Upcoming Event in Bellingham: "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices"

 

Sunday, March 2, 2025 / Presentation from 1:30 to 2:30 p.m. 

Optional  Q&A & Discussion Following the Presentation, 2:30 to 3:00 p.m. 

In-Person Event -  "Eight Families in Gaza: Amplifying Their Voices."

Bellingham Public Library Lecture Room (Central Branch)

Event Description: A presentation offering an opportunity to learn about eight families in Gaza who are connected to a local community member (Clarissa) who has received permission to share their stories, words, photos, and other media. This is an opportunity to learn more about their lives, loves, and challenges, and to find out more about ways you can offer meaningful and direct support to Palestinians in Gaza.

(This event is affiliated with the Whatcom Coalition for Palestine and is  not sponsored by the Bellingham Public Library).

An Urgent Update & Request for Action

FEBRUARY 2, 2025

In a way this isn't an update, because what I am sharing is nothing new. And the urgency I feel and speak of also isn't new. But it continues to grow, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour.

 
So think of this as more of a reminder, an emphatic expression of urgency, of our required commitment, of our shared responsibility, and of reaffirming my own resolve to do more, say more, share more, in the hopes that the changes that are long overdue will come. And that they will come soon.

 
The destruction and devastation in Gaza is unlike anything I have ever seen before in my life. And the images and videos and descriptions cannot compare to the physical experience of being there and trying to live through this, trying to survive among the ruins and the rubble, trying to breathe through the dust and the dirt, trying to find life amidst death and deprivation. Trying to keep going despite the overwhelming sense of abandonment sinking like a heavy cloud atop the harshness of the material conditions of the genocide. A dark and heavy cloud of abandonment, which also continues to thicken.

This week has been filled with messages from and conversations with people who returned to what had once been their neighborhoods only to discover there is nothing left of the streets, the buildings, the homes they once knew. No shelter, no water, no fuel, no food, no supplies, no support. Blown up ruins and bulldozed remains. Skeletons of animals and of people. Unrecognizable landscapes. Destroyed vegetation. The color grey and poisoned air.

People have been searching through the rubble of their homes and buildings with their bare hands, trying to salvage anything when very little is salvageable. They collect the remains of loved ones, and build graves for those they mourn but have yet to find. They walk for miles to try and find the smallest amount of water, which if they are able to secure is still not enough to meet their needs, and is often of unclean quality.

There is currently a water crisis in Gaza, a water crisis worse than any before, which is saying something because even when times were "better," there was still not enough water. But now it is a true crisis, a crisis in every sense of the word. And crisis might be even too soft a word. Crisis as a descriptor does not do justice to the severity of the situation. And there is also a fuel crisis, which exacerbates the water crisis, since what water there is needs to be transported by truck.

The cost of digging a single well is $3000, and families are trying to raise the funds for doing this themselves, while Gaza's Municipality is asking the international community for support which has yet to materialize. The promised aid is not coming through, and mutual aid crowdfunding donations have slowed considerably since the "ceasefire" began.

What food comes in must still be purchased. And Israel continues to block the entry of tents, shelters, portables, and caravans. In addition to being yet another violation of the terms of the "ceasefire agreement," the immorality, cruelty, and depravity of Israel, the United States, and any government that supports the continuation of these violations and injustices defies comprehension.

I have spent these past three days answering messages from the families I regularly talk with, from the moment I wake up and until I try to sleep, trying to offer some support and answer questions, trying to be there for them emotionally, grateful to connect with them, happy to hear their voices. All the while I know that anything I can provide is not enough and is also far less than they deserve. I keep trying to send words of support, to let them know we have not forgotten them.

But today I had a video call with one person I have grown very close to and he asked me, "Where is the world? Where is humanity?" And I did not have an answer. The urgency and despair is growing each day, and time is not something we can spare. Here are more of my friend's words:

"We live from the lack of death. No one knows how we live and the extent of the suffering we go through. Nobody feels us here. I am unable to buy diapers or milk for the baby and food for ourselves. We have no house to live in. What kind of life is this? Please, let people know about the water. If you try to convey the extent of the suffering, please convey these basic things. I am so tired of this life. We are exhausted."

