This special presentation, developed in collaboration with eight families in Gaza & presented by a local community member (Clarissa Mansfield) who is personally connected to them, offers a chance to learn about the lives, loves, and challenges of these families as they try to survive the genocide. Join us to learn more about them, and about how you can give meaningful & direct support to Palestinians in Gaza.
DATE / TIME: Thursday, July 3, 2025 / 7pm - 8:30pm
Whatcom Peace & Justice Center - 1220 Bay Street, Bellingham, WA
This past week I had the honor of being interviewed by the talented and generous writer Lama Obeid. Lama asked me thoughtful questions, questions that made me think and reflect, questions I am still pondering today. My gratitude to Lama for sharing with me her time, her kindness, and her insightful questions that created the space for this conversation. I appreciate her so much. (You can listen to the complete interview on her Substack site).
One theme that surfaced repeatedly was related to thinking about how people are responding, questioning, communicating, and acting when it comes to Palestine–what I and other people are doing (or not doing), in response to the accelerated genocide. And of course, being based in the United States, my answers generally included my personal reflections upon the influence of our dominant culture and institutional structures.
Today I’ve been thinking a lot about the people I meet in my local community, the ones I encounter, talk to, and sometimes work alongside. I wonder why some are moved to act, others to ignore, and yet others let despair immobilize them completely. As we see what is being done to Palestinians by the country we live in, as we recognize how our comfort comes at the expense of someone else’s suffering, and as we contemplate the gargantuan size of the systems that oppress us– the corruption in our governments, the vast inequities in power– as we see the people in Palestine being starved, terrorized, and killed while we also feel the pain of not yet having been able to stop this, I understand why some may feel helpless. I understand having moments where hopelessness may overwhelm us, I truly do. Hopelessness, grief, despair. I feel these things too.
But I strongly believe we cannot let that be the place where we stay. We have a duty and a responsibility to not let these feelings, no matter how powerful they may feel, prevent us from doing what is necessary, required, and needed. I often think of Rasha Abdulhadi’swords: "For those of us not currently being bombed, for those of us whose taxes & daily purchases pay for genocide: Despair is far too expensive a luxury. We have already bankrolled too much horror. Let us save time, save our spirits, and act now to get in the way."
I have thought for a long time about trying to write something about barriers to action, barriers that cause people to retreat and look away, to ignore or hide. I would like to write something that could help break down those barriers, and offer an attempt to help more people find their pathways into action. I am still thinking about this now. But I have more thoughts in my jumbled heart and mind than I know how to effectively communicate at this time.
I regularly write and send email updates to an ever-growing list of people with whom I’ve been trying to raise more support--people from within my own life who may live anywhere, but also primarily people from my local community. In the most recent update, which I shared late last night, I wrote about the families who I am most committed to trying to support. I wrote about how they are struggling. How they are exhausted beyond words, fatigued, malnourished, and losing more loved ones to violence every day.
The truth is, all Palestinians in Gaza are struggling. They have already been forced to endure so much, and they don’t really have more in reserve to draw from in terms of strength or capacity. They are continuing to lose weight, and their bodies are very very weak. I wrote about how there has been an increase in the daily massacres of Palestinians trying to find food at the American GHF centers, as Palestinians are attacked by quadcopters, missiles, tanks, and gunfire while they try to obtain flour or a small box of food.
Every family I spoke with this week has recently risked their lives in pursuit of the so-called “aid,” not because they don’t know the risks, but because they do not feel they have a choice. Several families lost loved ones and family members who were martyred after being shot by the American mercenaries while they waited for food. One family has a relative who went in search of aid and never returned, a scenario which is also becoming very common. Several of the primary contacts for the families themselves had very close calls when they attempted to get food and faced a barrage of bullets and gunfire.
I feel it needs to be clearly stated that American soldiers and American mercenaries are the people killing hungry starving Palestinians– hungry starving men women and children–as they try to find food to keep themselves and their families alive. This is happening every single day. And our country is responsible for it. Which means those of us who are living in this country must do more to end this, while also doing all we can to help those who are trying to survive stay alive.
For the families I am closest to, this week was marked by many consolation services and funerals for killed friends and relatives. And this while the families continue to be starved and forced to experience extreme hunger, as they struggle to afford anything to eat. On average right now, each family needs to receive at least $150 in donations per day at minimum, and that is not an amount we have been able to reach as of yet.
I recently updated my Linktr.ee, and in addition to the links to various fundraising campaigns you can find on the right side of this site, there are also fundraisers listed and linked from the link tree, including the links for the eight families who are featured in the local “Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices”presentations. Likewise, all of the other campaigns I link to belong to people I know personally, people I speak with often, people I am trying to support how I can.
I have recently been quoting the words from a Palestinian man in Gaza named Samer, sharing (with his permission) an excerpt of something he posted online:
“So please, please, please, especially in these days — don’t abandon us. We are facing the worst genocide, the harshest famine, and the vilest enemy on the face of the earth and in all of history. We will keep reminding, speaking, and crying out — for you, about you, and with you — until no one is left alone to face starvation. Until no child goes hungry. Until no father collapses. Until no mother is let down. To anyone reading these words: Whatever you can do — do it now. It may not save the whole world, but it could save a family. And right now, saving a family means saving an entire world.”
If you are feeling hopeless, I hope you will channel that emotion into action, actions that will make a positive impact. Actions that will help keep people alive. It is the least we can do to support the people to whom we owe everything.
The academic year for the university where I work is drawing to a close, and I have been thinking about the students in Gaza. And I have been reflecting on where things were a year ago at this time, and how much worse they have become since then.
Every day I speak with students and educators in Gaza who are doing their best to survive the genocide, the unrelenting violence, and the famine, all while still holding on to their dreams. And I wonder what it will finally take to end this.
I have asked before and I ask again now, what would happen if university and college presidents came out publicly, as leaders of their institutions, against the genocide? What if they made statements in solidarity with their Palestinian peers and colleagues? Would that have an effect?
Sometimes we say words are just words without actions to back them up, that words on their own are not enough to change anything if they don't have something behind them. And yet, people can be so afraid of words that they try to suppress them, so there must be some power there.
And who gets to speak, who gets to be heard, and what power is associated with someone's words is often dependent on their position, and the positions of power they hold. I can't help but think the weight of the words of a university president speaking out against the genocide of the Palestinian people would make an impact, would make the news, would inspire others, and would attract students who want to go to a university whose leadership is unafraid to speak out and do what is right.
Maybe you are reading this and you think you are "just" an ordinary person. And maybe you are reading this and you are not a university president, as is likely the case since I am not a wealthy donor, nor am I a Board of Trustees member, so it is very unlikely any university president would be interested in what I am writing here. But I will write it anyway, and I will add that none of us are ordinary, and everyone has some power, whatever that might look like, however that might be. The thing is to recognize what yours is and find a way to use your voice, in every space and every room, to keep trying to find new ways to do new things until we can finally stop this.
While my heart is with Palestine and with all Palestinians, especially with those I have grown closest to in Gaza, I also have the deepest love for and solidarity with the educators, school staff members, students, librarians, archivists, teachers, writers, and translators in Gaza, those who are my peers and who deserve so much more than what they have received from their professional colleagues. And there is so much more we could and should be doing. I will keep trying, and I hope you will too.
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