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“My name is Hiyam a broken mother, fighting alone just to survive…”

I am a mother of nine children. We lost our father, our provider, our protector. My husband was martyred in the recent attacks on Gaza. He died under the bombs, and left behind a destroyed home and nine terrified little hearts.Since he left, I’ve been battling life with every bit of strength I have… but the truth is: I am exhausted.

Every day, I wake up to the hungry faces of my children. Their eyes ask me, “Mama, what will we eat today?”And I have no answer.No bread. No milk. Not even a blanket to warm their tiny bodies through the freezing nights.

My home was destroyed. My dreams shattered with it.I am not asking for much — only that my children survive, only that they live with dignity, only that we get through one more day.

I beg every person with a heart, every soul that knows what it means to watch your child suffer while you stand helpless Please, help us Be the support we lost. Be the mercy we so desperately need.

Chuffed

Help Hiam and Her Children

Hello, I hope you and your family are well. My name is Hiam. I am 49 years old, and a mother of nine children-six daughters and three sons. 

Only God knows how we’re surviving And only He can reward those who choose to help.

@northgazaupdates2 @queerstudiesnatura44 @aces-and-angels @interfacefox x @cosmic-collective-system @finnslay @muchmossymess @rez-urrection @walking-polyp @bibyebae @autisticexpression2 @bisexualchemistry @violetclowns @beefybutchboy @feefal

@mobydyke @genderfluidgothwitch @sleepyseaslug @urfavhatesthehungovt @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @morallyrainyday @taviamoth @olovelymoon @jannahswaiting @el-shab-hussein @longlivepalestina @beesofink @curi0uscreature @orchidvioletindigo @sunclownsblog @selamat-linting @girlinafairytale @ragingbullmode @theneutral-zone @thevalaxy @fairuzfan @opencommunion @gorillawithautism @seafoamwoman @emathyst9 @three-croissants @iznabl @nabulsi @sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerr6 @palestinegenocide @nabulsi @sayruq @f1dyke @sar-soor @appsa @oopollo-blog @fireyfobbitmedicine

🌹🌹A Message from the Heart of Suffering

To every kind soul out there…

We are a family of ten, including helpless infants, living in constant displacement. We’ve moved more than ten times, searching for safety, only to find torn tents, dry land, and an uncertain future.

We have no home, no enough food, and not even clean water. Our children go to sleep hungry and wake up crying from pain and illness. They suffer from severe malnutrition, and there is no medicine or milk available.

We are surrounded by the stench of sewage, swarms of insects, and relentless mosquitoes. Every day we survive is a miracle. Every hour without a new tragedy is a blessing.

Today, I share this message because we are on the edge. We are not asking for much — just enough to survive, just enough to protect our children’s dignity.

even the smallest amount, can change everything. It can save a child from hunger, or give a baby a chance to live.

Please, help us. Be the light in our darkest hour.

Chuffed

Help Aisha and her children

I am Elizabeth, and I am fundraising on behalf of Aisha and her family from Gaza. Here is her message:"My name is Aisha Rabah, I am 42 years

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #358 )✅️, my number verified on the list is ( #358 )✅️

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #358 )✅️

It was also verified by Bilal Salah

something in my soul shifted here

Georgios Margaritis (Greek,1814-1884) - Sappho Praying to Aphrodite

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

Chuffed

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War

My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

I'll be real, y'all.

I don't see an ultra-nationalist opening a temple to Pan and Zeus in Arcadia as a Helpol win.

I see it as a stain that we will have to grapple with for time immemorial.

Heck, the people celebrating its opening—more likely than not—wouldn't be allowed anywhere near it.

Greeks only. You know, since it was opened by an ULTRA-NATIONALIST.

appreciation post for my mom, @amanda-farley

(very much a belated thank you for letting me convince you to install tumblr)

Where do I even begin? I feel like I could write years worth of passages when it concerns you. It feels as if ever since you cradled me in those arms that had once held yourself together, you and I were history waiting to be written. Maybe that’s presumptuous of me, but I think I have always been a little presumptuous. Especially when it concerns you. (If I had to count the amount of times people have told me I defended you a bit too much, I fear we would be here for quite a while.)

