 MCC, I am also Palestinian and I wanted to take a moment to thank MCC for inviting me to speak and for hosting this event. As the daughter both of us of Palestinian refugees, it's comforting and so reassuring to know that the community stands with Palestine and that their cries are not falling on deaf ears. I'm going to try to get through this without getting too emotional inshallah as best as I can. So I just want to take a moment to tell you a little bit about myself and my experience in Palestine when I was younger and what life has been like for Palestinians who have family that are still in Gaza and in the West Bank. So as for myself, my father's grandfather was driven out of Jerusalem and they fled to neighboring Jordan where my father was raised and eventually he came to the United States in the 1970s as a young man. My mother's grandfather and his family were also driven out but they fled to Rezda where they still remain today. For them, life in Rezda has always been unbearable, borders being controlled by a brutal military occupation where the food supply, travel, goods, water and electricity is intentionally restricted by the occupation. Growing up in cozy California, I never really was aware of the extent of the situation until I myself as a junior of high school went to Gaza. This was during the ceasefire I believe in 1999. My mother's father was terminally ill and she wanted us to meet him and she wanted the opportunity to see him as she came to California as an 18 year old, 19 year old girl getting married and she had not returned since. So it had been many years and she wanted to see him one more time and she wanted her kids to know him. I remember after an exhausting flight getting off the plane and being greeted by armed Israeli occupation forces, they wanted to interrogate my mother who was alone in the airport with her five children as to why she was coming into the country. That was my first experience living the injustices that we had only heard our parents talk about. Even as a young teenager in that moment being faced with this armed soldier and the way that he was speaking to us, I felt dehumanized, I felt degraded, humiliated and not having been used to this, I was very angry. And as growing up in American schools and being sold on from a young age the idea of freedom and justice for all, I looked the soldier in his eyes and I told him, I want to speak to your supervisor. What makes you think that you could treat us this way? And he looked at me so condescendingly, laughed as he continued to give us a hard time. My young self with a strong spirit of fairness and justice realized in that moment that this place did not play by the rules, this place was different. My time there, however, once we finally reached Gaza, was full of happy memories. I'm sorry. I remember laughing with my cousins as we hung up laundry together on the rooftop of my grandparents' home in Mkhayyem Ashat at refugee camp, sharing small meals together as a large family, the excitement of going and getting the popular shaped ice barad in the clear plastic cup from the local street vendor. But I also remember the cold showers, the very limited water supply, power outages for parts of the day, destroyed apartment complexes from the previous attacks from the Israeli occupation. And having to send our dishes to the local oven because there was no oven at the house, just at the end of the road they would send their dishes of what they wanted to bake for that night's dinner down the road so that he would bake it for them. Yet I still remember being so impressed that despite having so little, they were full of joy and iman and contentment. And now, all these years later, to see the horror unfolding on my TV screen, like a movie, unable to help them, unable to make an immediate difference in their lives, it has, me from a distance here, has made me physically ill. I can't sleep at night. I can't go to bed. I can't function. I wake up with headaches from thinking constantly. And this is not just me. All Palestinians living abroad who have to watch this feel this way. All we can do is think about them. How are my cousins doing? How are their children? What about the neighbor that gave us sugar when we were out when I was there in Gaza? What about the baker that we used to send our dishes to? Are they still alive? Are their kids alive? Are they under the rubble? Are their homes demolished? Power has always been limited by the occupation forces. But now, it is even worse. And days go by. We don't know what's happening to them. So we watch El Jazeera live to get the news covers directly from the reporters on the ground. And then just a few days ago, a week or so ago, the day that I fear finally came. And I could hear the reporter on El Jazeera screaming, muhayyama shaltah, muhayyama shaltah is being bombarded. Air strikes, muhayyama shaltah. Just where I was. And I can't turn it off. I just want to watch the news. I was frozen, glued to the TV, unable to function or do anything else. But scan the bloodied and named bodies flooding into the hospital, scanning the faces of people carrying them. Wondering if these people could be my cousins whom I haven't seen. Is that my cousin? Is that who they are? Hoping to see that they are okay and alive and praying to Allah SWT, not to see them on a stretcher and not having to learn about it this way. Alhamdulillah, my aunt in Denmark was able to make contact with one of my younger cousins on Facebook. And he told her that Alhamdulillah, the members of our family made the harrowing trip from northern Ghazda to southern Ghazda with extended family. Taking what little belongings they could carry with them. And now they're all staying with one family member, all crowned into one small space. No electricity, no water, no heating, no way to cook their meals. We've received one photograph because they don't have a way to charge their phones, they must conserve electricity. They can't even send us voice notes. Just a word here, a word there, maybe a picture. We received a picture of gray bricks with some shrubs and cardboard torn up to create a fire. Subhanallah, yet despite this years of occupation, years of living under siege and checkpoints and injustice in their homes, now Western media is trying to silence even us here with lies and AI generated images. Yet Subhanallah, their constant coverage of Palestine has only done the opposite. It has shown the world, the courage, the fortitude, the strength, the resilience. And as one TikTok user put it, the ironclad faith, the ironclad faith of the people in the Holy Land. Subhanallah, this wall-to-wall coverage, their millions of dollars that they're spending on their smear campaigns and lies against the people of the Holy Land has only made the world curious to ask, what is Islam? What is this unusual faith where a man could be carrying the bloodied bodies of his children and only say joyously, Alhamdulillah, with pure and full contentment? There's one thing they don't know about Razawiyah and our brothers and sisters in al-Daghun, the West Bank, is how extraordinarily strong their iman is, how content they are with Allah's plan and how tightly they hold on to the Allah's rope, how I've learned that they are just cut from a different cloth, excelling with sabr and jameen, a beautiful patience and resilience and teaching the world what it means to say la ilaha illallah subhanahu wa ta'ala, la ilaha illallah muhammad ar Rasulullah, and they bow to no one but Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. And despite not having even the simple comforts, the lights, the water, electricity, still every day, every time we get a voice, a message from them, always, Alhamdulillah, every night, Alhamdulillah, praying in masajids that have been struck by shrapnel, destroyed, they still go to the masjid every Salah, Alhamdulillah. My 22-year-old cousin, Mahmood, is a Shahid, Hafid of Qur'an, teacher of Qur'an, and all my uncle says is Alhamdulillah. He doesn't even want me to say to him, they say, they have submitted themselves fully and completely and their families to Allah's will. They know, they know their purpose. They know, they have their eye on the eternal prize of the Jannah. But do we? Do we truly remember, and live and support them fearlessly? Their strength and resilience does not absolve us from our obligations here to act and speak. As you know, the occupation's digital forces has seen the impact of the news coming directly out of Palestine and how it has shifted the public opinion. And they're doing everything in their power with secret meetings, with social media executives that they have access to, to silence journalists coming out of Reza and activists who repost their content. Just a few days ago, a page called Eye on Palestine that reports directly from Reza, six million followers was taken down without any kind of notice. Images and videos from Reza are being taken down. Accounts are being blocked. Journalists are being censored. They want to ethnically cleanse and commit genocide under the veil of darkness. Particularly in these last two days, as we were just discussing, they're not able to get it out. Even the journalists are having trouble with connectivity. So this is where we can step in, inshallah. We as Muslims here who have full electricity unlimited, can use our resources to amplify their voices, that we can stand with fearlessly and use our platforms, our voices, our draughts, and our night prayers like this to support them. So that when we stand before Allah SWT, we too can stand with a clear conscience and a pure heart and say that we truly did everything we can to support our brothers and sisters in Palestine.