Growing up in a mixed Arab and Jewish family, I was immersed in vibrant culture, food and traditions. While I cherished my heritage, I also struggled to reconcile my identity with the often-negative portrayals of Arabs in the mainstream.

As a first-grader when the Twin Towers fell, I especially felt the weight of this stigma. I hid my identity from classmates and teachers, trying to escape the dehumanization of Arabs that shaped the narrative around me. The media played a significant role, portraying Arabs as threats or extremists, which not only justified war in the Middle East but also instilled a pervasive fear that affected communities like mine.

This dehumanization, I now realize, mirrors the dehumanization of Palestinians that enables the ongoing war crimes and oppression in Gaza. Gaza, a densely populated region described by the U.N. as an open-air prison, bears witness to this reality. Its inhabitants, refugees whose villages were destroyed or stolen, live under siege. Walled in, Gazans are denied freedom of movement, their former homes visible but occupied by settlers.

Since its creation in 1948, Israel has implemented policies that amount to apartheid. The U.N. and Israeli historians like Ilan Pappé have meticulously documented the orchestrated theft of land and destruction of villages. Palestinians endure unequal access to food, water, electricity and fuel, compounded by checkpoints that dominate their lives. Notably, Israeli officials have admitted to calculating food rations to ensure Palestinians are “on a diet” but receive enough calories to avoid starvation.

The indiscriminate bombing of Gaza exemplifies the horror. Images of children — their bodies charred and torn apart, their lives extinguished — should shake the conscience of anyone who values humanity. Parents dig through rubble to retrieve the remains of their children. To see this and remain silent is to be complicit.

Some argue the debunked claim that Hamas uses civilians as human shields, citing this as justification for the bombardment of hospitals, schools and refugee shelters. But let me ask: If Hamas were hiding under an Israeli hospital, would anyone advocate bombing it, killing doctors, nurses and patients? If there were a shooter in a school, would anyone suggest blowing up the building with children inside? Of course not. These arguments only hold weight because of the dehumanization of Palestinians.

International law is clear: The targeting of civilians and destruction of hospitals and schools amounts to war crime. Yet Israel violates these laws with impunity, its actions shielded by American support and media complicity. The narrative of “self-defense” is weaponized to justify atrocities.

America’s unconditional support for Israel does more than enable these atrocities — it endangers us all. By backing Israel, the U.S. isolates itself on the global stage, fostering resentment and extremism. This cycle of violence and complicity undermines America’s moral authority and makes us less safe, as acts of injustice abroad reverberate and breed insecurity at home.

Politics can be messy, but this is not complicated. Children are being deliberately starved and innocent people are suffering. We must urge our representatives to sanction Israel, impose a weapons embargo and demand accountability. If we do not act, this will be a stain on our collective conscience, a dark chapter in history where we stood by as children were slaughtered and entire families obliterated.

We must acknowledge our failure to protect the Palestinian people and commit to securing their rights. This violence will not bring peace to Israel. The only path to peace lies in ending the occupation. This is a moment for moral courage, for standing on the right side of history.

If you’re ever wondering what you would have done during the Holocaust, ask yourself what you’re doing today. The time to act is now.