While many families around the world are gathering for iftar with full tables and safety, this is our reality.
Here, hunger is not just part of fasting. It is daily life.
We fast from dawn until sunset, but the hardest part is not knowing if there will be anything to break it with.
My family wants to observe Ramadan like Muslim families everywhere. I wish I could comfort them by saying that a warm meal is waiting at sunset, like every fasting person deserves.
My father’s health is getting worse. He urgently needs medical care and proper nutrition.
Watching him grow weaker while we struggle to provide even basic food is heartbreaking.
If you are reading this from anywhere in the world, please know that your support truly makes a difference.
Please stand with my family this Ramadan.
Help us secure food and medical care for my father.
If you cannot donate, please share
📌 Fundraiser vetted (#167 by el-shab-hussein & nabulsi), But we created a new GoFundMe page because GoFundMe suspended the beneficiary’s account on the platform, which put us in a very difficult situation.
Hi, I'm Raven, and I'm running this campaign on behalf of my friend Ayoush. Any money raised will go to her in full. Please note the campaig
Hello my friends,I am Ayoush from Gaza. You have supported me in the past to help my family, and support for my family is still available and ongoing, as they are in urgent need of your help and assistance.
But I also need your support to build a brighter future for myself.
During the war, I lost my job and my home. I lost my work as a crochet artist and my job as a teacher, so I am now in need of your help. Donations have become extremely limited, and I need to rely on myself and open a small, simple project that reflects who I am and my identity—
which is the art of crochet.I now need your support, and as an initial step, we need around $3,000 to $4,000 to start this project.
We need to build my dream together, hand in hand.You are the helping hand for me and for building my dream.
I am writing to you with a heart crushed by endless tears, from a hospital bed where fear and pain surround me. Every moment feels heavier than the last, and I am desperate for help to save myself and my children
My name is Suhaila, a mother of four children.
I am writing these words from inside the hospital, with a heart full of fear and pain.
My health is very critical. My iron level is 6,
and my little daughter Miral’s iron level is 5.
I urgently need donations to buy the medicine and save our lives
My husband is injured and unable to work. We have no income and no protection.
Our family lives in a torn tent, exposed to cold, hunger, and fear every day.
My health is very critical. My iron level is 6,
and my little daughter Miral’s iron level is 5.
She is so weak… her small body is fading, and I cannot afford the medicine or the food she needs to survive.
Right now, my daughter and I are in the hospital, waiting helplessly.
My other children are alone in the tent, hungry and scared.
We are not asking for luxury.
We are asking for treatment to stay alive
and food so my children do not die.
Please, do not let my children lose their mother,
and do not let me lose my daughter in front of my eyes.
Help us. Save us. We are slowly dying. 😭💔🙏
Donation link
Hi my name is Mickey and I'm raising funds for:
Suheila, who is a m… Mickey Dee needs your support for Support Suhaila's family in
Campaign checked by 90-ghost
💬 69 🔁 6676 ❤️ 1415 · My name is Suheila from Gaza 🇵🇸,
a mother of 5 children, living with my family in a tent after the war destroyed ou
My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again.
And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness.
Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out
Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help:
🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity
🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources
🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t
If you can’t give, please consider sharing.
Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours
Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war.
But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you.
Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring.
We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
