our lives must bend to make way for a better world.

october was a big month for me. it was the month that i would start an exciting new job, the month that i would drop a single called FAR, and the month that i would decide that neither of those things really mattered.

at the beginning of the month, i was preparing to put out a song and was overjoyed and excited to tell my small audience about it. i was really pleased with my strategy, and regardless of how the song would go on to perform, i was so proud of what it was.

but on the 9th of october, everything seemed to come to a halt.

that night, i saw a short animation on tiktok depicting an apparent conflict between two territories that had begun just a couple days prior. in the animation, a slow, sporadic stream of missiles flew out from one territory to the other, answered only by a small, singular missile. all of a sudden, an endless, overwhelming stream of bombs completely overtook the territory to the left - the territory labeled “gaza.”

it was a mild depiction free of any violence, but it was enough to raise a great deal of concern. i shuddered to think about how it was playing out in real life, but i needed to know more.

very soon thereafter, i saw a girl named plestia documenting her experience of displacement. the impact of the bombs that dropped around her were strong enough to blow her hair back, shake the foundation of the building she was in, and stop both of us in our tracks.

the sudden explosion from the video rattled my phone. i couldn't imagine how loud it must have been in person.

she looked into the camera with a silent, chilling smile.

i saw another girl, bisan, tell us that her community had been led into a trap by israeli forces. gazans living in the north were told to flee south, but violence awaited them there, in what they were told was a safe zone. bisan captured her own terror and dread on camera as she realized that she and her neighbors had been led to slaughter.

“i'm losing my mind, i'm losing my life, please do something.”

my feed was filled with image after image, video after video, of some of the most frightening, bone-chilling scenes i'd ever seen, real or fictional. i bore witness as people mourned their children, parents, friends, pets, neighbors, lovers. i watched as people dismissed and denied what was happening right before our eyes. i saw death in more forms than i even knew existed.

in a matter of days, the rollout for my song went from being a source of great pride to being a burden, a chore that was pulling focus away from what needed my full attention.

i stopped talking about my song almost as soon as it was released. i also stopped sleeping regularly. some nights, i was too frightened by what i’d seen on social media to find rest. it felt like i was “standing by,” awaiting what i thought would be immediate news of a ceasefire. i waited for days and weeks on end to no avail.

i abandoned my daily routines, thinking that i would pick them back up “in a few days or weeks, when this is over.” i started posting consistently on instagram and tiktok with informational content to “do my part” in keeping the conversation going. i hoped that others would drop everything to bring awareness to what was happening. i resented folks whose lives went on.

as the months continued to pass, however, i was introduced to more and more content creators from gaza - a band that uplifted the children in their community, parkour practitioners who entertained their neighbors, and regular everyday folks who took to vlogging their experiences of eating despite being starved, teaching despite their schools being destroyed, loving despite being despised, speaking despite going unheard, living despite being killed.

parts of me believed that to live life at a time like this was almost sacrilegious - but as i reflect today, eight months later, i’m accepting that my life cannot stop - but it cannot ever be the same.

i must live my life with the understanding that there is space to embrace and honor my art, my interests, my routines, my relationships, my humanity - whilst also allowing my life to be a resource to my global neighbors. living my life, contrary to what i believed back in october, doesn’t have to mean that i have to go back to how things were before i learned what was happening. my life has permission to continue, but a duty to change.

my life must bend to make way for a better world. and so must yours.

my hopes for this blog is to chronicle my process of bending - or, creating and inhabiting a life that has made room for liberation. i hope that you choose to join me, and that you consider the ways that your life can shift to make it easy for freedom to come in.