1. United States
2. Letter

As I go about my day-to-day, navigating the mundanity of life, I find myself besieged by a profound sorrow that won't cease. It's the horrors I've seen, the images so shockingly stark and potent in their despair, they make a mockery of any composed silence. These aren't monsters perpetuating brutalities on far-off shores; but a nation, a democracy mirrored in our own image. A nation we fund. A nation we arm. Are the lives of Palestinian civilians less valuable than ours? Are their dreams for a peaceful existence not a right we are supposed to champion in the name of humanity? There can be no justification for voluminous tears flowing through the shattered streets of Gaza, for the wails of children deprived of innocence or the screams of mothers who've had their hearts ripped out. Yet, it seems we find reasons to justify every bullet, every explosion, each and every drop of blood shed in this ceaseless carousel of violence. The war drums have been beaten under the guise of security or sovereignty, but the reality remains: there can be no peace as long as we wield the bludgeon of might, instead of the olive branch of understanding. I implore you, let's stop practicing selective grief. The cries from Palestine are just as strident, their blood just as red, their hopes just as vivid. The cost of our silence, of our inaction, counts not in billions of dollars, but in the currency of human lives. If we continue to fund and arm this cycle of devastation, aren't we too complicit in the orchestration of this symphony of sorrow? It’s time we demand a ceasefire and call for the abolition of crimes against humanity. Let’s dismantle this bloodstained machine of warfare and instead, cultivate fields of fruitful diplomacy and respect for human life. Only then can we indeed brandish the torch of freedom and justice.