By Dear Gazan Men,
It has been 126 continuous days watching your suffering on our tiny portable screens. In between funny videos and insightful tweets, dinner with family, and peaceful walks, we’ve been witness to atrocious crimes committed against you and the Palestinian people. We, resting in the Western world, have the ability to scroll past your suffering, while you have no choice but to live it.
The pain we feel is minuscule in comparison to the pain you feel. We have cried for you, yelled at protests, and signed a million petitions. We have continuously disrupted workplaces and higher education, demanding Zionists to be stripped of their power within institutional hierarchies. And yet, our efforts are nothing compared to the unparalleled strength and action you have whilst living in Gaza.
Society and Western media have exhausted themselves attempting to dehumanize and villainize Middle Eastern men — deducing them to violence and barbarity. And yet, with the apartheid and ethnic cleansing on your land, a time in which all civility is expected to be lost, you have shown us true kindness and bravery. We thank you for keeping your faith and virtue in the most trying, gruesome of times.
To Wael Dahdouh, you are a hero to millions and a journalist who captures the true essence of journalism — truth and perseverance. Despite losing your wife, daughter, and two sons, you continue to report veracity. You continue to hold the microphone, whilst wearing the “PRESS” vest even mere hours after the death of your son. Despite tasting a sliver of peace in Doha, Qatar for medical attention following an Israeli attack that injured your hand, you are committed to returning to Gaza to fulfill your role as a journalist until Palestine is free. Thank you for your dedication to the truth, while comforting your remaining children in your arms. You are forever ingrained in our hearts and minds.
To Hamza Dahdooh, thank you for your unwavering hope for a free Palestine, your continued coverage of the genocide, and for showing what true love is. Despite being so young, you loved your father dearly, frequently posting him on social media. Your final post before your painful death was a photo of your father Wael reporting with an injured hand. You wrote, “Coverage continues despite the huge wound…” and your father continued to report following your death, with a wound that will long exist in his heart.
To Motaz, you have suffered so much pain and fought as much as you could. Your fight continues after reaching Doha, Qatar. You spent over one hundred days capturing gruesome pictures and videos of death and destruction while losing your loved ones. It is true that pictures hold a thousand words. There are not enough words in the English language that could hold up to the millions of words that you have shown through your photojournalism. We see that your dreams feel distant, and we pray that one day, you feel deserving of peace because you are more than worthy of happiness. You are the GQ 2023 Man of the Year, but the title is an understatement — your worth is insurmountable.
To Khaled Nabhan, grandfather of Reem and Tariq, your story broke the hearts of millions around the world following the deaths of your grandchildren. The two children lived with their mother and grandfather whilst their father worked abroad. Khalid shared a birthday with three-year-old Reem. Maysa, Khalid’s daughter, had slept that night with her children in her arms. She woke to a heavy object that had fallen on her chest, and Reem screamed underneath the rubble. Khalid loved his grandchildren and brought them tangerines because the fruit they asked for was not available during the genocide. He held the unpeeled tangerine in his hand and fixed Tariq’s hair prior to his burial. He called Reem, the “soul of his soul.” His tender care and love are captured in artwork around the world as supporters draw Khalid and Reem side-by-side.
It is about time that Palestinian men were shown the same attention that women and children get.
Here is why.
To all Palestinian and Gazan men fighting the occupation, thank you for your resilience. The whole world is watching your strife, and we are witness to your pain and suffering. We have seen countless videos of Palestinian men entertaining and comforting disturbed children and shielding women whose hijab has fallen off as they are pulled from collapsed buildings.
In a society that dehumanizes Arab men and labels them as strict, uncaring, and terrorizing, you have shown your Arab counterparts, and the non-Arab men, that Middle Eastern men are compassionate, protective, sacrificing, and strong.
Our dearest Gazan men, words are insufficient in expressing our gratitude for your character and imaan. And yet, we still say thank you.
Sincerely,
Your admirers