Just weeks into Israel’s current genocide in Gaza, I spoke with my cousin as she watched the violence unfold from her home in Khan Yunis. She declared, “We are used to this; it is temporary and will pass.”
Yet behind those words lies a haunting truth.
My grandparents were uprooted from Yaffa in 1948, forced to flee as their lives were shattered by the Nakba, the Catastrophe, Israel’s violent displacement of Palestinians from their land, property and belongings, which continues to this day. That legacy of trauma has seeped into every corner of our family’s existence, teaching us to endure the unimaginable. My cousin’s resignation to suffering is a painful echo of our shared history.
Today, that resilience is being tested like never before. In our latest conversation, my cousin, now displaced and living in a tent in her hometown, spoke with a hollow disbelief: “Gaza is uninhabitable.” This has always been the objective of our Israeli oppressor: to turn Gaza into a wasteland, to erase a people. But let me be clear: Israel will not succeed. The call for justice is stronger than ever, resonating not just across generations but across the globe, igniting a flame of resistance that unites voices from all walks of life in a tenacious pursuit of dignity, freedom, and human rights for Palestinians everywhere.
As someone with family in Gaza, I have spent my life witnessing their incredible strength. For decades, they fought to live independently, thriving against insurmountable odds, resisting this existential threat. Before October 2023, and even in spite of the brutal Israeli siege and blockade that had choked Gaza for 17 years, my family and their community were brimming with ambition and hope. They innovated, created, and refused to be broken.
But when Israel unleashed this latest iteration of its genocidal assault, it was a brutal reminder of the lengths to which oppressors will go to crush a thriving population. This includes extending its state-backed terrorism into Lebanon, demonstrating a willingness to escalate violence and sow chaos in the region in order to achieve its settler-colonial agenda.
I’m also reminded, daily, of the extent to which governments of the globe will contort themselves to avoid standing up against Israel. For the first time, the weight of my family’s, and my people’s, suffering has become such a burden on my heart that it’s all I can do not to crumble under the despair.
The past 12 months have been the most exhausting of my life. Each day begins with a tense jaw and a pounding headache, likely fuelled by the guilt of my privilege. I can sleep in a warm bed, eat when I’m hungry, and drink clean water. Yet every morning, I check my phone, holding my breath, praying I won’t learn of another family member lost to this nightmare. I’ve already mourned too many.
It is shocking that one long and bloody year into this genocide, we are still pleading for the same basic demands: a ceasefire, humanitarian aid, an end to the occupation, and a free Palestine. The world has watched the horror broadcast in real time, yet our cries for justice fall on deaf ears. Since October 2023, we have organised weekly protests, attended by hundreds of thousands of people across this continent, all of them demanding, in one voice, an end to Israel’s violence and terror across Palestine. Yet our leaders hesitate to use the words “ceasefire,” “genocide,” or “sanction,” afraid to confront the brutal truth.
The truth is that the reported 41,689 death toll in Gaza is a fraction of the reality, with countless people buried beneath the rubble, families erased from existence, and others still obliterated, lost or ‘disappeared’ in the chaos of this ongoing genocide.
The suffering in Gaza and the West Bank is both unimaginable and all too real for our loved ones who are living through it, a daily reality marked by loss, fear, and the desperate struggle for survival amid relentless violence and oppression. For those of us here in Australia, we bear a pain all of our own. We continue the trudge of our daily lives, the weight of our grief and guilt on our backs, while persisting in our calls for mercy, care, an end to the genocide. In response, our government, media, workplaces and community silence us for speaking out, target us for demanding justice, and gaslight us by refusing to humanise our stories. The racism and double standards that we must confront on a daily basis are sickening.
We pray for our martyrs – innocent men, women and children stripped of their right to exist – and we remain the voice for those people that governments across the globe, including our own, choose to ignore. We must hold back despair, and demand justice for Palestine and accountability for Israel. We must work together to forge a future where hope triumphs, where life matters. We will not be silenced. We will not be erased. We will fight for our loved ones and for justice for Palestine, no matter the cost.
Ramia Abdo-Sultan
Ramia Abdo-Sultan is an Australian Palestinian with family in Gaza. Ramia is also an executive committee member of the Australia Palestine Advocacy Network and practising lawyer.