Så en 13-årig pige indgår frivilligt i hård halsbåndssex med lærer, men en 16-årig (seksuelt myndig) dreng er en stakkel, når han deler en umyndig piges seksuelle krænkelse?
Det her lands lovgivning er misogyn, så det skriger til himlen🤮.
Må vel stemme blankt næste gang😭.
Yesterday, the last warning came from Nasser Hospital: “In 24 hours, there will be no formula left for premature infants.” Not a metaphor. Not exaggeration. A clinical fact. And the response? Silence. Not one truck. Not one crate. Just the silence of steel-hearted men, satisfied with the mathematics of infant death.
That evening, a mother was brought to the clinic. Thirty-three years old. Unconscious. Skin cold. Breath shallow. A body so thin I could see the outline of her bones as I placed the IV. Her baby still clung to her, unaware that the breast it suckled had nothing left to give but the scent of death.
Diagnosis? Dehydration. Acute malnutrition. But in truth, she suffers from something medicine cannot cure: abandonment.
We administered fluids, stabilized her vitals. On paper, it will look like we helped her. We did not. We postponed the inevitable. She will return, again and again, until she dies or the world wakes up. And I am not sure which will come first.
My colleague, still untouched by this hell, whispered that she should stop breastfeeding. “She must regain her strength,” he said. I did not answer. What could I say? That formula is no longer a product here, but a dream? That a can of powdered milk now costs more than a month's worth of food, if there were food?
She cannot buy bread. She cannot buy air. And yet we speak to her as if she had choices. This is the cruelty of war: not just the bombs, but the absurdity of giving advice to the damned.
When she left, I saw her husband standing outside. He looked at me with the eyes of a man who has already buried too much. I gave him the money in my pocket. It will not save her. It might buy two loaves of bread. It might buy her three more days of life.
But she will return. And when she does, we will treat her again with our empty hands, with our useless medicine, and our unbearable guilt.
This is not medicine. This is triage in a mass grave that has not been dug yet.
Do not mistake this for a humanitarian emergency.
This is not a famine. It is a siege.
It is not collapse. It is calculation.
It is not neglect. It is intent.
And intent, cold and deliberate, makes it a crime.
The women who collapse in my arms are not statistics. They are executions carried out in slow motion.
And what is the world’s role?
It does not pull the trigger. It simply watches the gun fire, again and again, and calls it “complicated.”
But I will tell you what is simple:
Hunger kills. Thirst kills. Silence kills.
And here, in Gaza, all three work together with perfect efficiency.
#GazaGenocide
@thebreannabrown Hi Breanna
I’ve been trying to find an email to reach on, but it seems impossible.
I hope you will let me know where I can contact you?
Best regards from Tine
@KasperFast_@Jens_Anton@Kriskraen@berlingske Shit mand.
Jeg har oplevet at en 16-årig (!!!) skrev til mit barn at det skulle begå selvmord.
Jeg klagede til skolen, men kommunikationen er død. Jeg venter stadig på svar.
@ask_aubry This brings tears to my eyes. What an absolutely lonely situation to be trapped in, to now have to face coparenting for 18 years with that poor excuse off a man.