Thank you for your voice, Noha. There really are no words. But every time you manage to find them anyway, you inspire others to keep looking with you. At least I know that's the case for me. And I think narrative is what will finally break through and bring justice. I just wish words were more immediate and could shield and protect these children (and the women AND men.) I don't understand this world.
I am so tired Alicia. So out of words. And then I look at Dr. Ezzideen and I think how can I possibly be tired and out of words when he is enduring the unendurable, day and day out, on an empty stomach, in manmade famine conditions, and still writing searing, moving, meaningful words.
I think his words (and the words of Refaat Al-areer, and the words of Mosab Abu-Toha, and so many more) will be looked to decades from now the way we look to Anne Frank's diary. They are a light for us to follow.
I agree with you that narrative may be what finally breaks through. Somewhere on Notes a few weeks ago I read a writing tip that said something like "the bigger the subject, the smaller you start" - and I think this is what Dr. Ezzideen did here with the story of that poor little girl and her mother. Now I have to go cry because every time I think about them I want to cry.
I agree completely. I also keep going back to Omar El-Akkad's "One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This." So many passages in there that felt like a balm.
I don't know that I've ever actually cried so much watching "the news."
I've started writing from my own small corner of knowledge, as it relates to how the French acted very similarly in Algeria and we're watching the same colonial logic and destruction. I got a comment this morning from a man essentially telling me I'm more fun when I stay in my lane. For a brief second I thought about giving up, and then I thought about how many people have been screaming into the void and been met with silence for decades, and here we are.
Michael, I was thinking about your piece about how to write and think about violence as I wrote the few words I put here before linking to the video. The concept of semantic satiety comes to mind. Not in the silly way I've seen it mentioned on shows like Ted Lasso but in the very real way that words cease to hold all meaning when they are repeated again and again. I think of it as the literary equivalent of the normalization of the actual violence that is happening.
I think I read something by Ahmed Shihab-Eldin that said nothing we say can stop it, but for our own sanity and to stop the moral rot from our souls, we still have to speak out. And I agree with that. It makes the deafening silence easier to stomach (or not stomach, because I can't stomach any of this. But to cope with).
Thank you for continuing to look, Kim. I feel grim in the face of it all. But turning away feels even more hollow. We shouldn't even do it for them, we should do it for our own humanity.
I truly don't know. For the most part, human beings are, sadly, whatever they are conditioned to be. We have the capacity to be cruel and violent, and we have the capacity to be loving and preserving, and it really is about practicing and building each muscle.
I do wonder sometimes though, when I look at pictures or videos that make me sick to my stomach. How do the aggressors physically make themselves commit these heinous acts? Anger and hate can drive a person to daydream about violence, sure, but to actually commit it? It's stomach turning...
They say that people who commit these acts often commit suicide in the future, particularly when they fall in love. They can't live with the person they've become who have committed these horrible acts.
I did read a story on CNN (I think last summer) of the man who was a bulldozer driver in Gaza - perhaps even the one responsible for that atrocious murder - you remember the infamous picture of a person run over a bulldozer? I think he gave testimony in the knesset and then a few weeks later, I think he did commit suicide. Just thinking about that picture makes me want to vomit.
I wish there were preventative measures in place to stop these crimes in the first place. Every day I open the news hoping there's a ceasefire. But all I see is atrocity after atrocity. I stare at my phone and I just don't know how to react anymore.
The poem by Doctor Sheehan. Just wow. It feels wrong so wrong to talk or write about anything else. Been listening to Democracy NOW everyday and the headlines about how many people dying everyday is just heartbreaking.
Thank you for sharing this piece. I don't know if I would have stumbled across this story otherwise. And now I am horrified all over again at what the citizens of Gaza are being put through. And yet we have a government who welcomes 'brave' white South Afrikaaners who are fleeing 'genocide' and I don't understand the cognitive distortions and contortions that must be undergone to see their situation as genocide while acting with utter inhumanity regarding Gaza. I seem to say 'I don't understand' a lot these days, but it's true. Are large swathes of people completely lacking in the ability to feel empathy? Is it a case of 'out of sight, out of mind?'
