Over-thinking Things

We live under a siege that silently kills us. I beg you, from the depths of my heart... help her if you can, or share this plea so it reaches those with the ability and compassion.

Lama deserves life. Why are you ignoring me? Hasn't it come time for us to take action and stand together against this injustice?

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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.

Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,

When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.

From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.

💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength

As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.

But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.

“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed” A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.

“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins” This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.

🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now

Despite everything, we’re still here. Still surviving. Still hoping.

But things have only gotten harder.

The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.

We’re trapped.

🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next. 👨‍👩‍👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves. 📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.

And yet…

Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.

Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us: You’re walking this road with us. And that gives us the strength to keep going.

💖 What You Can Do

If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words. If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.

Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.

✨ Why It All Matters

This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity. It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity. You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.

🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology

There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.

When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.

If that happened, I am truly sorry.

Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.

I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.

If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.

I’m writing this with a heart full of pain and hope.

My name is Nasr, a young man from Gaza, and I’m sharing our story not because I want to—but because I have to.

💔 The war took everything from us.

In just moments, my entire world collapsed.

My mother and sister were killed in an airstrike.

My father is seriously ill and unable to work or provide for us.

Now I am the one responsible for my younger siblings—little children who have seen more horror than any child should.

We used to live a simple life.

We weren’t rich, but we had love and hope.

Now, we sleep under the open sky, surrounded by fear and uncertainty.

Every night, I wonder how I’ll feed them tomorrow.

Every morning, I’m just thankful we’re still alive.

This is not just my story. This is our fight to survive.

We are now struggling to afford even the basics:

A home, food, medicine, and safety.

Right now, we need your kindness more than ever.

Even $10 💵 can help us:

Buy food for the children 🍞

Get essential medicine for my father 💊

Buy them clothes or warm blankets 🧥

Give them a small sense of safety

If you can’t donate, you can still help.

🔁 Re-share this post. Spread our story.

You never know who might see it and feel moved to help.

We are not just numbers. We are human. We are survivors. And we’re asking you… please don’t look away.

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

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.

Her anti-trans Crisis Centre in Edinburgh has the director of For Women Scotland on the Board of Directors. x

We can presume she's given more (financial) support off the record or in other ways.

Rowling consistently makes passive income on all Harry Potter products. Multiple sources have cited that Rowling earns anywhere between $50 million to a $100 million each year from royalties. Forbes estimated she earned $95 million in 2017 alone. x x x

It is a well-known fact that she earns net profit percentages on all her IP. Every time you buy any HP merch, from anywhere, she gets a cut. Every time you watch one of her films, even streaming or just on the tv, she gets a cut. Every time you visit Universal Studios or Harry Potter World, she gets a cut.

And she uses that money to do this. To strip trans rights at every opportunity.

UNION ‼️‼️ UNION ‼️‼️‼️ UNION ‼️‼️‼️‼️

Yeah well, when I checked the price just now (12 MAR 2025 @ 1:31 PM EDT), TSLA is currently trading at $250.85. That's down 48.6% from the high.

Babes, we're already nearly two-thirds of the way there.

Because its public transit, not private transit.

Once you've experienced them, you will understand the hype. They are also very comfortable and very scenic.

Being in high speed rail is far more comfortable than a plane. The seats are good, the ride is very smooth (no turbulence! no take off and landing! none of anything like that!), and you can get up to find the restroom whenever you want, no seatbelt sign or any of that.

It is so much faster than many other forms of transport not just because of its own speed, but because train stations can be centrally located and easy to get to (unlike most airports), and don't have the excess security theatre of airports that slows down the process. So the entire experience feels quicker and easier from start to finish.

trains are better for the environment by a huge margin than flight and than driving as well. and the scenic element is indeed much nicer -- you get to watch the landscape go by and change, without the stress of driving.

You've got a generation of young-adults who are learning to be adults for the first time and for so many of them it sucks. It sucks to be in your first shitty apartment where things break, and to have your first shitty car that needs maintenance, and to be working a low-paying service or retail job where you get berated all day and barely scrape by. And you go home and you have taxes to figure out and electric bills to figure out and a screen on your phone to rot into to destress.

And this is men and women, equally, in this spot. But the alt-right messaging gets to tailor their approach to gender.

And hey women, yes you working a shitty job for shitty pay, overwhelmed by financial responsibilities and car repairs, what if you actually didn't need to do ANY of that? You don't need to. And you don't need to feel guilty about it. (You're not quitting, you're not being lazy), you actually are just embracing the chance to be exactly who an ideal woman should be. You should actually be beautiful, and demure, and barefoot in a sunny kitchen, glowing, pregnant, hearing the joyful sounds of your children while you bake a roast for your wonderful husband (strong, protective, loves you, handles the finances, handles the jobs, handles all the things you hate). OUR ancestors (don't mind the dogwhistle) did this for GENERATIONS, and modern society has failed you instead!

