Iza

My name is Alaa, and I am 17 years old. I live with my family in a small tent Gaza — six of us sharing just four by six meters of space. We face hunger, heat, cold, disease, and deep uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring. But I hold on to my dream: I want to become a pediatrician. I want to heal others. Even now, I study every day in the ruins, attending classes whenever I can, despite the dangers. Education is my hope, my way forward, and my way to serve others someday. I love learning, and my studies are one of the things that keeps me going despite the circumstances we are in. My favorite subject is physics, but I love all science. Why We're Raising Funds Alaa has a small group of friends in the United States who speak with her and her family often. Together, we are organizing this campaign to evacuate Alaa and her mother from Gaza. Your donations will directly support: Safe evacuation costs (permits, border fees, transportation) Temporary housing and basic needs once we escape Continuing my education safely outside Gaza We need to raise $40,000 to cover the full cost of evacuation, resettlement, and the first year of living expenses while Alaa rebuilds her life.

They told you that Lilith was banished from the Garden of Eden. But they lied.

Lilith is the most controversial of all Jewish figures — and for good reason.

For six years, Jewitches has held her as a no-go topic due to the death threats and bigotry that resulted upon speaking up…but no longer.

Not because he had lost hope in life, but because he could hear the final breaths of his last daughter beneath the debris. Her tiny hands were holding his in the darkness, as if she were seeking comfort from him one last time. Yet the father, who had always believed he was their source of safety, was this time powerless to pull them out from beneath the dust and stones.

Nothing of his body was visible except his head. He stared into the faces of the rescuers with eyes exhausted by fear and helplessness, saying to them

“Leave me... my daughters are here. I do not want to come out alone.”

What heart can bear such a scene? What language can describe the feeling of a father who realizes he is losing his daughters one by one, while still holding their hands until they grow cold, unable to offer them rescue or even one final embrace?

How will your day continue after hearing this story? How will you sit at your table in peace, or laugh at something trivial, knowing that there was a father whose final wish was not to survive alone?

And the question that continues to haunt the human conscience remains:

How much pain does it take for the world to hear the cry of a single father there?