As I try to get more material support for the Palestinians in Gaza who I am personally committed to, I always ask for their permission to share their words and information before I share them with anyone myself. It is important to me that I amplify their voices whenever I try to use my own, and that I always do it respectfully and in a way that honors their wishes. When I spoke with another friend about this recently, this is what he shared:

"Please go ahead and share everything I have shared with you. Make my voice heard; let people know how we are suffering, how we spend hours in line waiting for food and water. Tell them that we walk more than ten minutes in the middle of the night to reach the bathroom, only to stand in line for an hour to take our turn. Tell them our toes and noses turn blue at night from the cold that makes them numb. Tell them that parents stand speechless when their children ask for food...Let them know we are good people, but war has been hard on us—harder than enough. I have lost my home, my belongings, my relatives, my friends, my memories, and above all, my dreams."

I share this here and now as one more way in one more place, in the hopes that it will lead to something, some sort of support for the people in Palestine who deserve so much more. Some kind of shift to change the conditions which have allowed what should have never been allowed to happen. Some sort of connection yet to be made. And I will keep looking for and finding more places to do this. And I hope you will too.

If you have been waiting to act, thinking you need to learn more, thinking you do not know what to do or where to start, feeling overwhelmed by everything, I beg you to please release those barriers which only hold you back, and which prevent you from doing something now.

There is so much to be done. The world needs all of us. And if you are in a position to help materially, please do so now. This urgency cannot be overstated.

______________________________________________________________________________

Below is a list of links to some mutual aid crowdfunding campaigns for people and groups I am personally committed to and have been trying to support. If you are also in a position to donate to any or all of these, I will be forever grateful. And I know for a fact your donation will have an impact.

And if you would like to send funds to me to donate on your behalf, please email me at clarissjanae@gmail.com.

• Light a Candle Amidst Darkness Surrounding Majd, the Gazan
• Help Abeer & Her Family Rebuild
• Help Ashraf Develop His Source of Income to Survive in Gaza
• Help Tamer & His Family to Survive in Gaza
• Help the Hamad Family Survive & Rebuild Their Lives
• Help Mohammad & His Family Survive
• Help Aboud Survive & Look After My Family
• Help Fadi Support His Family & Rebuild Their Lives in Gaza
• Cruelty-Free Kitchen
• North and Central Gaza: Food, Water, Diapers + Milk, Medical Aid

Cruelty-Free Kitchen

January 12, 2025

 I have been so moved by the many Palestinians in Gaza who are supporting their community while also experiencing the same hardship and dangerous conditions as those around them. There are a number of individuals and groups who are doing amazing work, embodying compassion and love in all of their actions. I hope to write about more of them in the coming days. And to start things off tonight, I want to share with you some information about one particular group whose members are doing all they can to take care of both the animals and the people while they are all suffering from the unrelenting violence of this genocide. 

They are called the “Cruelty-Free Kitchen,” and they were founded by five wonderful people: Walid, Amjad, Abood, Mahmoud, and Mo. From their fundraiser page: 

“With support from our donations, the kitchen has successfully distributed thousands of meals, ensuring that hundreds upon hundreds of people—mostly children—are able to leave with food in their bellies.”

[Photo Credit: Image from the Cruelty-Free Kitchen Chuffed Fundraiser Campaign Page]

Until the siege on Northern Gaza, the Cruelty-Free Kitchen had partnered with World Central Kitchen, which helped with supplies. However, this is no longer possible, and the team is now relying on our support more than ever. As conditions in the north grow even more dire with little to no aid crossing into the region, supplies are getting harder to find and prices have grown exorbitantly high. 

