winged creatures that keep hope alive in these dark times.
The children of Gaza are not characters in “The Hunger Games” and this war is not intended to amuse you.
A cup of coffee stimulates recollections of a time now gone: college days and wonderful afternoons with a dear friend.
A mother’s efforts to obtain treatment for her daughter’s serious health problems are hindered by Israel’s war on Gaza.
