Imagine waking up each day not knowing if you or your loved ones will survive the next hour. This is the reality for thousands in Gaza right now.
I’m writing not just to inform, but to urge you to see, to feel, and to act. Behind every headline and statistic are real people—families, children, students—enduring violence, displacement, and unimaginable loss. This piece is a call for awareness, empathy, and solidarity with the people of Gaza. Their voices are being silenced, but ours don’t have to be.
Six hundred thirteen days.
That’s how long it’s been since October 7th.
Six hundred thirteen days since 1,200 Israeli civilians were killed.
But in those six hundred thirteen days, history has repeated itself—again.
From the Holocaust, to the Nakba, to the endless wars over the past twenty-eight thousand one hundred fifty-one days, the same cycle of suffering continues.
Twenty-eight thousand one hundred fifty-one days since Palestinians were driven from their homes.
Twenty-eight thousand one hundred fifty-one days since 750,000 people were forced to abandon their land, memories, and identities.
While you sit in your home—safe, with food, clean water, and your family nearby—
There is a child in Gaza who wakes up every day just trying to survive.
Trying to eat.
Trying to find clean water.
Trying to stay alive.
Crying over the loss of his parents, his siblings, his friends—yet too focused on survival to process the pain.
This child feels abandoned by the world.
He doesn’t understand how people can see what’s happening and stay silent.
And he’s not alone. His story is the story of thousands of children across Gaza.
So yes—six hundred thirteen days.
Six hundred thirteen days in which over 40,000 Palestinian children have lost one or both parents.
Six hundred thirteen days where the shattered bodies of children, women, and civilians fill every screen, every feed—yet so many scroll past.
Five hundred ninety-five days since a mother of ten lost nine of her children in a single attack.
Four hundred ninety-nine days since Hind Rami Iyad Rajab, a five-year-old girl, was shot 335 times by Israeli forces—treated not as a child, but as a threat.
Her innocence. Her laughter. Her life—stolen by hatred.
And still, the world watches.
Watches while children, mothers, and fathers—people who live the same lives as yours—are branded as terrorists.
But what was their crime?
What did they do to deserve this?
What makes them so dangerous?
Simply being Palestinian.
Six hundred thirteen days of ongoing genocide.
And twenty-eight thousand one hundred fifty-one days of Palestinians being dehumanized, displaced, and treated as if their lives don’t matter.
Published on June 11th, 2025