An American activist broke down in tears while speaking about the unbearable suffering of the Palestinian people and the world’s continued silence.

Her tears were more than words. They reflected the pain of countless families struggling to survive, while their suffering is too often ignored.

My family is one of them. My children and I are still fighting to survive, and we urgently need your support to keep a roof over their heads and meet our most basic needs.

Israel does not fear the kite; it fears a child from Gaza smiling and playing with his kite above the skies of his homeland.

For the children of Gaza, a kite is not a weapon. It is a simple symbol of childhood, freedom, and a moment of joy in a place where war has stolen almost everything from them. Yet even this small act of innocence has been portrayed as a threat.

According to Hebrew Live, retired Major General Uzi Dayan said:

Some of the hardest days we have ever endured were the days of starvation.

It was an unimaginably brutal time. We didn't have a single crumb of bread. Flour became a rare luxury; a single 25-kilogram bag skyrocketed to an astronomical $1,000—an amount that would only sustain my family for a single week. Hunger consumed us. Desperate for anything to quiet our empty stomachs, we found nothing to eat but tree leaves.

When the so-called "humanitarian aid corridors"—which were nothing but traps of humiliation and death—finally opened, crowds of desperate people would gather, waiting for hours under the scorching sun. Every single day, people were killed or wounded. Driven by sheer starvation, my young children had to go there. Sometimes they would return with a single kilogram of flour; other times, they came back empty-handed, their fragile bodies bruised, bleeding, and torn. The occupation forces opened fire directly at the crowds. My own brother was martyred there, killed while waiting in line just to bring some flour or lentils to his hungry children.

Prices were insane. We went to sleep for consecutive nights without a single bite of food. We were starving. My children were exhausted, crying constantly from the pain of hunger. Our faces grew pale and gaunt, and our bodies wasted away. I lost 18 kilograms. Because my chronic medication was completely unavailable, I suffered from frequent fainting spells and severe drops in blood pressure. With our pale faces and protruding bones, we looked like walking ghosts. We were exhausted, and to this day, we still suffer from the deep physical and psychological scars of this famine.

We Are Fighting to Survive

My name is Nour, a mother of six from Gaza. Today, my family is living through a nightmare of displacement, hunger, illness, and fear. I am writing with a heart full of pain, asking you not to turn away from us. We have lost safety, stability, and the basic things every family needs to survive.

Before the war, life in Gaza was difficult, but we still had some sense of normal life. My husband worked first as a volunteer, and later as a private tutor through an informal educational institution. He was never able to secure a stable job with UNRWA, and work opportunities in Gaza were already extremely limited because unemployment was so high. Still, despite all the hardship, we had some safety, and prices were manageable. We were surviving.

Then the war destroyed everything.

The Fight to Keep My Six Children Alive in Gaza

My name is Nourhan. I was born in 1989, a woman who once had simple dreams, but today, I am a mother fighting an invisible, agonizing war just to keep my six beautiful children alive.

Before this nightmare began, our life was simple but filled with warmth and stability. Our home was a sanctuary where my children felt safe. They attended UNRWA schools—bright, talented souls with big dreams for a peaceful future. My husband holds a university degree in Early Childhood Education, and despite the scarce opportunities in Gaza, he worked as a teacher whenever he could. I, too, graduated from Al-Aqsa University with a degree in Education. But like thousands of youth here, the suffocating siege and unemployment locked those doors. Refusing to surrender, I taught myself digital marketing to support my family and to afford my own medical treatments.