WYAT Where You At ?!

Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.

I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.

Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.

On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.

We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.

A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.

Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.

Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.

The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.

Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.

We Don’t Know What Comes Next There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.

How You Can Help I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:

Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.

Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.

Yunho - Stretch

My fortress stood for four years, its walls a testament to the stones thrown in my direction. I had mistaken its deep shadow for strength, its cold façade for a resilient shield. I was still the unbending wall that others leaned upon, a constant and unfazed presence offering refuge and respite. There was never any room for my own vulnerability.

But it was a hollow structure, designed only to keep the decay out of sight. To feel the grit in the mortar or the chill of a crack was to admit a weakness I could not bear. So I looked away, and the darkness festered within.

It took the light of a new world to show me the old one, to finally reveal the ruin I had been living in. Only then could I see the subtle, creeping trauma that had become my very foundation. I began to understand the scars left not only by toxicity, but also by the silence of those who stood by, trapped in their own shadowed histories as they pursued a phantom of justice.

With distance as my lens and time my quiet teacher, a new road now unfolds. It is a path toward healing from wounds I am only just beginning to know. It is my chance to rise, and to finally begin again.

Alamat

BINI

Cup of Joe

SB19

“Charlie Kirk did not deserve to be assassinated, but I’m overwhelmed seeing the flags of the United States of America at half-staff calling this nation to honor and venerate a man who was an unapologetic racist.”