I Will Not Write About Gaza

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not reduce the plight of a people to 140 characters. I will not feed into the sensationalism. I will not dehumanize innocent lives by posting graphic images that will be sandwiched between happy birthdays and event invitations on your News Feed.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not tell you how my chest tightens every time I think about it. I will not admit that I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with an overwhelming sense of guilt that consumes me. I will not discuss how in the middle of every laugh, I think about those losing their lives; how when I’m surrounded by friends and family in the shelter of my home, I can’t help but think of those with bombs overhead.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not pretend to know how it feels to wage a daily fight for normalcy. I will not claim to fathom how it feels to be “nation-less”, to have your struggle televised worldwide and yet remain invisible.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not write about ceasefires, peace agreements, or two/one state solutions. I will not support, condemn, or criticize. I will not express my disgust at the response of the international community, or participate in the tokenism expressed by our Arab governments. I will not play the game that reduces the Palestinian struggle into nothing more than a pawn.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not tell you that the Palestinian conflict makes me lose faith in humanity. I will not admit that no matter how many victories we have in bettering this world, so long as an entire people is literally struggling to exist, this world will never know peace.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not disclose the violent thoughts I have at times, the instinct I have to support dire measures that some might take. I will not bother with terminologies – genocide, crimes against humanity, conflict, war, uprising. I will not dignify your attempt to label with a response.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not tell you how ashamed I feel under the darkness of night that I have done nothing to help my Palestinian brethren. I will not disclose my cowardice for not doing more, feeling more, shouting more, acting more. I will not continue to speak words into the void, and not realize these words into actions.

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not tell you how it pains me to see support for the Palestinian cause become an adolescent “phase”, with impassioned speeches and student rallies to go along with it. I will not paint you a picture about the discarded kaffiyeh and slogan-ridden picket signs relegated to the back of a closet once its outgrown

I will not write about Gaza.

I will not tell you how I feel with every bit of news. How my blood boils. How my eyes blur with tears. How I feel my fists clenching. How I stay glued to my phone/computer/laptop, consuming any information that comes my way. I will not tell you how I do all of this when I have the blessing of going about my day, living my quotidian while observing the conflict as a third party observer, hiding behind my screen(s).

I will not write about Gaza, because who am I to?

I will not write about Gaza, because I have not earned that privilege.

I will not write about Gaza, because my heavy heart helps no one.

I will not write about Gaza, because I know nothing.

I will not write about Gaza, but I hope you do.