It's offering to break women out of all the parts of their real life that suck, and do it in a way that promises they're actually being better, being more admirable, more moral, more respectable, more correct, can feel good about, can feel proud about, as a Woman as Feminine as Mother as Goddess.

And the thing being promised does not need to actually reflect reality. It's a fantasy. It is not real. For every "beautiful demure barefoot" day, you'd be having another one covered in shit changing diapers of screaming infants with screaming children while your husband ignores you because it's Women's Work (take pride!) But that doesn't matter. It just needs to sound better than the reality they're living.

Then the men are targeted too. And it's the same in that it's getting to them by appealing to pride in their gender, but the messaging is different. It's "those finances are hard but ACTUALLY you're leveling up, you're grinding, you're finance maxing." It's hard but it's the kind of hard that is a challenge you can WIN at, boast about, post about, prove your manliness. Knowing cars, knowing home repairs, knowing taxes, that's your MAN pride, and you are so elite, you are so sigma, you are the envy of everyone, you are a masculine man. Women love you. Women will defer to you. Strong, respected, moral, loyal, unshakeable. Unlike those pansy men (mind the homophobic dogwhistling) who will whimper and cry like girls. You are better.

The shitty retail job is actually humble beginnings because you're minmaxing your way to financial success (bitcoin, crypto, investments). You can sleep with any woman you want as long as you're confident, and then you'll find one who understands how smart and confident and strong and protective you are and she will defer to you as her man. She will birth your children and teach them good morals and you will make it. Our ancestors lived this way for generations (dogwhistle) and modern society took it from you.

And with that messaging it makes it clear who the enemy in all this is - modern society that has convinced women to torture themselves with high education and terrible jobs, turned them Ugly with Ugly opinions and bad hair and nasty attitudes, yelping about "rights" and "equality" (pitting them against men! TAKING things from men!) All the while, society has been trying to emasculate men--replace them with women, make them soft and emotional, make them gay, make them WEAK. We've been made WEAK.

The naive women hearing this go "I'm not ugly! I don't hate men! I DO hate my job and my finances. I've been tricked. I'm actually rebelling by declaring my goal is to get a Perfect (White) (Christian) moral husband who will make all our decisions and protect me and our children." (And when she's financially trapped in an abusive marriage...? When she's suicidal with PPD but her husband won't touch that because it's Woman Hysteria...? And when her husband leaves her for someone who was as hot as she was 20 years ago and now she's figuring out finances, health care, taxes, bank accounts for the first time in her life...?)

And the men go "They've been TAKING things from us for too long! It's time to be men again! It's time to take pride! I am strong and confident. I am in charge! I never show weakness!" (And when he's got a gun to his head due to the depression he's never been allowed to talk about as Women Feelings...? And when he's financially ruined from a crypto scheme that stroked his ego and robbed him blind...? And when he's dead from alcohol poisoning and none of his adult children notice because no one's spoken to 'Dad' in 15 years...?)

How when my great-grandfather died, he left behind seven children and a wife who didn't even have an eighth grade education, and how his family starved. She was too frail to work the fields of their farm on her own, and she had no skills or knowledge to get another job. Her eighteen year old son, who was brilliant and was going to go to college on a scholarship to become an engineer, had to give up all of that to run the farm then join the military to try to keep his family alive.

I tell them about how my grandmother slapped me when I was a child and complained about having to go to school, because she knew that going to school for a girl was a privilege, and she saw what happened when women weren't educated. She made her daughter go to college. She made her promise to never, ever be dependent on a man, and she made me promise the same. She was a typical 1950s housewife. Suicidal, young, and cripplingly addicted to Valium just to get through the day.

You could go on T so your voice drops and start shaving so you don’t grow a beard. You could start HRT and then stop once you get the permanent changes you like. You can pursue sterilization instead of bottom surgery. You can get top surgery without being on T. You can go on E and work out a bunch to bulk out your muscles. You can pursue laser hair removal or electrolysis to remove unwanted hair, with or without HRT. You could even just start hormones to see if you like it and then stop if it isn’t to your taste.

No one should have to start over like this.

Losing 25 family members. Losing our home. Being displaced over and over.

We are trying to survive. But survival is not enough.

💔 I want to rebuild, to study, to create something better. 💔 But we need help to make that possible.

Even $10 could bring us one step closer to stability. If you can’t donate, please share this post. You never know whose heart you might touch.

Thank you for being part of this journey. 💙

Or the assumption that just because you can read well or you like math class, you’re somehow more EMOTIONALLY mature than your little kid brain is actually capable of being.

Mohamad has lost so much and now he’s drowning in debt trying to keep his sister and her five kids safe. He needs our help to bring them to safety and start anew.

We’re 25% of the way there (€5,030/€20,000). Every euro counts. Every share matters. Regardless of his name, skin color, or religion—this is about humanity.

Donate & share: Donation Link

✅ Vetted by Association:

@bilal-salah0 Here

Please, let’s make this happen. 🙏