Gaza: The Cost of Silence, the Legacy of Courage

Can the fear echoing in the hearts of children who wake each day to the sound of bombs in Gaza be eased by a choice made by a consumer on the other side of the world?
 Perhaps simply by not reaching for an item on a supermarket shelf…
 By walking past a brand without speaking its name…
 Or by voicing opposition to oppression in the company of friends…

Even these actions, which seem so simple, remain for many among the hardest acts of courage. Because everyone’s fear is different.
 A seller fears losing customers.
 An employee fears losing their job.
 A student fears losing their scholarship.
 A father fears not being able to bring bread home to his child.

Are these fears justified? Yes, in many ways, they are.
 But do they make silence excusable? No.

Because what is lost in Gaza is not just livelihood—but life;
 not just employment—but the future;
 not just comfort—but our shared humanity.
 There, the price of silence is not as light as it is here.
 And for that reason, we have no right to see speaking up as a burden.

This is exactly where the idea of courage in doing good comes in.
 Moments when raising our voice against injustice is possible for everyone—yet still difficult in practice.
 Moments when the heart remains pure, but the tongue stays still.

Courage isn’t lighting a flame in the dark;
 it’s refusing to let that flame go out in the light of day.

So what is it that lifts some people to their feet while keeping others frozen in place?

Imagine a student—studying at a university in the United States.
 Perhaps they earned a scholarship through years of dedication and excellence.
 Now, they’re being threatened with losing that scholarship—because they chose to stand with Gaza.
 And in that threat lies not just the loss of financial support, but the loss of a future long dreamed of.
 Yet still—they do not remain silent.

Imagine an engineer—working in Silicon Valley.
 Their company, openly supportive of Israel, sends a direct message:
 "If you take a side, you lose your job."
 And yet—they take a side.
 Because they know that the cry of the oppressed is weightier than the security of a paycheck.

What fuels such courage?
 Perhaps a strong faith.
 Perhaps a view of life centered on the afterlife.
 Perhaps the fire of a conscience that refuses to be silenced.

And those who remain silent—why do they hold back?
 Perhaps fear.
 Perhaps a preference for comfort.
 Perhaps the belief that "nothing will change."

But this much we know:

Courage is not born of comfort, but of conviction.
 Those who want to act—find a way.
 Those who don’t—find an excuse.

Even a single drop of courage can grow when shared.
 Through a post we write, a brand we refuse, a sentence we speak, or a silence we choose to break.

Because great fires begin with small sparks.

Remember this:

If you stay silent today about Gaza,
 tomorrow you will have to answer to your own conscience.

And that voice—
 will be louder than any threat
 and stronger than any fear.