"Hearing that we are officially verified brings a tear of hope to my eyes. Thank you @Morningstar and Radio Watermelon for being our voice when the world feels silent. 🍉💔
I am fighting every second for my baby children, Ayloul (4) and Yahya (1.5). No mother should watch her babies starve or suffer through displacement. We are holding on by a thread and urgently need your humanity.
Please, if you read this: DO NOT SCROLL BY. Even $1 or a single Retweet/Share can literally save my children's lives today. Please stand with us. 🙏😭"
🚨Low donations - Only $70 raised🚨
Newly #VerifiedByRadioWatermelon today
https://t.co/fbSy1Qj6Z8
Please donate and share
They Can’t Wait
Help Feed Gaza Today
Rozan Elmasry is 27, a mother of two young children, Ayloul, 4, and Yahya, 1½. She and her family have been displaced eight times since October 7, 2023, and are now living in a crowded classroom at an UNRWA school in Khan Younis. Soup kitchens are only available occasionally, and the family has not received an aid package in a long time. Rozan’s husband was a barber before the genocide, but his work and barbershop are gone, leaving the family with no income. Yahya needs milk and diapers, which cost around $150 a month, and both children have flat feet for which Rozan is trying to find appropriate treatment. She is also newly pregnant and will need medical follow-ups as her pregnancy progresses. During the siege, Rozan lost her brother, his wife, and their four children, as well as her husband’s brother-in-law. Despite these losses and the uncertainty of daily life, she is focused on keeping her children fed and cared for and hopes to eventually find enough stability for her family to live and work with dignity again.
"What is shown on screen as algorithms and law, we live every day with our real lives and memories. Thank you for looking at what happens here through a legal lens. Even when technology is used against us, our humanity remains untouched. Greetings from Gaza. 🕊️"
🎬 I watched #NAZA.
A chilling, dystopian documentary that I strongly recommend seeing in cinemas or watching when it becomes available online for free next month.
🧵A few thoughts on what this film tells us, from a legal perspective.👇
How can the frail thinness of a concrete wall possess such cruel power—to divide breath from silence, life from death? 💔
In that shelter, we mistook a brief pause for safety. Two weeks later, a strike ripped through the classroom directly next to ours. Nothing stood between us and total annihilation except the thickness of a single wall.
On our side of that terrifying divide, we survived—gasping for air through dust, terror, and total disbelief… my husband, my children, and I.
On the other side, my heart was torn in two. I lost my brother, his wife, their innocent children (Julia, Jafra, Bashir, and Mohammad), and my husband’s brother (Ibrahim).
In a fraction of a second, the wall remained standing, but half my soul was crushed beneath the rubble. Death passed so closely against our skin, carving names out of our lives while sparing our bodies.
Since that tragedy, whenever an explosion shakes the ground, I don't just fear the bomb—I see that cursed wall. I think about how fragile human flesh is, and how my 4-year-old Ayloul and my baby Yahya must now grow up learning to count the ghosts of those we loved.
We didn't truly survive. Survival here is merely a prolonged grief, living with a shattered heart that forever wanders through the debris.
Please, don't let our agony turn into mere numbers in the news. Don't let our story be forgotten. 🕊️
#Gaza #CeasefireNow #EyesOnGaza
How can the frail thinness of a concrete wall possess such cruel power—to divide breath from silence, life from death? 💔
In that shelter, we mistook a brief pause for safety. Two weeks later, a strike ripped through the classroom directly next to ours. Nothing stood between us and total annihilation except the thickness of a single wall.
On our side of that terrifying divide, we survived—gasping for air through dust, terror, and total disbelief… my husband, my children, and I.
On the other side, my heart was torn in two. I lost my brother, his wife, their innocent children (Julia, Jafra, Bashir, and Mohammad), and my husband’s brother (Ibrahim).
In a fraction of a second, the wall remained standing, but half my soul was crushed beneath the rubble. Death passed so closely against our skin, carving names out of our lives while sparing our bodies.
