Imagine waking up every morning not to the sound of birds or an alarm clock, but to the echo of drones buzzing above your home. Imagine looking into your child’s eyes, knowing you can’t promise them safety. Imagine being 10 years old and already knowing what a missile sounds like before it hits.
This is life in Palestine.
For generations, Palestinians have lived under occupation, control, and fear. They’re not statistics. They’re not political talking points. They’re people;mothers who kiss their children goodbye not knowing if they’ll come home, students who study by candlelight during blackouts, fathers who dig through rubble with their bare hands searching for family members.
A People Displaced, Again and Again
It started decades ago with the Nakba;the catastrophe,when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were driven from their homes in 1948. Many thought they’d return in days. Instead, their villages were erased, and their families scattered across refugee camps in Gaza, the West Bank, Lebanon, and beyond.
Today, their children and grandchildren still live in limbo;stateless, voiceless, and often hopeless. The right to return is still denied. And with every year, new walls are built;literal and psychological.
Gaza: An Open-Air Prison
Gaza is one of the most densely populated places on Earth. Two million people;half of them children;are trapped by land, sea, and air. Israel’s blockade, in place since 2007, means there’s almost no freedom of movement, barely enough electricity to run hospitals, and little clean water to drink.
And then come the bombs.
When Israel launches its military operations, entire neighborhoods vanish in seconds. The explosions don’t distinguish between a militant and a child sleeping in their bed. Parents write their children’s names on their legs so they can be identified if a bomb hits. That is the level of fear people live with.
Grief Without End
it’s not just the dead. It’s the living who carry the weight.
The father who holds the body of his daughter wrapped in a blood-soaked blanket. The girl who lost her entire family in a single night. The boy who no longer speaks. Trauma hangs in the air like dust after a blast;everywhere, inescapable.
And yet, the world scrolls past.
Is This Genocide?
When people are bombed while fleeing, starved by siege, denied medical care, and dehumanized in rhetoric,what else do we call it? This isn’t just war. It’s erased. Not just of buildings, but of identity, of memory, of a future.
International law exists for a reason. But who enforces it when it’s Palestinians who suffer?
Justice Isn’t One-Sided
Calling for a free Palestine isn’t about hating anyone. It’s not about wiping out Israel or denying Jewish suffering. It’s about saying: “You can’t keep doing this to people and expect silence.” It’s about demanding that Palestinians have the same rights, dreams, and protection as anyone else.
It’s about a child in Rafah mattering as much as a child in Tel Aviv.
Free Palestine Means…
It means letting people live without checkpoints controlling every move.
It means ending the demolition of homes, the taking of land, the daily humiliation.
It means Palestinians having passports, not permits. Water, not tear gas. Hope, not despair.
It means recognizing their humanity. Seeing their grief. Hearing their stories. And not turning away.
Because they bleed like us. They laugh like us. They love us like we do.
Free Palestine,because being born in Gaza shouldn’t be a death sentence.
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