Resist, Resist, Resist! | Reflections on the Gaza Genocide (Part 3)

Written on March 24, 2025

It’s Day 534 of the genocide in Gaza.

Two more journalists, Hossam Shabat and Mohamed Mansour, were targeted and killed by the apartheid state of Israel as part of its ongoing murder campaign against Palestinian journalists who have been reporting the truth to the world.

This while mainstream Western media continues to sanitize or outright ignore the blatant crimes against humanity being committed by Israel and the U.S.

This after Israel ended a two-month “ceasefire” (not really a ceasefire, since it never actually ceased firing at Palestinians after the agreement was made) a week ago, resuming its bombardments across the Gaza Strip.

My heart feels heavy. Part of me didn’t want to release all the tears, because crying exhausts me and it feels like there’s so much to get done. But I see another photo of Hossam and the floodgates open.

Sometimes we need to feel into the grief, to move through it in order to return to the work.

And so, now I return to writing this to do my small part in what Hossam has asked of us: “… do not stop speaking about Gaza. Do not let the world look away.”

But what can we do?

Art by @sam.doingart @flyers_for_falastin

Within a social justice movement, supporters are called on to take numerous actions to help create change.

We’re also usually told what not to do or say, as well-intentioned allies can inadvertently harm the movement with counterproductive actions or comments.

It can feel confusing to know: What exactly should I be doing? Or overwhelming trying to take on everything. Or anxiety-provoking to sidestep making a wrong move.

One lesson I learned through the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement in navigating all the noise in the space is to center the voices of the oppressed group we are supporting.

When it comes to the Palestinian cause, this has helped me focus by continuously returning to what Palestinians on the ground especially, as well as those in the diaspora, are saying they need from their allies/comrades.

Some of the direct actions I’ve heard Palestinians ask us to do, in no specific order, include:

• Boycott companies that support the genocide and the settler-colonial state of Israel. (Learn more at BDSMovement.net.)
  
  
• Disrupt weapons manufacturers and block shipments that supply the bombs, arms and weapons parts enabling the genocide. (Learn about how Canada has been arming this genocide at ArmsEmbargoNow.ca. Also check out the Palestinian Youth Movement's [PYM] arms embargo strategy Mask Off Maersk.)
  
  
• Call, email and petition our elected officials to demand they use their political influence to help stop the genocide, end the occupation and free Palestine. (This includes how we use our vote in the April 2025 Canadian federal election – see VotesAgainstGenocide.ca and VotePalestine.ca.)
  
  
• Donate to groups providing aid on the ground or directly to families trying to survive the genocide. (Support at pcrf.net [Palestine Children’s Relief Fund], Islamic Relief Canada, @operationolivebranch and @connectinghumanity_, to name a few.)
  
  
• Protest at pro-Palestine demonstrations and events we want to disrupt. (Stay informed about upcoming protests at @palestinianyouthmovement and @protestcanada.)
  
  
• Speak out and share what is happening publicly—including on social media, as that is where journalists on the ground are reporting the truth while mainstream media sanitizes the genocide—amplifying the Palestinian peoples’ voices first and foremost. (Some journalists to follow include @hindkhoudary, @wizard_bisan1, @belalkh, @mariambarghouti, @m.z.gaza and @wissamgaza.)
  
  
• Educate ourselves and others on the history of the Palestinian struggle and cause. (Check out PYM’s reading list, the Where the Olive Trees Weep’s resources page, and @letstalkpalestine for starters.)

Important note: After a few months into this current iteration of the genocide, I started hearing more voices questioning the efficacy of some of these actions. I discuss this more in Part 6, but the summary for now is that without a strong already-laid foundation of organizing, some of these mobilization efforts may not be as well supported and effective as they could be. I’m not saying don't do them, but I agree we must build strategy and structures for our movements vs. focusing only or primarily on more individual, immediate actions.

How can I do it all?

Photo by @gtakitties @ceasefire.meow

The second guiding lesson I've learned, also through BLM, is that we as one person can’t be everything to a movement. Trying to do every single action asked of us will likely lead to burnout, and fast.

Remember that we do not exist or act in isolation. Instead, imagine us as a “tapestry of collective resistance” (@tiffanywongart).

For example, when some of us are resting, others may be organizing and taking action. When those folks need to regroup, they might take their turn to rest while others step back in.

I’m not saying this happens in some orderly fashion, where we ask someone to sub in for us while we catch our breath on the bench—although, perhaps in some contexts, it could mean something that tangible. But more generally, we may need to trust that the collective has each other and we’re not carrying everything alone on our shoulders.

