I dream of safety, healing, and a future…please help me.

This is a legal charity crowdfunding campaign dedicated to supporting an innocent family trapped in a desperate survival situation due to the ongoing blockade and starvation crisis. The family has no access to stable food, medicine, or resources, and their lives depend on outside support. Every donation made here goes directly and exclusively to this family. No third parties or outside individuals will handle these funds — they are guaranteed to be transferred only to the people named in this campaign. Your contribution provides them with the essentials they urgently need to survive: food, water, medical supplies, and shelter. Please donate generously. Even the smallest donation can make a life-saving difference too. Together, we can give this family hope and relief in the midst of unimaginable hardship.

My name is Bilal Naeem. I am a 22-year-old Palestinian from Gaza. I used to work as a nurse, dedicating my life to helping the sick and wounded. I had dreams of building a future, of living with dignity and safety. But those dreams were shattered under the rubble of our home, destroyed by a war that knows no mercy.

Today, I have no job, no home, no safety. I am displaced along with my father, mother, brothers, and sisters. We were forced to flee our house barefoot, under heavy bombardment, carrying nothing with us—no clothes, no documents, not even food or water. We left behind our memories, our belongings, and my university degree, which I worked so hard for. In that moment, our only goal was to survive—to escape death.”

“Our home, where I was born and raised, where every corner held a memory, was reduced to dust. It was bombed just hours after we fled. Even if we wanted to return, there is nothing left—just ruins and ash.”

“We sought refuge in one of the UNRWA schools, hoping to find shelter. But all we found was a cold floor and nights that felt like death. There were no mattresses, no blankets, no food, no clean water. The children were shivering from the bitter cold, and we were helpless. We held them close to our chests just to keep them warm, listening to their cries through the night, unable to do anything to comfort them. Those nights broke me. I looked at their faces and felt utterly powerless. I wished I could give them just a small blanket, or a simple meal to ease their hunger.”

“We lived like that for weeks—then months. And somehow, we managed to find a mattress and a single blanket. For a moment, we felt like we had something. But it didn’t last. We were forced to flee again, leaving everything behind, again. We were displaced from one place to another, and each time we lost a little more—more of our strength, more of our hope.”

“Now, we have nothing. No shelter, no food, no clean water. We live day by day, hoping only to survive. I’m trying to find a tent, just a small tent, to protect my family from the burning sun and the freezing nights. We’re facing real famine. This is not an exaggeration. Hunger is eating away at the children’s bodies, the cold is killing the elderly, and fear lives in our hearts every second. We don’t know what tomorrow holds—or if we will even survive to see it.”

“We are treated like numbers, like statistics on the news. But we are human beings. We feel, we dream, we suffer, we deserve to live.

My message is not just my own—it’s a cry from Gaza, from the heart of the darkness. I’m pleading with anyone who still has a conscience: Do not forget Gaza. We are not asking for much—just the basic rights every human deserves: shelter, food, water, safety. We want to keep our children alive. We want to protect our mothers. We want to heal our wounded.

All we want is to live.