#amarica

Happy Juneteenth !

Several Democratic figures joined the demonstrations in solidarity, while Republican leaders criticized the gatherings, labeling participants as “communists” and “Marxists.”

House Speaker Mike Johnson remarked, “I encourage everyone to tune in — we’re calling it the ‘Hate America’ rally — happening on Saturday,” in a statement reflecting sharp partisan division over the movement.

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To who can hear my voice in the midst of this noise,

My name is Abood, a young man from Gaza. I am 24 years old, but I feel that the years I have lived are twice as many. I do not write to complain, as complaining here has become a luxury we do not have. I write because I want to tell my story, one story among thousands of stories being blown away by the wind in this place that has become featureless.

I studied three majors; Electronics engineering, secretarial, and design. I had many dreams, just like any young man my age. I wanted to make something for myself, for my family, for my city. But successive wars did not leave me a chance. Every time I started something new, the war would come and steal from me what I had built.

I was displaced three times. I used to live in Tal al-Hawa, then the war forced us to move to Rafah, and from there to Khan Yunis. Now, I am in a tent in a displacement camp, with my sick mother and my little brother who still does not know the meaning of all this devastation. We lost everything. Our home, our memories, even the safety that we clung to despite everything.

My father died ten years ago due to illness. I couldn't help him. I couldn't even get him the treatment he needed. Today, I find myself unable to provide a living for my mother and brother. In this harsh winter, we fight the cold with little firewood and thin blankets. At night, I frequently wake up to the sound of winds threatening to uproot our tent. I sit and watch my sleeping mother and brother, wondering: How do I protect them?

I worked as a volunteer for a while distributing aid and food to displaced people.

I'm not asking for much. I don't dream of a palace, a car, or a luxurious life. All I want is to see my mother smile, and hear my little brother laugh. I want to provide them with food and shelter. I want to go back to school, to work, to life.

This message may not reach me. You may arrive and find no one to hear it. But I write it because hope is the only thing I have left. And maybe, somewhere, there is someone who can help us survive.

With respect,

Sicko parolee rapes NYC woman in horror attack weeks after prison release: ‘Give it to me or I’ll kill you’ A sicko parolee raped a stranger in a terrifying attack on the streets of the Bronx early Tuesday — just weeks after he walked out of prison, police said. Nicholas Dejesus, 42, grabbed the 33-year-old woman’s neck from behind as she stood on Broadway near West 230th Street in Kingsbridge…