Since that tragedy, whenever an explosion shakes the ground, I don't just fear the bomb—I see that cursed wall. I think about how fragile human flesh is, and how my 4-year-old Ayloul and my baby Yahya must now grow up learning to count the ghosts of those we loved.
We didn't truly survive. Survival here is merely a prolonged grief, living with a shattered heart that forever wanders through the debris.
Please, don't let our agony turn into mere numbers in the news. Don't let our story be forgotten. 🕊️
#Gaza #CeasefireNow #EyesOnGaza
How can the frail thinness of a concrete wall possess such cruel power—to divide breath from silence, life from death? 💔
In that shelter, we mistook a brief pause for safety. Two weeks later, a strike ripped through the classroom directly next to ours. Nothing stood between us and total annihilation except the thickness of a single wall.
On our side of that terrifying divide, we survived—gasping for air through dust, terror, and total disbelief… my husband, my children, and I.
On the other side, my heart was torn in two. I lost my brother, his wife, their innocent children (Julia, Jafra, Bashir, and Mohammad), and my husband’s brother (Ibrahim).
In a fraction of a second, the wall remained standing, but half my soul was crushed beneath the rubble. Death passed so closely against our skin, carving names out of our lives while sparing our bodies.
Since that tragedy, whenever an explosion shakes the ground, I don't just fear the bomb—I see that cursed wall. I think about how fragile human flesh is, and how my 4-year-old Ayloul and my baby Yahya must now grow up learning to count the ghosts of those we loved.
We didn't truly survive. Survival here is merely a prolonged grief, living with a shattered heart that forever wanders through the debris.
Please, don't let our agony turn into mere numbers in the news. Don't let our story be forgotten. 🕊️
#Gaza #CeasefireNow #EyesOnGaza
@abierkhatib "Speaking from Gaza, where we are denied even the most basic human rights, you hit the nail on the head. Equality shouldn't be terrifying, but to those who oppress us, it is."
@lunalunabraga "Sending you love and gratitude from Gaza! Thank you for standing with us and speaking up for those in need. Please take care of yourself. ❤️
@birdontherock1 Thank you for helping people in Gaza. I’m a Palestinian mother of two, Ayloul and Yahya, currently displaced in Khan Younis. I’m also in need of support for my children and our basic needs. If you’re able to help, even a small donation would mean so much to us. 🤍
Thank you, Shabana, for stepping up and using your platform to support Yahya and our family. Your genuine solidarity and effort to amplify our voice mean more to us than words can express. Grateful for your kindness. 🙏❤️
Please donate to Rozan Elmasry's verified campaign to care for her two small kids. Yahya badly needs milk to survive and thrive but the campaign is very low.
https://t.co/57OqKvziVq
Writing this from a tent in Gaza, and this hits right in the heart. 💔🇵🇸
We learned that joy isn’t a luxury you wait for until the storm clears or the houses are rebuilt. Here, choosing to smile amidst the dust and ruins is our highest form of resilience.
We don’t have the luxury of a "perfect day." Life is happening right now—in a shared cup of warm tea, a child’s sudden laugh, or a moment of quiet under the canvas.
Joy doesn’t wait for peace to knock. It walks right into the chaos and sits beside us on the cold ground.
We deserve to feel alive. Today. Not tomorrow. ✨
📌 What is one small thing keeping your heart alive today?
#Gaza #Humanity #Resilience
Writing this from a tent in Gaza, and this hits right in the heart. 💔🇵🇸
We learned that joy isn’t a luxury you wait for until the storm clears or the houses are rebuilt. Here, choosing to smile amidst the dust and ruins is our highest form of resilience.
We don’t have the luxury of a "perfect day." Life is happening right now—in a shared cup of warm tea, a child’s sudden laugh, or a moment of quiet under the canvas.
Joy doesn’t wait for peace to knock. It walks right into the chaos and sits beside us on the cold ground.
