Thank you very much for your support of the post, but a small donation from you will save my children from death ❤️🩹
I am waiting for your donations for me and my children🇵🇸to buy milk, diapers, medicine and a tent to protect my children from the cold of winter
<3 i hope for your safety all the way!
i can only help with sharing rn, but guys if you have money, spare them in their donation box, it'll mean alot to them and for you aswell💞
Etaf is a wife and mother of 5 from Ghazzah. Last year, she and her family's home was destroyed, a long with her husband's source of income and their car.
They were displaced for 200 days, all the way induring the hellish tribulations of genocide. Luckily, they were able to flee into Egypt; however their struggles are not over.
Due to their lack of income, Etaf and her husband struggle to provide their children with food, clothing, and education. On top of that, they are struggling to pay the rent on their house as winter approaches.
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My brother. Abd must leave for treatment. The crossings have been opened for humanitarian cases. Save my brother before he becomes paralyzed. Please donate, even if it is $5, it will make a big difference.
Gaza must be evacuated for treatment
Vetted
Vetted
Save my brother before it's too late 🥺🙏
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:
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.
its messy i know
bare wit me...
"The moment Palestinian journalists and photographers burned as a result of a direct Zionist bombing targeting their tent inside Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis, south of the Gaza Strip.
The bombing was deliberate, extending to those who conveyed the truth through their lenses and cameras, turning their tent into fire, smoke, and screams.
They were targeted in the heart of the only remaining humanitarian space, within the premises of a hospital that was supposed to be safe.
At that moment, not only were their tools burned, but also the truth they tried to deliver to the world.
A tragic scene added to the series of crimes committed by the occupation against civilians, confirming that the free voice is one of the targets of this aggression."
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