In addition to the team in the North, there’s an extension of the Cruelty-Free Kitchen in Central Gaza. Mo, Walid's cousin, is living in a tent camp, doing his best to supply those around him with fresh bread, water, and occasionally treats for the children. If the kitchen in North Gaza is ever forced to stop operating, the remaining funds will be redirected to Mo’s efforts in Deir al Balah to keep his bakery running and provide clean water.

The love and compassion these amazing men show to everyone around them every single day is beautiful and deserves our support. They are also enduring tremendous losses of their own, and they face countless dangers every day. I think of them often and search for their updates every day. I am continually affected by their compassion and love.

You can learn more about the work they do by following them on Twitter, and you can also help support them and their efforts by donating to the fundraiser for Cruelty Free Kitchen, as well as to the members’ individual fundraisers, which helps to support them so they can also take care of their own families and the animals they care for and also continue this work.  

• Read to learn more & donate to support Abood (Abdullah al-Ghafari) / Twitter handle: @Cats2Save

• Read to learn more & donate to support Amjad / Twitter handle: @amjadabd1985

• Donate to support Mahmoud Salam  /Twitter handle:@helpAnimalXxx

• Read to learn more & donate to support Mo (Muhammed Musa Rashadharz) / Twitter handle: @SARAMoh69489245

• Read to learn more & donate to support Walid Herez /  @LoverHomeless

And a very special and personal thank you to Abood for connecting with me online about all of this. When I expressed my appreciation to him for all that he is doing, he shared:

"This is our duty towards all the innocent creatures here. Helping them gives me hope to survive and continue helping with loyal and wonderful friends. We love peace, security and stability, helping others is a small part of what motivates us to continue in order to stay strong and continue to help all the innocent creatures here in North Gaza.”

Please support these beautiful people however you can. (And to any returning #vegan readers out there who are reading this, supporting this kitchen and its founders is also a great way for us to further align our supportive actions with our vegan ethics.)

--January 12, 2025

The Most Urgent Thing

January 11, 2025

Those who are being starved, whose rights to freedom and safety have been stolen, who are under the constant threat of violent attacks, should not also have to fundraise for their very survival. 

And we who are not experiencing this, we who reside in relative safety, especially those of us in the countries responsible for sending the weapons and the bombs that fuel this genocide, bear the responsibility to do all we can every day to support the people who are trying to survive. While also doing all we can in every moment to end this violence.
 
This is the most urgent thing. There are also other important things that we can be doing along side this. But this is the most urgent thing. Because conditions are dire. They surpassed being in a crisis state of emergency long, long ago. 

Today I went to a meeting in my community, to try and connect with others who are trying to find more ways to end the genocide, to support Palestine and justice for Palestine. I was heartened to see how many people were there, and I hope to build on some of those connections. But my main goal for attending was to try and get more support for some of the fundraisers for Palestinians that I have been donating to and promoting. 

I have a good friend in Gaza who messages me throughout the day, every day, who always checks on me and also lets me know how he is doing. He is very important to me. Every time I hear from him, I experience relief in knowing he is ok. Except that he isn't really ok. Because nothing is ok. And no one in Gaza is ok.

By "ok" I guess what I mean is he is still alive. He is ok enough to still be here. And to be "here" is to be sick with no medicine and no safety. To be traumatized over and over again. To be in constant mourning but not having any chance to grieve. To be hungry, exhausted, cold, and in constant danger. To know you must keep moving even if you have no break, no chance to rest, nothing to replenish you. To know the next day will bring more loss and danger. All while trying to hang on, trying to be there for your family who are still "here" too.

Every night is dangerous. Today was very very bad. How each day that passes can somehow be worse than the previous day defies comprehension. 

Today's last message from my friend has made me worry about him more than I have ever worried before. And so tonight, like many others, (other people, other nights), I know I will not sleep. I will light my candle and say more prayers. I will hold those who are in danger close to my heart. And I will feel like I cannot breathe. 

