Thirty-one. That’s how many of my extended family members have died in Gaza since October 7. Thirty-one including my sweet and sociable 12-year-old niece, Farah; uncle Riyad, who had comedic inclinations; aunt Zainab, who loved feeding everyone; cousin Heba, who was incredibly kind despite being the sassiest person I ever met; uncle Abdullah, a retired medical doctor who helped save hundreds of lives during the Second Intifada in Rafah; and cousin Yahya, with whom I watched endless Japanese anime cartoons as a child while growing up in Gaza.
I feared this outcome the moment I heard the news of Hamas’s attack on Israel that day. I was horrified by all aspects of the October 7 massacre, including the glorification of the attack, particularly by activists