It's like the Trump Administration -- you write and write and share and not only does nothing change, it only seems to get worse and, like you say, words lose meaning.
It's super depressing. It feels meaningless, but I keep reminding myself that at this stage, I'm not even doing it to change anything. I'm doing it so I can live with myself.
Even these words matter. I am tired. I have nothing more to say. My heart is breaking. The world feels like it is abandoning us. It is up to us to remind one another that there are people who still care. Who are seeing and hearing and feeling. That humans are experiencing pain and the pain of others with full, open hearts. I need to read these words. Even just a reminder to spread love and pray. So thank you.
On Thursday morning, I saw Renad had posted a video in which she wrote, “My cheeks are gone but I am still beautiful.” I understood only when she showed what she looked like before the famine and what she looks like now. I still don’t know what to say or do. [I assume we all know who Renad is.]
I find myself thinking of the shooting at the elementary school in Newtown, CT, USA in December 2012, and how some senators still feared the wrath of the National Rifle Association. Only after another shooting ten years later in Uvalde, Texas, USA did enough senators take action. It probably helped that Wayne LaPierre had previously exposed himself as a hypocrite.
I also remember what Rami Elhanan said — that a lot of people in Israel have no idea what it means to live under an occupation. [He was cited in Apeirogon (published in 2011) by Callum McCann.] I wonder how many in Israel know what’s happening now.
This is so tragic. Together with all the other atrocities that the occupiers inflict on Palestine, I hadn’t even thought about the effects on pregnant mothers and children. I know it sounds empty now, but all of us in the world are watching. The evil that has been done to you will not remain unpunished.
Thank you for writing this from your heart.
Thank you for witnessing with me, Rona. Though my words are poor and insufficient.
Thank you for your voice, Noha. There really are no words. But every time you manage to find them anyway, you inspire others to keep looking with you. At least I know that's the case for me. And I think narrative is what will finally break through and bring justice. I just wish words were more immediate and could shield and protect these children (and the women AND men.) I don't understand this world.
I am so tired Alicia. So out of words. And then I look at Dr. Ezzideen and I think how can I possibly be tired and out of words when he is enduring the unendurable, day and day out, on an empty stomach, in manmade famine conditions, and still writing searing, moving, meaningful words.
I think his words (and the words of Refaat Al-areer, and the words of Mosab Abu-Toha, and so many more) will be looked to decades from now the way we look to Anne Frank's diary. They are a light for us to follow.
I agree with you that narrative may be what finally breaks through. Somewhere on Notes a few weeks ago I read a writing tip that said something like "the bigger the subject, the smaller you start" - and I think this is what Dr. Ezzideen did here with the story of that poor little girl and her mother. Now I have to go cry because every time I think about them I want to cry.
I agree completely. I also keep going back to Omar El-Akkad's "One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This." So many passages in there that felt like a balm.
I don't know that I've ever actually cried so much watching "the news."
I've started writing from my own small corner of knowledge, as it relates to how the French acted very similarly in Algeria and we're watching the same colonial logic and destruction. I got a comment this morning from a man essentially telling me I'm more fun when I stay in my lane. For a brief second I thought about giving up, and then I thought about how many people have been screaming into the void and been met with silence for decades, and here we are.
"what is there left to say" encompasses so much how I feel. yes. dear one.
I am embarrassed and ashamed to be part of a world that allows this to continue…
Noha, I'm thankful as always that you continue to speak up against this genocide. Thank you for continuing to write about it <3
Michael, I was thinking about your piece about how to write and think about violence as I wrote the few words I put here before linking to the video. The concept of semantic satiety comes to mind. Not in the silly way I've seen it mentioned on shows like Ted Lasso but in the very real way that words cease to hold all meaning when they are repeated again and again. I think of it as the literary equivalent of the normalization of the actual violence that is happening.
I think I read something by Ahmed Shihab-Eldin that said nothing we say can stop it, but for our own sanity and to stop the moral rot from our souls, we still have to speak out. And I agree with that. It makes the deafening silence easier to stomach (or not stomach, because I can't stomach any of this. But to cope with).