We deserve to feel alive. Today. Not tomorrow. ✨
📌 What is one small thing keeping your heart alive today?
#Gaza #Humanity #Resilience
I deserve joy. Not later, when I’ve got my life together, because let’s be honest, that day is not on the calendar. I deserve it now, with the washing piled up and three things I still haven’t sorted out. Joy doesn’t wait at the door until the house is clean. It just walks in and sits on the couch with the dog.
Ayloul and Yahya are not numbers, and our story is not just another fundraiser.
They are my little girl and my baby boy — two children growing up in circumstances no child should have to know.
I’m asking you to help me give them a little safety, dignity, and hope. If you can’t donate, please share. One share can take our story further than I ever could alone.
Our fundraiser: https://t.co/KeKQHZFrPv
@rima_allaham123@gazafunds@Aileen Hiralal @Molly Shah
"Hearing that we are officially verified brings a tear of hope to my eyes. Thank you @Morningstar and Radio Watermelon for being our voice when the world feels silent. 🍉💔
I am fighting every second for my baby children, Ayloul (4) and Yahya (1.5). No mother should watch her babies starve or suffer through displacement. We are holding on by a thread and urgently need your humanity.
Please, if you read this: DO NOT SCROLL BY. Even $1 or a single Retweet/Share can literally save my children's lives today. Please stand with us. 🙏😭"
They count the dollars raised, but no one can count the quiet tears of a mother who only wants her children to survive."
After 8 displacements, losing loved ones, and living in a classroom in Khan Younis, my heart is heavy—not from despair, but from the daily fight to keep Ayloul and Yahya.
@CrankyReb@JoanneHorniman@academic_la
They count the dollars raised, but no one can count the quiet tears of a mother who only wants her children to survive."
After 8 displacements, losing loved ones, and living in a classroom in Khan Younis, my heart is heavy—not from despair, but from the daily fight to keep Ayloul and Yahya 💔🙏🙏
They count the dollars raised, but no one can count the quiet tears of a mother who only wants her children to survive."
After 8 displacements, losing loved ones, and living in a classroom in Khan Younis, my heart is heavy—not from despair, but from the daily fight to keep Ayloul and Yahya.
@CrankyReb@JoanneHorniman@academic_la
🚨Low donations - Only $70 raised🚨
Newly #VerifiedByRadioWatermelon today
https://t.co/65D4ZY2dC6
Please donate and share
They Can’t Wait
Help Feed Gaza Today
Rozan Elmasry is 27, a mother of two young children, Ayloul, 4, and Yahya, 1½. She and her family have been displaced eight times since October 7, 2023, and are now living in a crowded classroom at an UNRWA school in Khan Younis. Soup kitchens are only available occasionally, and the family has not received an aid package in a long time. Rozan’s husband was a barber before the genocide, but his work and barbershop are gone, leaving the family with no income. Yahya needs milk and diapers, which cost around $150 a month, and both children have flat feet for which Rozan is trying to find appropriate treatment. She is also newly pregnant and will need medical follow-ups as her pregnancy progresses. During the siege, Rozan lost her brother, his wife, and their four children, as well as her husband’s brother-in-law. Despite these losses and the uncertainty of daily life, she is focused on keeping her children fed and cared for and hopes to eventually find enough stability for her family to live and work with dignity again.
"The tide isn’t just turning; the mask has shattered. When solidarity becomes a daily posture rather than a temporary trend, empires lose their grip on the narrative. The Keffiyeh is no longer just cloth—it is the global flag of global conscience. From the river to the sea, freedom is inevitable. 🇵🇸🌿"
"The tide isn’t just turning; the mask has shattered. When solidarity becomes a daily posture rather than a temporary trend, empires lose their grip on the narrative. The Keffiyeh is no longer just cloth—it is the global flag of global conscience. From the river to the sea, freedom is inevitable. 🇵🇸🌿"