Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat.
Twelve-year-old Rashaf from Gaza isn’t a headline — she’s a haunting message from the rubble of international indifference. “I wish I could go back to how I was,” she said, her fragile frame trembling with a hunger that charity hashtags can’t cure and no Prime Minister’s photo op can touch. But hold on, let’s not pretend we didn’t see this coming. This wasn’t a collapse — it was a coordinated demolition.
You see, while world leaders are busy playing dinner party diplomacy and toasting peace with imported scotch, children like Rashaf are scraping floors for crumbs. Gaza’s humanitarian crisis isn’t a crisis. It’s a policy decision with a PR team so good, they could sell suffering wrapped in foreign aid ribbons.
And here’s where I’m about to crank the heat — because this isn’t just about Gaza. This is about the global political class sitting around their mahogany tables, discussing “sustainable solutions” while civilians become collateral damage in their sandbox of sanctions, bombs, and bureaucratic ballet.
Rashaf didn’t choose this. No child does. But she’s now a symbol of a world where compassion is compartmentalized and outrage is scheduled between brunch and the next economic summit. Starvation by siege isn’t new. It’s the oldest empire trick in the book — box them in, block them out, and then blame the victims for knocking too loudly on the wall.
Let me speak slow for the morally medicated crowd in the back — this isn’t a complex conflict filtered through an academic lens. It’s a power play, folks. And children, like Rashaf, are the pawns crushed under jets and whisper-thin ceasefires that last about as long as your attention span.
Where’s the moral high ground now, eh? Oh right, it’s probably under rubble — buried next to the U.N. resolutions collecting dust and the double standards bleeding through international law.
Now don’t get too cozy behind your comment sections and performative outrage. Because every “neutral” statement—every “both sides” slogan—is another slice off a starving child’s dignity. Gaza isn’t a chessboard. And Rashaf isn’t a pawn. She’s a child.
So here’s a thought: If your geopolitical strategy includes starving twelve-year-olds, your politics aren’t broken — they’re bankrupt.
Maybe next time, before the next summit convoy rolls through wearing tailored suits and empty promises, someone should ask: What will it take for Rashaf to say not “I wish I could go back” — but “I have a future”?
And if that question makes you uncomfortable, good. It should.
The game’s on — and I play to win.
– Mr. 47
