Even now, in moments of joy, all we think about are the things we lost, like celebrating a child’s birthday, celebrating the new year, or even the simple pleasure of gathering as a family without fear of the Israeli death that hovers around us. 

The Israeli genocide on Gaza has made being a journalist a deadly job. But even the most mundane aspects of journalism, like tracking people down to interview, have become a monumental task in the face of mass displacement and mass destruction.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to practice journalism in Palestine, and about Palestine. I never doubted that through journalism I can help Palestine and the world be a better place, until last year.

Israel has been exterminating an entire people for more than a year, and no one is willing to stop this madness.

I used to write about the world as I saw it and the world that I wanted to see. Now as I bear witness to the extermination of northern Gaza, I can only write about the unfolding horror.

Palestinians have endured 76 years of the Nakba and now the 2024 genocide. Despite Israel and the West’s desire to erase our existence, we continue to declare, “We won’t leave.” 

I stayed in Amman for the first time in my life the week before the Allenby border shooting. It was strange to be in an Arab country not under occupation, but I also saw Palestine everywhere.

A family of 12 people lived through three horrifying days, trapped with the body of their murdered family member. I spoke to one of the family members and heard their story.

I was catching up on the news when I saw a face I recognized. It was the grieving image of my friend Muhammad, who was holding up the birth certificates of his newborn twins. They were both killed in an Israeli airstrike alongside his wife.

The story of a family whose house is demolished doesn’t end after the demolition is reported but only starts. As a Palestinian journalist, my job is to tell their whole story.