Today is Easter Sunday. A day that marks the resurrection of Jesus—the story of an innocent man, beaten, humiliated, and nailed to a cross in front of a silent, complicit crowd. And yet, we call this day holy. We call it sacred. We dress in pastels, go to brunch, and speak of redemption and light. But how can we speak of resurrection when so many children are being crucified in real time?
We’ve all watched crimes against humanity unfold in real time—broadcast in high definition, shared across social media, dissected in news reports—and yet the world remains silent. Worse, complicit. But what breaks me most, what will haunt me for the rest of my life, is the slaughter of children. Not just a few. Tens of thousands. Gone. Erased. Bombed, burned, buried under rubble while the world debates the semantics of war and “self-defense.”
Tell me, how do I explain this to my children? That the world let this happen? That governments, journalists, influencers—so many people—chose to look away, or worse, justify it? What do I say when they ask why no one stopped it? Why the people in power shook hands and smiled while children’s bodies piled up?
What terrifies me is not just what has happened, but what it reveals: we live in a world where a state can commit genocide on camera, with zero consequence. Where mass murder is streamed live and the perpetrators act proudly, with impunity, as if daring us to care. And too many don’t. Too many are silent. Too many are still scrolling, posting selfies, acting like this is all normal.
But it’s not normal. None of this is normal.
If we do not hold Israel and the USA accountable for the atrocities they have committed—then what comes next? What precedent are we setting? What lesson are we teaching? That if you’re powerful enough, you can kill whoever you want and no one will stop you?
That’s not a world I want to raise my children in. That’s not a world I want to even exist in. It fills me with rage, sorrow, and fear. But more than anything, it fills me with disgust—for the silence, for the apathy, for the people who somehow still manage to carry on unaffected.
So yes—I’m changed. And I question anyone who isn’t.
If what you’ve seen doesn’t shatter your soul, if the blood of thousands of children doesn’t shake you to your core, then I don’t know what you are. But you’re not human.
And if we don’t wake up and fight back against this horror, then maybe humanity really is dead.
No Comment