And I will keep checking my phone for that message from my friend, the message where he lets me know he is ok. And I will go to the pages of so many Palestinians who I have also come to know and care about, to see what they are sharing with us, to make sure they are still here. And I will also think about the people I have not yet met. The ones who are also struggling, who I do not yet know personally. The ones who may be unable to share their messages online with this unworthy world, but who matter just the same.

Each passing second hurts, pierces like a knife. We do not have the luxury of time. We are losing more and more each day. We must do everything to end this, and everything to try to support the people trying to survive this. In our every day lives. In our immediate environments. In every space we are in and all that we do. I say this for myself as much as anyone. For this is the most urgent thing.  

--January 11, 2025 

Sick From Genocide

On Christmas day, a student named Mahdi posted on Twitter: "The harsh truth is that you are all living your lives while no one truly sees us." He pointed out how we are in our homes with our families, sleeping at night, going to work the next day, letting our lives continue on normally. 
"But for us, there is no life. No one notices as we starve, we die, we burn, and are torn apart. To them it makes no difference."

I said that I understood why he felt this way. But I also told him that "many of us exist in two worlds, unable to be fully present in our lives, overwhelmed by emotion and grief and pain at not being able to stop this." I told him we carry this with us everywhere, in all that we do. I told him he mattered to us, always. And others echoed what I was trying to express.

This morning I attended an online event hosted by a Doctors Against Genocide, a global coalition of healthcare workers who are "dedicating to succeeding where governments have failed in confronting and preventing genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity."

One of the speakers, Dr. Asfia Qaadir, spoke about "genocide sickness," which she said affects all of humanity and is caused by genocide. And she validated those of us who are experiencing physical and psychological distress and health symptoms, explaining that this distress response is normal and natural, that it indicates that we have refused to disconnect and turn away from our humanity, despite pressure around us to do so. She talked about the mental and physical effects on our health and bodies that occur as a result of this intense moral injury and moral distress. Some of the symptoms include: memory problems; being in a constant state of heightened anxiety and panic; frequent nightmares; increase in chronic pain conditions, cardiovascular illnesses, and inflammatory conditions--all of which can contribute to suppressing our immune systems, making us more susceptible to illness and sickness, which also makes it much harder to recover from illness.

She acknowledged how spaces of genocide denial are also hostile spaces--hostile to our bodies; hostile to our humanity. And how when we work and live in these spaces where we are pressured to disconnect from what is happening and deny our own reactions, the distress we are already experiencing is exacerbated.

When I wrote earlier about how and why I was updating this site, I talked about the trauma and profound harm caused by violence committed against people, animals, and the earth, and the trauma and harm of witnessing such horrors while being unable to immediately stop them and end the suffering.

Tomorrow, Monday January 6, 2025, medical workers and those who have been made sick and who are impacted by the ongoing genocide in Gaza and Palestine will be taking a mental health sick leave day to "grieve, heal, and organize."

They will be reflecting on:

"...the immense moral injury of funding a genocide and engage in the most important aspect of treatment: publicly demanding an end to the genocide in Gaza. January 6 itself will be a national and Global Day of Action, with demonstrations, pickets, and free clinics to advocate for an end to the genocide. Organizers will post on social media using #SickFromGenocide."

You can learn more on their website. 

--January 5, 2025

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Doctors Against Genocide (@doctorsagainstgenocide)

A Letter to College & University Presidents & Administrators

December 30, 2024

It is winter break right now at the university where I work, which is also the same university where I was once a student, many years ago. The campus is very quiet and the days have been very dark. Students have gone home to be with their families and loved ones until the new year and term begins.

 
With the cyclical nature of a life that has been long influenced by the recurrence of patterns driven by the timing of the academic calendar, I recognize that this time of year is often one of intense reflection for me. I have taken some time off from my job, and I have spent these last days doing more of what I have also been doing these past fifteen months, determined to not become immobilized by disbelief, despair, and grief, something which becomes increasingly challenging for me with each passing day.

