My name is Rafah. I was born and raised in Gaza — a place filled with memories of love, loss, and resilience. In the 2008/2009 war, I lost three of my beloved sisters. I was just a child then, and although we lived through bombings, destruction, and chaos, I don’t ever remember going to sleep hungry, thirsty, or cold.

Yes, we had limited access to water. Yes, food was scarce. There was no electricity and no heating — but I still felt safe in the arms of my family. I never once cried myself to sleep because of hunger or thirst. That sense of safety, that love, protected me from the worst horrors of war.

Today, I live in Canada and am the mother of a beautiful 3-year-old boy named Karam. Every single day, I make sure he is fed, warm, and safe. I go to bed each night feeling grateful that he is healthy and happy — that I can meet his every basic need.

Being a mother is everything to me. It is a sacred duty, and it ought to be protected by laws, institutions, and rights, that ensure every mother can provide for her children. No matter what hardships we face, our right to care for our children should be recognized and defended.

So I ask: why is that right only reserved for some mothers and not others? Why do I, as a Palestinian mother in Canada, have the right to raise my son in peace — but mothers in Gaza are denied that same right? Why are they forced to dig their children out of rubble, to cradle their babies as they die, to bury their sons and daughters far too soon?

In November 2023, I received devastating news: 14 members of my extended family in Gaza were killed in a single airstrike. Seven of them were children under the age of 13. The youngest was still a toddler.

This personal grief is part of a much wider catastrophe. According to the Palestinian Ministry of Health in Gaza, as of May 27, 2025, at least 17,400 children have been confirmed killed since October 7, 2023. UNICEF Regional Director Edouard Beigbeder described it as “unimaginable horrors,” reporting that over 50,000 children in Gaza have been killed or injured during this period

UNICEF, 27 May 2025 – Source.

These are not just numbers. They are sons and daughters. Toddlers and teenagers. Future artists, teachers, doctors, and dreamers. Children whose mothers loved them just as fiercely as I love mine.

But today, if they are not dying from bombs, they are dying from starvation, dehydration, and disease. This is not just a humanitarian crisis — this is genocide. Entire generations are being wiped out, not only by weapons, but by the deliberate denial of food, clean water, and medical care.

As someone who once lived through war, I can no longer stay silent. I am pleading with every decent human being reading this: please help. Please donate.

Help provide food. Help provide clean water. Help give these children the most basic things every child deserves. Your donation could be the reason a child in Gaza lives to see another day.

I share my story not only as a survivor, but as a mother — in solidarity with the thousands of mothers who will never get to raise their children. I carry their pain in my heart. And I will never stop speaking their names, asking the world: when will Palestinian motherhood be honoured with the same humanity and protection given to mothers everywhere else?