Everyone who has been saying they want to help Gaza and support its people needs to do more than just talk. Sharing this campaign is the bare minimum. Gaza is heading into another winter, and people are still living in tents, exposed to the rain and cold.
If you mean it when you say you stand with Gaza, prove it. Share this campaign. Help us reach people. Do something before the rain comes.
https://t.co/SIa3IGwaAD
A Palestinian girl cries with a baby in her arms amid rain as Palestinians, whose homes were destroyed during Israel's two-year attacks, have hard times after their makeshift tents were flooded with the intense rain in Gaza City, Gaza on November 14, 2025.
Hossam and Anas should’ve been announcing the end of genocide ,celebrating the end of bloodshed. Instead, they gave their lives so the world could see the truth.
Your courage, sacrifice, and voices will never be forgotten , the world is forever grateful for your truth. 🕊️
Walking in the streets of deir el balah is heartbreaking ..
People homeless .. children lined waiting for a water truck .. others holding pots looking for a community kitchen ..
rage everywhere
the bare minimum: 1) calling genocide by its name, 2) having an explicitly anti-zionist public stance, and 3) always naming zionism as both the perpetrator and the root cause of the genocide. anything less than that is cowardly and ahistorical.
You know, the killing is so relentless that you almost get used to it. A classroom of children killed every single day. You write about it, you read about it. Someone’s mother digs herself up from the rubble. Someone’s father is split in half. There was a video of wounded man using his arms to crawl across the road. Another man is so hungry he weeps. You read the stories. Each one is more brutal than the next and somehow the brutality is banal. You are numb, for better or for worse. But there are moments in the day, maybe just a singular moment, when you actually contend with the magnitude of the tragedy, when you are able to quantify the loss and in those moments you feel crushed—there are no adjectives. There are people mourning their lovers. Students missing their teachers. Orphans. Widowers. Grandmothers who look just like your own. I cry when I think about the people who were martyred just hours before they could apologize for something, or confess to something, or have something to eat. Or the slain who believed they would survive. And as the rancid rotten people of the world pontificate and debate the definition of genocide, you are at war with yourself, trying desperately to ignore the material meaning of the word. You read the news and you read the news and it is so hard to accept that the dead, the thousands of people they are slaughtering, they are your loved ones and your loved ones’ loved ones. This isn’t just a bad dream.
Most of you have probably never seen a quadcopter this close, except the people in Gaza.
Pause the video for a moment and look at what it’s carrying: explosives. These are used to kill.
This might be the clearest view we’ve ever had of one.
Are you satisfied with how the people of Gaza are forced to document their own genocide?
This is my will and my final message. If these words reach you, know that Israel has succeeded in killing me and silencing my voice. First, peace be upon you and Allah’s mercy and blessings.
Allah knows I gave every effort and all my strength to be a support and a voice for my people, ever since I opened my eyes to life in the alleys and streets of the Jabalia refugee camp. My hope was that Allah would extend my life so I could return with my family and loved ones to our original town of occupied Asqalan (Al-Majdal). But Allah’s will came first, and His decree is final. I have lived through pain in all its details, tasted suffering and loss many times, yet I never once hesitated to convey the truth as it is, without distortion or falsification—so that Allah may bear witness against those who stayed silent, those who accepted our killing, those who choked our breath, and whose hearts were unmoved by the scattered remains of our children and women, doing nothing to stop the massacre that our people have faced for more than a year and a half.
I entrust you with Palestine—the jewel in the crown of the Muslim world, the heartbeat of every free person in this world. I entrust you with its people, with its wronged and innocent children who never had the time to dream or live in safety and peace. Their pure bodies were crushed under thousands of tons of Israeli bombs and missiles, torn apart and scattered across the walls.
I urge you not to let chains silence you, nor borders restrain you. Be bridges toward the liberation of the land and its people, until the sun of dignity and freedom rises over our stolen homeland. I entrust you to take care of my family. I entrust you with my beloved daughter Sham, the light of my eyes, whom I never got the chance to watch grow up as I had dreamed.
I entrust you with my dear son Salah, whom I had wished to support and accompany through life until he grew strong enough to carry my burden and continue the mission.
I entrust you with my beloved mother, whose blessed prayers brought me to where I am, whose supplications were my fortress and whose light guided my path. I pray that Allah grants her strength and rewards her on my behalf with the best of rewards.
I also entrust you with my lifelong companion, my beloved wife, Umm Salah (Bayan), from whom the war separated me for many long days and months. Yet she remained faithful to our bond, steadfast as the trunk of an olive tree that does not bend—patient, trusting in Allah, and carrying the responsibility in my absence with all her strength and faith.
I urge you to stand by them, to be their support after Allah Almighty. If I die, I die steadfast upon my principles. I testify before Allah that I am content with His decree, certain of meeting Him, and assured that what is with Allah is better and everlasting.
O Allah, accept me among the martyrs, forgive my past and future sins, and make my blood a light that illuminates the path of freedom for my people and my family. Forgive me if I have fallen short, and pray for me with mercy, for I kept my promise and never changed or betrayed it.
Do not forget Gaza… And do not forget me in your sincere prayers for forgiveness and acceptance.
Anas Jamal Al-Sharif
06.04.2025
This is what our beloved Anas requested to be published upon his martyrdom.
Every day, I feel like I’m dehumanizing my own people when I share videos and photos of them—burnt beyond recognition, their bodies torn apart, collected in pieces or halves, beheaded, limbless. I expose them in their most brutal, undignified moments, hoping the world will finally be moved to act. But it never has. And it feels like it never will—not in our lifetime.
To my friends, neighbors, students, and even the strangers I never met—whose most painful final moments I’ve posted online—I’m sorry. I shared your suffering not to dishonor you, but because silence would have been even more cruel.
I never meant to dehumanize you. I’m so sorry.
I have just received this video that was taken a few hours in Rafah. It’s of a son transporting on his bike the body of his father who was sniped near the “aid” site in Rafah.
As reports circulate about a potential ceasefire agreement, Israeli tanks are besieging the Indonesian Hospital in Gaza. Drones continue to circle overhead, while F-16 fighter jets hover in the skies, contributing to a climate of intense fear and uncertainty.