Palestine belongs to my best friend
Growing up, I was surrounded by those who sung praises of Israel. I learned of its holiness, its connection and value to Christianity, its power and righteousness. And then, when I drifted away from religion, Israel too fell off my radar. I'm ashamed to say I never new much of what was going on until October 7th. I'm ashamed that I never looked or learned even after I began to develop left-leaning beliefs. But now I know so much, and I've seen so much. I've seen babies stuck under rubble. I've seen malnourished, dirty children clinging barely to life. My TikTok FYP is littered with ghoulish, tired-looking Palestinians begging for the outside world to help them escape, and all I can do is click a few buttons. It's overwhelming. But so is getting bombed everyday, isn't it? Little did I know a victim of Israel lived right across the street from my childhood home. When I was in first grade, I asked a random boy at school where he lived. Being a pair of ...