My heart is broken over and over by the evil in this world. But we must not turn away from thank you for asking us to keep our eyes open, Noha.
Thank you for continuing to look, Kim. I feel grim in the face of it all. But turning away feels even more hollow. We shouldn't even do it for them, we should do it for our own humanity.
Where does the capacity for so much cruelty and violence come from? Even though it's hard, Noha, I appreciate the words you share.🙏🏼
I truly don't know. For the most part, human beings are, sadly, whatever they are conditioned to be. We have the capacity to be cruel and violent, and we have the capacity to be loving and preserving, and it really is about practicing and building each muscle.
I do wonder sometimes though, when I look at pictures or videos that make me sick to my stomach. How do the aggressors physically make themselves commit these heinous acts? Anger and hate can drive a person to daydream about violence, sure, but to actually commit it? It's stomach turning...
They say that people who commit these acts often commit suicide in the future, particularly when they fall in love. They can't live with the person they've become who have committed these horrible acts.
I did read a story on CNN (I think last summer) of the man who was a bulldozer driver in Gaza - perhaps even the one responsible for that atrocious murder - you remember the infamous picture of a person run over a bulldozer? I think he gave testimony in the knesset and then a few weeks later, I think he did commit suicide. Just thinking about that picture makes me want to vomit.
I read somewhere that suicide is very common for people who have committed atrocities.
I wish there were preventative measures in place to stop these crimes in the first place. Every day I open the news hoping there's a ceasefire. But all I see is atrocity after atrocity. I stare at my phone and I just don't know how to react anymore.
The poem by Doctor Sheehan. Just wow. It feels wrong so wrong to talk or write about anything else. Been listening to Democracy NOW everyday and the headlines about how many people dying everyday is just heartbreaking.
Thank you for writing this and sharing. Thank you for your tender, steady heart.
Thank you for sharing this piece. I don't know if I would have stumbled across this story otherwise. And now I am horrified all over again at what the citizens of Gaza are being put through. And yet we have a government who welcomes 'brave' white South Afrikaaners who are fleeing 'genocide' and I don't understand the cognitive distortions and contortions that must be undergone to see their situation as genocide while acting with utter inhumanity regarding Gaza. I seem to say 'I don't understand' a lot these days, but it's true. Are large swathes of people completely lacking in the ability to feel empathy? Is it a case of 'out of sight, out of mind?'
It's like the Trump Administration -- you write and write and share and not only does nothing change, it only seems to get worse and, like you say, words lose meaning.
It's super depressing. It feels meaningless, but I keep reminding myself that at this stage, I'm not even doing it to change anything. I'm doing it so I can live with myself.
Even these words matter. I am tired. I have nothing more to say. My heart is breaking. The world feels like it is abandoning us. It is up to us to remind one another that there are people who still care. Who are seeing and hearing and feeling. That humans are experiencing pain and the pain of others with full, open hearts. I need to read these words. Even just a reminder to spread love and pray. So thank you.
On Thursday morning, I saw Renad had posted a video in which she wrote, “My cheeks are gone but I am still beautiful.” I understood only when she showed what she looked like before the famine and what she looks like now. I still don’t know what to say or do. [I assume we all know who Renad is.]
I find myself thinking of the shooting at the elementary school in Newtown, CT, USA in December 2012, and how some senators still feared the wrath of the National Rifle Association. Only after another shooting ten years later in Uvalde, Texas, USA did enough senators take action. It probably helped that Wayne LaPierre had previously exposed himself as a hypocrite.
I also remember what Rami Elhanan said — that a lot of people in Israel have no idea what it means to live under an occupation. [He was cited in Apeirogon (published in 2011) by Callum McCann.] I wonder how many in Israel know what’s happening now.
I’m trying to understand why people are silent.
This is so tragic. Together with all the other atrocities that the occupiers inflict on Palestine, I hadn’t even thought about the effects on pregnant mothers and children. I know it sounds empty now, but all of us in the world are watching. The evil that has been done to you will not remain unpunished.