You have always been my biggest supporter, even when at times it didn’t feel as if you were. You would let my much smaller hands dig my nails into your skin when I felt as of if I was about to burst because of my anxiety, and you still do when that anxiety sneaks back up on me years later. You catered to my odd hyperfixations, like when I was young and was obsessed with mustaches (yes, I still remember that pink dress that was covered with mustaches). How, instead of yelling at me for drawing on the walls, you only scolded me gently into not doing it again and complimented my handiwork. How when you argued with your ex husband you took me out for popsicles, because you had tried for those arguments not to happen in front of me. How when you couldn’t see me for my tenth birthday so you bought me presents and a cake and had set them in front of the door.

Even when your addiction kept dragging you, you still made sure that I knew that you loved me. The way you had held me after my second attempt, letting me get snot all over your shirt. I remember how you defended me from people, how you were the only person who actually decided to listen and do something. I remember you picking me up from school with my reoccurring headaches, telling me that everything will be okay and that you’re sorry. How you held my hand when I had laid in that emergency car. How you never fail to remind me that I am strong, that my experiences does not reflect who I am as a person and who I may turn out to be. How you continue to love and support me through it all.

I think one of the hardest parts of growing is knowing you’re also growing, knowing that one day you won’t be living in a world that once knew how you had felt. I fear for that day, but it also helps me appreciate you more in the present. Hearing your voice brings me back to the present. Knowing you’re out there, being yourself, fills me with joy.

Knowing that, that in at least this world and this lifetime, you are my mom. And that is a blessing and a miracle all in one. A life of us, of mother and child. A life of love and pain.

A life that is unmistakably human.

lenore dove must’ve loved and idolized lucy gray a lot. she wore pieces of her old clothes to honor her and her love of color, she told haymitch that all covey girls have a little mystery to them, she refused to talk about her as a victor. i wonder how much she heard about lucy gray from her uncles and if she felt a deep connection with her despite never having met her

Save us before it's too late.🚨 Please help me. Don't leave us to die alone. Our lives are in your hands. 🚨

My name is Suheila, a mother of five children.

We are living under extremely difficult conditions. Right now, we are trapped under heavy bombardment all around us.

Every passing moment is a threat to our lives.

I am pleading with you from the bottom of my heart—please donate and help us relocate to safety.

Our area has now been declared a ghost zone, which means the danger is beyond words.

Please don’t leave us to die in silence.

My husband Shadi was injured during the war, his condition is critical, and he urgently needs treatment abroad.

But we don’t have the money or a way to get out of here.

I beg you, save my family, save my children—save us before it’s too late.

Our lives are in your hands.

We are not just numbers on the news........

We are a real family—children who want to live, a mother who’s trying to protect them, a father who is injured and in pain.

Our home is no longer safe. Our nights are filled with fear and the sound of bombs.

I cry silently every night, wondering if we’ll survive till the morning.

Please, don’t scroll past our suffering.

Even the smallest donation could mean shelter, food, medicine, or a way to escape this nightmare.

We’ve lost everything—but we haven’t lost hope in people like you.

Campaign checked by 90-ghost

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💬 67  🔁 5277  ❤️ 1229 · My name is Suheila from Gaza 🇵🇸, a mother of 5 children, living with my family in a tent after the war destroyed ou

Donation link

gofundme.com

Donate to Support Suhaila's family in their time of need, organized by Mickey Dee

Hi my name is Mickey and I'm raising funds for: Suheila, who is a m… Mickey Dee needs your support for Support Suhaila's family in

I know we all make jokes and memes about it, like ‘lol, Trump said we are the gender we were at conception, we’re all female now. 🤪’

but like

that doesn’t…scare you?

This is your administration. This is the knowledge that your government has….and they get high-school biology wrong. This law had to have been cross-read by several people before it was passed.

This is your government.

A bunch of rich fascists who don’t know basic science.