women

1. did you eat the baby?

2. are you schizophrenic, louis?

3. and then what?

4. fuck, man, are you the zodiac killer?

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 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 👇🙏

The voice of truth for every Palestinian 🇵🇸

An Israeli soldier is seen firing randomly toward civilian homes and displacement tents in Gaza, describing the act as “for entertainment.”

At a time when civilians are being killed daily by stray bullets coming from the eastern areas of the Strip, violence is treated as a game wituhout accountability, and without humanity.

This is not an “isolated incident.”

This is not a “mistake.”

It reflects a reality where civilians are dehumanized and treated as targets.

Documenting these acts is a duty.

Silence is complicity.

After the ceasefire !!

Airstrikes targeting displacement tents in Gaza despite claims of a ceasefire and narratives that the war has “ended.”

For civilians on the ground, there is no post-war reality. There is no safety. Only changing methods of the same violence.

A ceasefire on paper does not stop bombs in the sky.

And declarations of peace mean nothing when tents are still being bombed.

Donations for GAZA!!

This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I'm distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I'm terrified of losing.

They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.

If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.

—-This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:

The voice of truth for every Palestinian 🇵🇸

An Israeli soldier is seen firing randomly toward civilian homes and displacement tents in Gaza, describing the act as “for entertainment.”

At a time when civilians are being killed daily by stray bullets coming from the eastern areas of the Strip, violence is treated as a game wituhout accountability, and without humanity.

This is not an “isolated incident.”

This is not a “mistake.”

It reflects a reality where civilians are dehumanized and treated as targets.

Documenting these acts is a duty.

Silence is complicity.

After the ceasefire !!

Airstrikes targeting displacement tents in Gaza despite claims of a ceasefire and narratives that the war has “ended.”

For civilians on the ground, there is no post-war reality. There is no safety. Only changing methods of the same violence.

A ceasefire on paper does not stop bombs in the sky.

And declarations of peace mean nothing when tents are still being bombed.

Donations for GAZA!!

This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I'm distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I'm terrified of losing.

They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.

If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.

—-This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:

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