I have seen students in Gaza study by flame and torch light in the midst of falling bombs; students giving their thesis presentations in makeshift tents, wandering the destroyed streets after searching all day for water and food to now search for a signal so they can take their final exams. And I wonder, what world am I living in where no institution of higher education in the country I reside has expressed any public support for these students, nor any condemnation of the genocide and violence the U.S. government is funding and making possible?

During this past year when I have voiced this question to people with whom I know or work, the responses I receive are generally those of silence, denial, discomfort, defensiveness, or minimization--or some combination of these--- a reaction steeped in anti-Palestinian racism, something so fully integrated into our mainstream culture, that those who even acknowledge the existence of this particular form of racism will likely be accused of anti-semitism. 

But that accusation is a hollow distraction, albeit a dangerous and deadly distraction. While lacking in substance, this distraction has led to the justification and acceptance of extreme violence and killing. It has been wielded effectively in our universities and in our governments to silence and keep many in complacency and intentional ignorance, conditions which have formed the framework and the foundation for sustaining this genocide, which continues to kill more people every day.  

I do not often engage in comparative hypotheticals, as I find they are often disrespectful to the experiences of those who are being marginalized and dehumanized, obscured and denied. I dislike when parallels are used to convey something or refer to someone who should be respected and understood on their own terms. But I am well past the point of trying anything and everything, every day, to end these horrors. 

So here goes: Please consider for a moment if all the schools and universities in the U.S., Canada, or the UK had been severely damaged or destroyed, if the educational infrastructure in these countries had been targeted and bombed, along with their teachers, administrators, professors, and staff. Do you believe that if this had occurred you, in your role, as the leader of an institution of higher education, would have something to say? Would you express sadness, outrage, or condemnation of such violence? Would you want to make sure that the institution you are leading played no part in supporting this destruction? Or would you say the situation was complex. Or that the university must be “politically neutral” on such matters. 

Perhaps you believe that there is something separating us from the people of Palestine, from their universities and from their lives, that they are somehow far away, that we are somehow removed from responsibility because of their geographical location. But the truth is what you may perceive as a distance that absolves our institutions from any culpability is actually artificial, arbitrary, and grounded in illusions--illusions that disintegrate beneath the weight of the U.S. bombs, weapons, and policies being used to target and destroy the culture, homes, lands, and lives of the Palestinian people. Bombs, weapons, and policies which this country profits from, and those profits fund our schools, our universities, our endowments, our retirement plans, and our salaries. 

According to a UN Report published in April 2024, more than 80% of the schools in Gaza had been severely damaged or destroyed, as the result of a deliberate effort to destroy the Palestinian education system. This ‘scholasticide’ also refers to the targeting of teachers, students, staff, and the destruction of educational infrastructure. That same report explains:

“After six months of military assault, more than 5,479 students, 261 teachers and 95 university professors have been killed in Gaza, and over 7,819 students and 756 teachers have been injured – with numbers growing each day. At least 60 percent of educational facilities, including 13 public libraries, have been damaged or destroyed and at least 625,000 students have no access to education. Another 195 heritage sites, 227 mosques and three churches have also been damaged or destroyed, including the Central Archives of Gaza, containing 150 years of history. Israa University, the last remaining university in Gaza was demolished by the Israeli military on 17 January 2024.” 

This report was published nine months ago, and nearly one year has passed since Al-Israa University was destroyed. And since then, the attacks on schools have only increased. They have become so frequent, the people sheltering in them killed so often, it is hard to keep track of the number of school massacres. This fact alone is devastating for me to contemplate.  

While babies freeze to death in fabric shelters drenched with rain, while trucks containing blankets, food, and medicine are barred by Israel from entering into Gaza, while hospitals are besieged and doctors who will not abandon their patients are kidnapped and taken to torture camps after months of pleading with the international community for help, and all the while the bombs don't stop falling, it has become harder for the supportive messages I share each day with the many people in Gaza who I have come to know and care about to be received alongside any kind of hope, or any belief that they have not been abandoned by the world. 

