𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

indian residential school survivors society (BC)

toronto indigenous harm reduction (ON)

native women's resource centre of toronto (ON)

water first (nationwide)

indspire (nationwide)

miskanawah (AB)

ma mawi wi chi itata centre (MB)

manitoba indigenous cultural education centre (MB)

native women's shelter of montreal (QC)

native friendship centre of montreal (QC)

first light (NL)

STIM - FRUTIGER AERO ROOM

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avatarsbalance’s atla appreciation (6/??):

My name is Sahar. Like any young woman, I dreamed of a stable and happy life. I was engaged to Mohammad, and together, we dreamed of building a warm little home where we could start our life. We spent years preparing our house, but just before our wedding, everything was destroyed in an instant by the war.

I was faced with a choice: to leave Mohammad in the midst of this chaos or to stand by him and begin our journey together, no matter how difficult it might be. I chose him. We got married, not in the dream wedding I had envisioned, but under the harsh reality of war. Our new home became a fragile tent, offering neither comfort nor security.

Today, I am seven months pregnant and living in constant fear for my unborn daughter. I am terrified of the world she will be born into—a world of poverty, hunger, and freezing cold. We’ve been displaced over nine times, carrying nothing but the weight of loss and the hope for survival. The house we dreamed of is now rubble, and the tent we live in barely shields us from the rain and cold.

How will I protect my daughter? We struggle to find enough food. Basic necessities like milk, blankets, and clothing feel impossibly out of reach. The cost of survival has become unbearable. Every night, I am haunted by the thought: how can I bring her into this world, knowing I cannot keep her safe?

I write to you with a heavy heart, pleading for help. I don’t ask for much, just the chance to give my daughter a safe beginning, a life with warmth and dignity. Every small donation can be a lifeline for us, and even sharing our story can make a difference. Please, help us survive this storm and rebuild our shattered lives.

To donate or support us, here is the link

My name is Sahar. Like any young woman, I dreamed of a stable and happy life. I was engaged to Mohammad, and together, we dreamed of building a warm little home where we could start our life. We spent years preparing our house, but just before our wedding, everything was destroyed in an instant by the war.

I was faced with a choice: to leave Mohammad in the midst of this chaos or to stand by him and begin our journey together, no matter how difficult it might be. I chose him. We got married, not in the dream wedding I had envisioned, but under the harsh reality of war. Our new home became a fragile tent, offering neither comfort nor security.

After we got married, I received the news that I was pregnant with my daughter, and I live in constant fear for my unborn child. I am terrified of the world she will be born into—a world of poverty, hunger, and bitter cold. We have been displaced from our home more than nine times, carrying with us nothing but the burden of loss and the hope of survival. The house we dreamed of is now rubble, and the tent we live in barely protects us from the rain and cold.How will I protect my daughter? We struggle to find enough food. Basic necessities like milk, blankets, and clothing feel impossibly out of reach. The cost of survival has become unbearable. Every night, I am haunted by the thought: how can I bring her into this world, knowing I cannot keep her safe?

After a long pregnancy filled with pain and fear, after nights without sleep, I finally gave birth to my baby girl. She was born in the middle of bombing, surrounded by destruction and poverty—not in a warm room, not in a safe place. Her first cry mixed with the sound of explosions, as if she was announcing her arrival into a cruel world she never chose.

I gave birth to her with nothing but my heart. I cannot promise her anything. Poverty surrounds us from every side, and the cold reaches her tiny body before night even comes. My baby and I are suffering deeply, not because we ask for much, but because I am unable to provide her with the most basic needs: milk, warmth, and safety.

When I look into her eyes, I feel strength. When I look at my empty hands, I break down in tears. I am a mother trying to save her child from hunger and fear, in a world that has shown no mercy even to the dreams of children.😢🥹

To donate or support us, here is the link 👇🙏

My baby sister is fighting for her life.

She is only a child, yet she has already endured displacement, fear, and serious health challenges.

Our family is doing everything possible to help her receive the care she needs, but we cannot do it alone.