Abandoned by Western peers, Palestinian journalists remain committed to reporting on the genocide by Samaa Khullar

PLEASE TAKE ACTION RIGHT NOW AND SEND YOUR LETTER TO THE UN OFFICE OF THE SPECIAL ADVISER ON THE PREVENTION OF GENOCIDE AND THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT PROSECUTOR.

One day, this genocide will end, and there will be halls in universities all across the world dedicated to our martyrs. There will be journalism scholarships at the most prestigious universities in honor of the reporters who lost their lives. There will be awards named after those who were targeted and killed for their work. However, I don’t know if any of these journalists would want to be honored in this way. More than anything, I’m sure they simply would have wanted to live to see their children grow up. To see their homes rebuilt and their land liberated. Post-mortem recognition—no matter how beautiful the vigil or plaque—falls flat when we could have stopped the killing in the first place. 

“We, as Palestinian journalists, are not waiting for or expecting anything from the world. No praise or honor or anything,” Al-Batta said. “We are a reflection of people’s needs and their pains. And this is the ultimate goal of journalism.”

Continue reading at https://prismreports.org/2025/10/07/abandoned-by-western-peers-palestinian-journalists-remain-steadfast/

Editor’s Note: The Genocide Lives in My Body by Laura Albast

PLEASE TAKE ACTION RIGHT NOW AND SEND YOUR LETTER TO THE UN OFFICE OF THE SPECIAL ADVISER ON THE PREVENTION OF GENOCIDE AND THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT PROSECUTOR.


  1. Eventually, I had my panic attacks under control. I read about the two young women from Gaza — Samar in Cairo and Shatha in Istanbul — who died from heart attacks after losing touch with their families. I stopped turning up the sound on footage that came through my screen; I needed to see what they did to my people, but listening to the booms invited grief into my sleep. My aches, however, worsened. An ovarian cyst burst inside of me this summer, twisting and almost rendering my reproductive system dysfunctional. “Stress can do this,” the doctor told me. I had a doctor, a hospital, safety, privacy, medicine, water. How many women have that in Gaza?
  2. “May this be the biggest catastrophe,” my mother told me, propping up pillows on the living room couch for my recovery after surgery. 
  3. One of my writers in Gaza checks on me. She’s worried about me. Can you believe that?

Continue reading at https://www.palestine-studies.org/en/node/1656307