This collectivist approach may also mean unlearning patterns of acting reflexively from a place of saviorism, self-sufficiency, etc., while learning how to be more interdependent and relational with each other.

Another way to look at the collective tapestry is that it’s made up of people playing different roles in the movement.

It can help to identify: What skills, talents, capacities and privileges can I leverage and contribute to the movement? What are my spheres of influence?

I have always seen myself in a communicator role, partly because I have the skills and passion for writing in particular (and I podcast), and also because I believe I have a higher tolerance than most for initiating uncomfortable conversations.

I’m also aware of the privilege I have as an Asian (Korean) person relative to other racial groups under the system of white supremacy. For example, due to the model minority myth, I will likely be seen as more palatable when I say the exact same thing as, say, an Arab or Black person might in calling out racism or a genocide. I can and want to use that privilege to fight for the liberation of all people.

Another role I tend to take on is being a space holder for others’ emotional experiences, which is an essential support for people in any movement (see Part 1). Now, as a therapist-in-training, I also see it as my responsibility to speak out and be a facilitator of change in one of my spheres of influence, the therapy field (more in Part 5).

My capacity to give financially to a cause has fluctuated over time. When I worked as a freelancer for a few years and entered lulls with projects, or while I’m in between full-time jobs as I am now, I’d donate less. When my income is steadier, I give much more.

What might also change, besides our skills, capacity and privileges, are the movement’s priorities and calls to action. In the vein of Assata Shakur’s approach, I believe it’s important for any movement (or individual within a movement) to be thinking critically about what is working and what isn’t.

How we stay humble and shift when the direction of our efforts needs to change is perhaps another story. But remember we are always learning, adapting and evolving in life, and doing so within our activism work is no different.

Are we supported enough to take action?

Photo by George Azar @jirjiazar

I often talk about the need to find our supports in doing activism work.

That’s because much of what we are asked to do will not feel comfortable. Some of it will feel downright threatening in our bodies, whether that sense of danger is real or perceived.

This is understandable.

Many, if not all of us, have generations of trauma stored in our bodies that have taught us we will face repercussions if we attempt to confront the powers that be.

And we continue to watch in real-time as those who speak out and take action are fired from jobs, doxxed, attacked, arrested, imprisoned or even killed.

And yet, we must find it in ourselves to help stop the cycles of silence and complicity in people’s oppression.

As with any kind of significant behavior change, when we attempt to shift from our long-standing, well-known way of doing things to a new, unknown way of doing things, we may find it challenging to sustain the new path if we quickly jump from what might feel like one extreme to another, especially if we don’t have enough supports in place while making that transition.

I’d say this is particularly the case when that new way of being not only diverts from the status quo but also threatens it.

My suggestion? Let’s be real with ourselves about why we avoid taking certain steps toward collective liberation, ask ourselves if we want to endeavor taking those steps, then assess what supports we’d need to make that forward movement possible.

What might those supports include?:

•  
• Doing our internal anti-racism/anti-bias work
• Unlearning the ideals and values of colonialist, capitalist, white supremacist, cisheteropatriarchal culture (e.g., that relationships are transactional, only certain groups matter,  

My default belief is that everyone at their core has empathy and love for all their fellow human beings (unless they’re an actual psychopath). I’m talking about the kind of fierce love that compels one to protect another the way they’d instinctively jump to their own child’s defense if their little one was being attacked.

When we don't see folks taking action from that place, my belief is there’s work to do...

And don'

@hossam_shbat

Of course, another source of strength is to look to those brave souls who have taken action when the risk to their lives far surpass the risks we face, particularly us in the West leading relatively privileged lives.

With that, I leave you with 23-year-old Hossam Shabat’s final message, shared by his team on March 24, 2025:

“‘If you’re reading this, it means I have been killed—most likely targeted—by the Israeli occupation forces. When this all began, I was only 21 years old—a college student with dreams like anyone else. For past 18 months, I have dedicated every moment of my life to my people. I documented the horrors in northern Gaza minute by minute, determined to show the world the truth they tried to bury. I slept on pavements, in schools, in tents—anywhere I could. Each day was a battle for survival. I endured hunger for months, yet I never left my people’s side.

By God, I fulfilled my duty as a journalist. I risked everything to report the truth, and now, I am finally at rest—something I haven’t known in the past 18 months. I did all this because I believe in the Palestinian cause. I believe this land is ours, and it has been the highest honor of my life to die defending it and serving its people.

I ask you now: do not stop speaking about Gaza. Do not let the world look away. Keep fighting, keep telling our stories—until Palestine is free.’

— For the last time, Hossam Shabat, from northern Gaza.”