A Sad EID
Date
March 31, 2025
Eid is here. But this year, it doesn’t feel like Eid.
Eid is supposed to be about joy, about gathering with family, children running around in new clothes, the scent of ma’amoul filling the air, and warm embraces after prayer. It’s meant to be a time of togetherness, gratitude, and celebration. But how can we celebrate when Gaza is bleeding? When families are burying their loved ones instead of breaking bread together, When the sound of laughter has been replaced by the sounds of bombs!
This year, Eid is heavy. It carries the weight of grief, of loss, of injustice. It carries the pain of mothers who will never hold their children again, of fathers who have nothing left to give, of children who no longer have a home to return to.
On the first day of Eid, Gaza was bombed AGAIN. Children who had been dressed in their new Eid clothes were killed before they even had a chance to celebrate. Parents who had saved what little they had to bring joy to their little ones ended up wrapping them in burial shrouds instead. How do we reconcile this horror with a world that continues to look away?
And then there’s the helplessness we carry, the unbearable guilt of being safe while they are not. Of having food while they starve. Of waking up in bed while they sleep under the open sky. We try to speak, to amplify their voices, but it never feels like enough. The weight of our privilege sits heavy on our chests, suffocating, unshakable.
For so many, this Eid is spent in tents, in overcrowded hospitals, in the rubble of what was once a home. There are no new clothes, no feasts, no hugs from loved ones who are now only memories. There is only survival. Only the hope that maybe, just maybe, the world will finally act against the brutality unfolding before our eyes.
And yet, in the face of all this, Gazans keep going. I don’t know where they find strength or the faith, but they do. They are still standing. They are still holding onto each other, still sharing what little they have, still finding ways to show love in the face of unimaginable destruction. That, in itself, is the truest spirit of Eid, compassion, solidarity, and faith in something greater than the cruelty of this moment.
So, while the world celebrates, Gaza mourns. As others gather around full tables, Gazans hold tight to the memories of those who have been taken too soon, children, parents, friends. For them, this Eid is not about feasts or new clothes. It’s about survival.
This is not the Eid we deserve. But one day, it will be. No matter how heavy the world seems.
About the blog
Get a glimpse into the reality and everyday life of our colleague in Palestine. Follow Mariam Ikermawi, Programme Officer for Gender Equality & Advocacy at We Effect in Ramallah. Mariam is a respected and beloved team member — she is also a friend, a daughter, a sister, and all the other roles that make up a human being. With unwavering dedication to human rights, gender equality, and sustainable development, she carries out her work under circumstances that many find hard to imagine. In this blog, she offers a unique perspective from within a deeply scarred and vulnerable country — sharing reflections and thoughts, shaped by her own experiences and those of the people around her.
Our work in Palestine
In Palestine, decades of occupation and instability have deeply affected daily life, with high poverty and food insecurity hitting rural communities the hardest. Since 1998, We Effect has partnered with local organizations to support sustainable agriculture, strengthen the economic role of women, and build resilient communities. Our work focuses on long-term solutions that promote equality, resilience, and access to vital resources — even in the most challenging circumstances.