It’s strange to spend Christmas under the summer sun in Australia.
The heat clings to your skin, cicadas buzz like an endless alarm. It feels surreal, almost fitting, to celebrate the season of light in a dark world so upside down.
A world where billions gather with their families,
Exchanging gifts, laughing under trees strung with lights. Celebrating the birth of a child who preached love and justice.
And yet, in the holy land where that child was born, We’re watching love and justice burn to ash.
Every day, a new massacre.
Every day, more children buried.
Hospitals bombed. Ambulances targeted.
Entire families wiped off the map.
Genocide unfolding in real-time,
Supported by the United States,
Cheered on by much of the West.
And what’s most perverse?
So many celebrating Christmas this week,
Raising glasses to peace and joy,
While justifying the erasure of an entire people—
The people of the holy land.
It’s hard not to feel the weight of it here in Australia, on this land that knows the pain of genocide, the loss of language, culture, entire nations. I’ve met so many beautiful souls here, but the echoes of what was done to the native people— They linger, they haunt.
Shame on us for learning nothing.
Shame on us for letting it happen again.
So this Christmas, don’t just celebrate.
Reflect. Ask yourself how we got here.
Ask yourself how we can undo this.
And make your Christmas wish a bold one:
Abolish Zionism. Hold Israel accountable.
Because what’s the point of celebrating love and justice if we turn away from our brothers and sisters when it matters most?
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