My name is Abdelmajed.
I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries.
Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope,
but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety.
Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
Vetted by @gazavetters
My name is Abedmajed Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with what remains of my once large and loving family.
I think it’s curious that sometimes we refer to non-online interactions or events as “in real life”. As if whatever happens online isn’t real in a way.
Could this be because, while engaging with an online medium, we are predominantly using symbolic cognitive representations (similar to when we read)? This way, because we would be “imagining whatever’s going on, we could possibly conceive those facts as “not real” or (at least partially) made up.
I don’t know, I’m ranting because this is really interesting.
How do I put this simply? I want to use the position I’m in and the resources I have been lucky enough to have access to, to help those people who haven’t had the same fortune. Basically, a purpose of human(e) cooperation and affiliation. At the same time, I want to devote myself to art, the visual and the musical. All of it while I’m able to afford, at the very least, food, water, a roof and some security.
Am I absolutely delusional striving for this IN THIS ECONOMY?
It’s important to remember, specially at times like these, that you are a living thing, you are not what a paper says you are, and you have agency to act on your own demand, to defend yourself, your identity and your dignity.
Hate, greed, money and power can get very far, but so can hope, care, understanding and unity. Those in power have been positioned there by a collective, and so can they be stripped from it by the same people. They are not “special”, they are people who need to be reminded precisely of that. We are what others make us out to be. What the people give, the people can take.
kianamaiart
areudirty
