A Family in Gaza Is Drowning and No One Is Reaching Back

Seven weeks. Twenty dollars. A sick mother, two hungry boys, and a tent that floods every time it rains.

I usually write for mothers. I write about their strength, their exhaustion, their impossible choices. But today I am writing something I never wanted to write. Something that feels like sitting across from you, looking you in the eyes, and saying: please. Please don’t scroll past this.

This is about Majdy.

And his family is disappearing into the silence of a genocide.

Majdy is a young man in Gaza who lost his father to Israel's genocide. He is now the only provider for his mother and two younger brothers. There is no work. There is no income. There is no safety. There is only survival, and even that is slipping away.

He started a fundraiser seven weeks ago.

In all that time, he has received twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars in seven weeks.

For a family of five.

In a war zone.

In a tent that floods every time it rains.

When I say floods, I mean water rising under their feet. I mean blankets soaked. I mean cold that settles into their bones. I mean a sick mother who cannot stay warm, cannot stay dry, and cannot stay alive without medication that costs more than this family has seen in nearly two months.

Majdy is not asking for comfort. He is not asking for anything beyond the bare minimum required to keep his family alive. Food. Medicine. A tent that doesn’t collapse. Clothes warm enough for two growing boys who have already lost too much.

He wrote:

“There is no work in Gaza. I am the only provider. This link is our only source of income. Our situation is very hard. Please help or share.”

There is no performance in that. No strategy. No manipulation. Just a son trying to keep his family alive while the world scrolls past.

And all of this is happening while Israel continues to bomb Gaza, continues to target families, continues to kill babies whose names we will never know. The genocide has not stopped. The bombing has not stopped. The suffering has not paused just because the world has gotten quieter.

Majdy’s family is not a headline. They are not a statistic. They are a mother without medicine, two boys without food, and a son who is doing everything he can with nothing.

Here is what your donation provides:

• 300 dollars for a waterproof tent that can protect five people

• 300 dollars for warm clothes for two boys and their mother

• 150 dollars for one month of life-saving medication

• 45 dollars for one day of food and clean water for the entire family

This is not symbolic. This is not abstract. This is direct survival.

Majdy’s fundraiser:

https://chuffed.org/project/mjdy

His Twitter, where he documents their daily struggle: mjdy___12k

If you cannot donate, please share. Please amplify. Please refuse to let this family disappear into the silence.

I know this community. I know the mothers who read me. I know the people who care. And I am telling you with all the helplessness and urgency I have: this family needs us. Not later. Now. Please show them the same generosity as you have shown the other families. Thank you.