I have to say something.
Everywhere, it’s a norm to teach children how to use the microwave and how to count their money — how many cents equal a dollar. My friend’s paternal family are in Gaza. She went to visit them a few years ago. When she came back, she told us about things she did with her cousins. Her aunts and uncles and her grandmother. It was the normal things you do with your relatives, you know? Except for the part where they drop to the ground when hearing an explosion nearby. They do it like it’s as natural as breathing, like it’s an everyday routine. It’s so casual, nothing new, to watch the house right next to yours being blown into pieces. Children in Palestine know the right position to be in during a nearby bombarding. And it’s not just that your house can cave in on you while having lunch that’s a norm. It’s a norm for a couple of Israeli soldiers to get into your house, take all your belongings, hit you in the head with the butts of their guns, and leave like they’re walking out a restaurant. It’s a norm to leave your house and never come back. Men and women and children in Palestine live in homes that can’t shelter them. But do they live in fear? No, they don’t. And that’s sickening. Why? Because being blown to pieces while walking on the pavement is as natural there as being approached by a mosquito. Your child is going to school, but they might never come back. Your husband’s going to work so he could afford dinner for you, but he might never come back. And you’ll have to suck it up and be okay with it and move on, because it’s a norm, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And there’s no one to care and no one to help you. It’s disgusting how even here in the rest of the Middle East, people are gathered in coffee shops watching Argentina vs Netherlands and ignoring what’s happening to their brothers and sisters in Gaza and the cities near Gaza. I see a lot of things. I see beautiful posts about acts of kindness, with hundreds of thousands of notes. I see a lot of things on Tumblr that make me feel like my faith in humanity isn’t a stupid thing I convince myself with for comfort. But look at this post. It’s about my relatives and my friends’ families and strangers who are dying in their own homes for absolutely no reason. It’s about children and young people having their lives taken and loved ones taken. It’s about a people who never knew peace, who get accused of terrorism and awful actions when in fact they’re walking in a world where wolves are out to get them and no hunters care to look their way, to offer a helping hand. I know you won’t reblog this post. But why? Please tell me why. Why are the lives of these people — not only the ones lost, but the ones existing in suffering — less important than the world cup or Dean in gym shorts? Why are you scrolling past this?