By lilly_en_route
Hi there. Salam alaykum. Shalom Alaykhem.
Is there anyone out there who still sees the bigger picture? Some days, I feel so alone in my love for all human beings. Does anyone else feel the same overwhelming hopelessness when scrolling through the news or their social feeds?
I’m starting this blog as a reminder: good still exists in this world. We cannot let hate win. We cannot let the devil—or whatever metaphor for destruction resonates with you—divide us.
Let’s be clear: you won’t find conspiracy theories here. There is no shadowy elite puppeteering us, no matrix or secret cabal to blame. What’s happening in the world is, tragically, a logical consequence of our choices as humans, the culmination of centuries of division, greed, and misunderstanding.
We were given this incredible planet to live on, but instead of cherishing it and each other, we destroy. We fight. We hate. It’s as if the angels were right when they doubted we’d be any different from the Jinn who roamed here before us, wreaking havoc on the same earth we promised to protect.
And yet, here we are, humans living out the same arrogance. Maybe worse. We claim righteousness, but our actions often tell another story.
Before you read on, let’s check in with ourselves. How are you feeling right now?
As for me, my blood is boiling as I write this. My soul feels raw, angry, and heartbroken. I’m trembling with the wrath of a woman people might underestimate, but I’m held steady by my faith, by God Almighty, and by the anchors in my life: my mum, my niece, my nephews. My mum shaped me into the person I am today. My niece and nephews constantly remind me to see the world through innocent, hopeful eyes—even when everything feels too dark.
And so, with that hope, let’s address the polarisation that is tearing us apart.
It feels like every other day, my social media feed becomes a battlefield. Not of armies, but of opinions. As the Israel-Palestine conflict rages on, the internet seems equally ablaze with debates, memes, and emotionally charged posts. It’s as though the entire world is trying to pressure you into choosing a team, like it’s some tragic, real-life version of dodgeball.
But here’s the thing: I’m not playing.
You won’t find me plastering my profile with a flag (unless we're talking about October 7th 2023, in that case I will keep advocating for the hostages when the majority seems to forget them and keeps brushing off the fault of Hamas), joining hashtags that reduce decades of pain into a catchy phrase, or signing up for the “Who’s the Bigger Victim?” competition. Yalla good-bye, no thanks. I believe in humanity and it’s way more complicated than taking sides.
"Pick a Side!" They Said. No, I Said.
The pressure to take a side shows no sign of easing. Friends, family, and coworkers alike seem to expect you to demonstrate your principles by declaring your loyalty. But here's my problem: neither side is wholly innocent, and both sides are deeply human.Choosing sides feels like simplifying a situation that’s messier than my kitchen after trying to bake sourdough bread during lockdown. (Spoiler: it wasn’t edible, and neither is this polarisation.)
Children Dying
A poem
Children dying.
People raped.
Kidnapped.
No respect for the dead.
No respect for the living.
A disgrace for humanity.
A lot of sins on a holy land.
The Need for Perspective
The Israel-Palestine conflict is one of the most devastating examples of how polarisation clouds our ability to see humanity. Everywhere I look, people are picking sides as if it’s a sports match. The rhetoric has turned into a battle of absolutes: “They’re all terrorists.” “They’re all occupiers.”
But what about the innocent civilians—on both sides—caught in this endless cycle of suffering?
Polarisation forces us to simplify the complexity of human pain. It’s easier to put people in boxes than to acknowledge the heartbreaking reality that there are no winners in this conflict. Only grieving mothers on both sides, displaced families, emotionally and physically abused hostages and endless generations of children who may never know peace.
The Real Victims Aren’t on Social Media
When we talk about the Israel-Palestine conflict, we forget the real victims: the civilians. These aren’t the folks crafting political statements or tweeting their outrage. They’re the ones living it—losing homes, families, and dreams, being held in tunnels, being caught in the rubble.
Imagine being a parent who has to comfort their child while bombs fall nearby. Imagine being a young person who dreams of studying abroad but can’t because checkpoints, blockades, or the sheer weight of conflict stands in the way. Imagine someone getting raped, kidnapped, attacked and taken away from your familiar surroundings. Now imagine someone far removed from this reality yelling online about how “your suffering isn’t as valid as theirs.”
That’s what this polarisation feels like—loud, disconnected voices drowning out the quiet, unimaginable grief of real people.
