All that has occupied my thoughts since October 7th, everything I hear, see, dream, and feel — is what’s happening in Gaza. Knowing my family could be killed at any moment, I live with the gnawing fear that any buzz my phone makes will be the news I fear most. I am a Palestinian American living in Annandale, Virginia, but my parents and relatives are trapped in the blockaded Gaza Strip.
Their peculiar predicament places them in what is ironically deemed northern Gaza’s evacuation area, though escape remains a risky endeavor for many. The reasons for their inability to flee are multifaceted. The scarcity of fuel renders any vehicle moving in Gaza right now — let alone a car spacious enough to accommodate 20 people — a subject of suspicion. And venturing southward would lead them into unfamiliar territory, far from friends, family and the comforting familiarity of home.