I had 20 patients in my Pediatric War Injuries Clinic today, for follow-up care.
Of the 20 children, Israel had killed one or both parents of 19 of them.
Their absence of self-awareness is a serious pathology. They just killed 3k civilians (really, civilians) and are complaining that their invading soldiers are facing some risks WHILE INVADING.
This is extremely shameful when the whole world is silent and toothless on this.
🇦🇺 filmmaker Juliet said: I was raped by an Israeli soldier inside a darkened shipping container while handcuffed and shackled on a Gaza aid flotilla.
They also used water torture and beatings.
This is what they did to my father’s grave and my grandparents and other family.
This is not a war on Hezbollah. This is a war on a people and their memory.
only people with no culture, no history, an no roots in soil can do this. the 'jewish state' is a profound darkness upon humanity and it should be banished.
ICE at Delaney hall weren’t the first ones to shoot rubber bullets or throw tear gas. It was NJ state troopers under the order of the governor.
Whether democrat or republican, both will always repress protest and media.
I encourage you all to read about Dolores Bustamante, a longtime apple picker & advocate for the rights of farm workers in upstate NY.
She was instrumental in banning state troopers from asking immigration status & helped pass the Green Light Law.
Last month, ICE arrested her.
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.
NYTimes will dedicate ten dozen articles to the language of anti-apartheid college students and how it impacts Jewish feelings, but not one about what Israel's own ministers say.