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.
at a tribal finance conference listening to a quileute tribal council member talk about how companies have bought every house in forks, wa because it’s a tourist destination so they can’t hire people to work for the tribe
anyway fuck stephenie meyer for profiting so intensely off of racist stereotypes of quilteutes and all native people while never contributing a dime to help them solve the problems she caused!
if you have the ability, you can donate to their move to higher ground fund here: https://mthg.org
hate when i make a joke on a post and then look at the tags and everyone else is making the same joke it feels like op is a retail employee and im a customer. im sorry. you should kill me
really saying the quiet part out loud by revealing that your hatred of “AI” is intricately tied to your fervent belief in the redemptive and edifying powers of suffering—up to and including physical suffering—and the idea that students in particular ought to suffer
Unfriendly reminder: Generative 'Ai' doesn't help injured and/or disabled workers to get their job done painfree. It does the opposite, it pushes us to our limits by making us compete with a machine, that will inevitably replace our entire industry, starting with the weakest link; us. If I didn't have wrist pain before, I would get it in an attempt to not lose my livelyhood to a mediocre, environment killing algorythm. And my US-american comrades would not only lose their job to said algorythm, it would then also reject their health insurance claims.
If you care about workers, especially disabled ones, you must be anti-ai.
Except you can replace "AI" there with literally any form of automation and the argument will still be true. If your argument works against any and all forms of automation, it is not an anti-AI argument, it is an argument against industrial production.
Either the solution is to ban all machines, or the solution is to organize production in such a way as to eliminate the competition between workers and machines and raise the status of workers so that we can use the machines to reduce necessary labor-time rather than reduce the value of our own labor-power.
The real gold diggers are the men who expect you to take care of them, their parents, clean their house, wash and iron their clothes, give birth to their children and take care of them, manage their emotions, and on top of that, go to work and contribute 50/50 to the expenses.
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