Joe Christman

I don’t know. It feels obscenely stupid to start posting videos of my loved ones in Gaza right now, as their tents flood with rainwater in the middle of the night, as they sleep in damp clothes on soaked mattresses, and to think for a f*cking second that these images might move someone to save their babies, to protect what little dignity they have left. As if this time could be any different from last year, or the year before that, or the year before that. As if people around the world, especially those with the power to do something, might suddenly be moved by a family’s tent flooding with rainwater when the sight of hundreds of babies whose bodies were shredded by Israeli bombs was not enough to put an end to this. How many more times must we expose the suffering of the people we love, strip them of their privacy in their most vulnerable moments, in the desperate hope that someone, somewhere, might finally care enough to act?