People in Gaza say they are dying multiple times--first when they lose their friends and family, then next when they die themselves, and then again when it seems to them that none of these deaths matter to the outside world--a world they once believed would do something if only they knew what was really happening. 

I try my best to tell them they are not alone, that we do care, that we are trying. And I know this is true for many of us. And I see this truth in the actions many of our students have taken. But despite this, in my darkest moments, when I am safe in my warm home reading or listening to messages of despair as the winter storms ravage the inadequate shelters people have tried to build for themselves out of discarded materials and remnants of destruction, and all I can offer in that moment are words, I feel a heavy weight settle on my chest with a physical presence that is unlike anything I have ever felt before in my life.

Everyone has some amount of power, and those in leadership positions at institutions of higher education have a great deal more power than they admit. What do you think would happen if university presidents decided to speak out against this, to demand an end to these atrocities, to condemn the targeting of educational institutions and their staff? I promise you; it would have an impact. It would make a difference. 

And we are also well past the point, after everything we have experienced during this past year and longer, where you can say that you do not know what is happening. You cannot say there is nothing you can do. You can only say you are choosing to look away, you are choosing to give your blessing to this genocide. You can cloak this choice as much as you want behind statements proclaiming a commitment to “neutrality,” but that will not change the very un-neutral reality of your decision and its consequences. 

And you do have another choice. We all do. Every person who reads these words can make the choice, right now, to end this. Take responsibility for your position. Realize your power. Find your voice. Do what is right. 

--December 30, 2024

About This Site

I used to write about food….

This site used to be about vegan food and being vegan. From 2008 to 2016, I wrote and published weekly. I enjoyed creating and sharing recipes, eating at and writing about restaurants, exploring in words and in life how food could bring people together. I ended up finding a community of vegans that I had not known prior to my writing, and I saw how writing and sharing could lead to connection and change.

I stopped writing and publishing regularly on this site in 2019 but decided to leave it up, unpublishing many articles about restaurants that no longer existed, thinking someday I might return to writing here again. And now at last I have decided to do just that. But I can no longer write about food, at least not in the way that I once did. 

I believe there is a certain kind of trauma caused by witnessing violence and brutality inflicted upon people, animals, and the earth while also being unable to stop it; that there is trauma in witnessing human-caused suffering, starvation, brutality, and displacement, in knowing that the systems and structures that we benefit from are enabling unfathomable horrors on others, horrors that show no clear sign of ending. 

This trauma does not compare to the experiences of the people who are living through and dying from the physical embodied reality of what we are witnessing, but I believe that to try and go about our daily lives and not acknowledge or try to stop what is happening, or to act as though any of this is normal (or acceptable, or moral, or justifiable) causes profound harm. 

I am forever changed by the U.S.-supported genocide of Palestinians, and so doing whatever I can to help end it while also trying to support the people who are trying to survive the genocide is my primary focus. Over the past fifteen months I have learned much, and I have also sought different places and ways to use my voice, and to to amplify the voices of Palestinians who have been forced to endure unimaginable horrors while also trying to communicate with the world all that is happening. I have listened and written and spoken. I have shared things in person and online–in letters and articles; through writing and messages, emails and tweets. And now, at last, I am returning to this old place of mine, this place where for many years I once wrote about vegan food cooking, vegan values, and being vegan in Bellingham. 

But writing about the pleasures and joy of food, or about the benefits of integrating my values and ethics with what I cook and eat, all while Palestinians are being intentionally starved (with the full support of our government) is not something I will do. I have removed my old posts, including the recipes I once shared, and I won't be posting any food pictures anywhere online.

I am changing the scope of this site but keeping the name the same because for me, it still fits. And in some way aligns with the goals I had when I first started writing, when I decided to try to explore how sharing and writing could lead to community, connection, and change.

And I am still a vegan in Bellingham, with the same principles, beliefs, and compassion as when I first created this site so many years ago. And if you are reading this now, I hope you will consider what I will be sharing, and that it will compel you to speak and to act. And that you will come back again.

Updated December 29, 2024