To the students, staff and faculty of the Trinity community,

I write to you first to introduce myself — I am not Palestinian, and I have never had the privilege of being able to see their beautiful olive trees. Though I am not Palestinian, I write to you from where I have found Palestine — here on Trinity’s campus, in my beloved hometown of San Antonio. I write to you today out of concern, to call to the community that I have found here at Trinity but also as a resident of San Antonio, and as a human being who has seen the unprecedented and endless suffering of Palestinians. We can no longer continue with indifference and inaction — Gaza is bleeding. At the time that I write to you, the death toll in Gaza has surpassed 25,000.
Day after day, our privilege shields us so that we stand silently complicit in the bombing of universities and hospitals in Gaza. We sleep soundly in our dorm rooms as generational homes collapse on top of mothers, fathers and children, and as the sound of warplanes terrorizes Palestinian mornings, evenings, nights. At the time that I write to you, the people of Palestine have endured 75 years of occupation and displacement and over half a century of ethnic cleansing.
As we wait for our order at Einstein’s, we scroll through videos of Palestinian children struggling to find food. We are desensitized and our attention spans are monetized. Though food is scarce, we see Palestinian children share their rations with their younger siblings without hesitation. We are privileged enough to trust that tomorrow is almost always guaranteed and that there are ways for us to find our next meal. At the time that I write to you, nearly 500,000 Palestinians are facing famine levels of starvation.
Last semester, Trinity’s Muslim Student Association (MSA) hosted local San Antonio activists, and we listened. They spoke about their time in Palestine and experiences with hostile Israeli soldiers — of their fear, sorrows and losses. From all walks of life, we gathered and heard stories of the Palestine that they knew to be home. Though miles and miles away, we share the moon — Gaza is never too far to feel. The population of San Antonio is a little under 1.5 million. At the time that I write to you, around 2 million Palestinians are displaced.
We, as Trinity students have shown our willingness to understand and empathize with the Palestinian cause, and we must continue to do so in the days ahead. Last semester at MSA’s Teach-In on Palestine, we sat on floors and stood shoulder to shoulder, seeking guidance and knowledge. We have learned, now we must act. At a time when chalk art is seen as being too disruptive to be visible past 9 a.m., and we continue to talk about navigating difficult conversations without actually having them, the urgency of taking action is ever greater. We must never stop speaking of Palestine. We must align ourselves with the liberation of the Palestinian people, in every shade of black, white, green and red that we can find.
I write to you today out of hope that we find the strength to unfurl our fists into each other’s hands and use raised voices only to uplift and elevate those who have been silenced. We must take our knowledge and willingness to create change beyond campus, into our communities, city hall meetings and the streets. At the time that I am writing to you, Palestine has always been within us, and we have always had the power to create a world where one day we see a free Palestine.