This is not just a photo it’s our daily reality in Gaza.
I am a father of five, living under the harshest conditions imaginable. My children go to bed hungry most nights, and I feel helpless watching them suffer. There is no food, no clean water, and no safety.
I myself am injured from Israeli airstrikes, and my health is deteriorating. I’m in pain, physically and emotionally. I want to provide for my children, to see them smile again, to give them a warm meal — even just one.
What’s happening here is not a natural disaster. It is forced starvation. It is the slow death of innocent people, especially children, because they are being denied food and aid.
Your donation can change everything for us. Even a small amount can feed my family for a day. It can help me get medicine, water, and the bare essentials to survive.
Please, if you have anything to give, I ask you to open your heart.
Please Donate now:👇👇 👇
Hello everyone, my name is Elham' Abdelrahim I live in Los Angeles, … Elham Abdelrahim needs your support for In the Face of War: We Need Yo
Is your kind heart aching because of the famine that the children of Gaza ?
The war has returned after 15 months of death and genocide. We have never rested. We are losing people every day, most of them children and women... The bombing is everywhere. Our children are afraid...The sound is frightening.😭
There is no food, no drink, no medicine, the crossing is closed and everything is expensive.
‼️We don't want to die. Please donate and help us so we can buy food and medicine for my mother and save ourselves from death. Just donate. 😭🙏😞🫂‼️
My name is Freya Knarr and I live near Chicago, IL. Because Gofundme does not allo… Freya Knarr needs your support for Help Wasim's family r
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.
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
My name is Nadin I’m a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza who are trying to hold on — to hope, to our families, to any piece
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
The crossings have been closed for about two months and no aid is entering. Since the beginning of the war, we have been completely dependent on aid because I lost my job, which was my only source of income. Throughout the period of the crossing’s closure, we have been eating from the aid stock that used to reach us before the crossing’s closure. Now we have only one option, which is to buy expensive food. Or we will join the list of those suffering from famine within a short period So, please, my friend, share our post so that it may reach those who will donate to us. Donate to us as much as you can, if you can. I am struggling now to feed my four children. Please do not ignore us. I trust you.
vetted by @gazavetters, and (#287) on their list of verified campaigns.
Dear reader,
I am Hussam Al-Qazzaz from Gaza, and I am wr… nouraldin alqazzaz needs your support for Support Hossam’s afflicted family t
Please, my friends, do not let us suffer from this famine. We eat one meal a day and we may not be able to provide it in the coming period. Please donate to us for the sake of my four children, as I cannot imagine seeing them hungry I am unable to do anything. Please donate to us and share our post so that it reaches everyone.
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