It’s Not About Being Neutral
Refusing to polarise doesn’t mean shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Oh, everyone’s equally wrong.” No. It means understanding that injustices exist, that historical wounds run deep, and that accountability is crucial.
But accountability doesn’t mean you stop seeing people as human. It doesn’t mean vilifying one group while excusing another. It doesn’t mean you forget that a crying child in Gaza or Tel Aviv isn’t thinking about geopolitics—they’re just scared.
Why Polarisation is Ridiculously Counterproductive
The thing about polarisation is that it doesn’t fix anything. It’s like arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza—heated, divisive, and utterly pointless in solving the actual problem.
Polarisation turns conversations into competitions. Who suffers more? Who holds the moral high ground? Rather than encouraging dialogue, these questions fuel echo chambers where individuals surround themselves with like-minded voices and shut out those who think differently.
The outcome is devastating: the erosion of humanity. Israelis are reduced to being labeled as "oppressors," while Palestinians are dismissed as "terrorists." In the process, we forget that both sides are made up of real people—people with families, dreams, and fears.
The Role of Humanity
Refusing to take sides doesn’t mean staying silent about injustices. It means refusing to let the conversation stop at blame. It means holding both sides accountable while prioritising the voices of those who just want to live—without fear, without bombs, without hatred.
What happened to our shared humanity? Instead of adding fuel to the fire, why aren’t we using our voices to amplify calls for peace, justice, and reconciliation? Calls for the hostages to released. Calls for rebuilding homes and towns in Gaza. Calls to build together as the family of Abraham.
Anchoring Ourselves in Hope
Sometimes, I remind myself that humanity’s goodness isn’t gone—it’s just quieter than the noise. There are people out there working for peace. Israeli and Palestinian families who come together despite the risks, activists fighting for justice for both sides, and ordinary people who refuse to teach their children to hate.
We need to hold on to those stories.
It’s easy to feel powerless in the face of such overwhelming tragedy, but each of us has a choice. Will we add to the division, or will we fight for unity?
So, What Do I Do Instead?
I’ve decided that my energy is better spent on empathy. Revolutionary, right? It’s not glamorous or Insta-worthy, but it’s perspicacious.
Empathy means reading stories from both sides. It means learning about the history of the conflict without cherry-picking the parts that fit my narrative. It means recognising that Israeli and Palestinian civilians have more in common than they’re often allowed to admit—they want safety, stability, and a future for their children.
It also means calling out injustices when I see them, no matter who’s responsible. Yes, that’s uncomfortable. Yes, it means upsetting people who want me to march in the same boat even though we're all already bellying up. But if advocating for peace and justice means making enemies of extremists on both sides, so be it - I'm happy to stay firm.
Finding Hope in Small Place
Despite everything, I believe there’s hope. There are grassroots movements where Israelis and Palestinians work together for peace, often at great personal risk. There are families who refuse to teach their children to hate, even when hatred would be the easier path.
These stories don’t go viral because they don’t fit the polarising narrative, but they matter. They remind us that humanity isn’t as hopelessly divided as it sometimes seems.
A Quick Guide to Dealing with Polarisation
Educate Yourself
Read widely, and not just from sources that confirm your biases. This conflict is complicated—embrace the complexity.Humanise Everyone
If your argument starts with “They’re all…”—stop. No group is a monolith.Support Humanitarian Efforts
Donate to organisations that help civilians on both sides. They need food, medicine, and shelter—not your Instagram hot takes.Resist Performative Activism
Changing your profile picture is easy. Changing minds is hard. Aim for the latter.Be the Calm in the Chaos
When discussions turn heated, try being the voice of reason. Or at least the one who doesn’t yell in ALL CAPS.
A Final Thought (and a Dash of Optimism)
The Israel-Palestine conflict isn’t going to be solved by me, you, or a viral TikTok. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless. By choosing empathy over polarisation, education over ignorance, and action over apathy, we can contribute to a world where conversations lead to solutions—not just louder arguments.
To anyone who’s feeling as lost or frustrated as I am: you’re not alone. Let’s not let the hate win. Let’s not let fear dictate our actions. Instead, let’s choose love, even when it’s hard. Let’s remember that, as short as life is, we have a duty to make the most of it—not just for ourselves, but for each other.
We don’t need more sides. We need more humanity.
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