With the start of the new year comes my birthday in quick succession. I am now 23 years old – still no driver’s license, but I am a little more of an adult. Yay!

I do not feel very different going from 22 to 23 to be honest, but am just a little more nervous about the time I have spent not doing as much as I had planned. But such is human nature – what is a birthday if not marked by just a little bit of existential anxiety?

I had a birthday party with friends and family, featuring (of course) a couple fun rounds of trivia about me, the birds regularly seen in our area, and movie stills (which was quite the hit). We also got a delicious chocolate ganache cake that, to my mother’s relief, was finished very quickly. On my actual birthday, we went out to a newly discovered Thai place that, to our delight, was very good! I was incredibly satisfied with my drunken noodles and Thai tea.

While we were out for dinner enjoying our food, the TV screens in the restaurant had the news on, with headlines flashing and images of orange and red tearing through Pasadena and the LA area, an area I remember and grew up in. There was a video of someone driving down the PCH in Malibu and having been there just five months ago and having gone there countless times when I was little, it all just looked unimaginably different and alien.

The other screen displayed a cold front creeping across the south, with interviews of Dallas area residents sharing how they were preparing for the extreme cold weather that was going to hit them this week.

There is a particular kind of despair in watching these things happen while I am enjoying myself with my drunken noodles and Thai tea. It messed with my appetite and my brain, honestly.

There have been many things written about climate anxiety and despair, and how this is a particularly ominous start to 2025, after 2024 was the hottest year on record. I will not add to that particular conversation, but will instead reflect here on something else: the value of bearing witness and watching the world destroy itself around us – only until you put the phone down.

My resolution this year was to read more, and I started the year with (finally) reading “Recognizing the Stranger: On Palestine and Narrative” by Isabella Hammad.

It is in fact as good and important as everyone was saying, and I am glad I finally made my way to it, since it has been sitting on my desk for ages. I have thought a lot in the last year about the value of bearing witness to endless devastation on such a large scale, and Hammad touched on that confusion a lot, even though she was giving this lecture 9 days before October 7.

The relentless bombardment and starvation of Gaza began while I was still in college. I was a cinema and media studies minor, and we read many interesting articles and works that reflected on the power of technology and the internet especially in cultivating a sense of community across borders and differences. We focused specifically on empathy, and what images from other places of fellow humans and people could spark in us, when you are not experiencing those things yourself.

This is something Hammad reflects on too, although she focuses specifically on the power of the moment of recognition, or the turning point, in the novel. Those particular moments are the ones that are supposed to pull the rug from beneath the protagonist and/or the reader, and they are supposed to completely change the world within the story. As a Palestinian herself, Hammad reflected on seeing these moments of recognition happen in real life, when people who are not aware of Palestine and far removed, realize exactly what was happening, and it caused a complete paradigm shift.

The question that I found the most compelling (and maybe the most depressing) is whether the moment of recognition is actually enough to move people to action.

Tragically, what stuck with me the most about her writing was not the original content of the lecture itself, but rather the afterword, which she reveals that she is writing in January 2024. She cites the death toll then: 18,000 dead and many more missing under the rubble.

We don’t know the actual numbers of the dead, but The Lancet estimates the death toll to be upwards of 70,000 people. It could be many, many thousands more.

Her words felt like a relic from an ancient time long past – although it was almost exactly a year ago – just because the numbers and events she was recounting are so horrifically outdated.

She asked her readers,

“As I write this, a ceasefire has still not been called. I wonder what reality you now live in. From the point in time at which you read this, what do you say of the moment I am in? How large is the gulf between us?”

Unimaginably large and yet infinitesimally small, I would answer.

There are specific videos and images she references that are burned in my brain. I recognized them – the journalist who threw his press vest away in despair knowing nothing more was protecting him, the girl who could barely believe she was alive, the acronym WCNSF (Wounded Child No Surviving Family) being written on children’s arms in the hospitals that barely function.

I wonder how many of these photos and videos will remain references – signals for us to remember what we watched. I wonder if they will become more – perhaps one of them might become a catalyst for us all to say, “Enough.”

One of the other questions she touches on is the actual power of a story, of words to motivate action and change. These days, I find myself questioning that quite a lot. 

We have been flooded with so many stories, from LA to Gaza, that it appears that the words and stories meant to move us have done quite the opposite: you just keep scrolling, unmoved, because who could possibly have the capacity to be moved by it all and still keep going?

“We who are not there, witnessing from afar, in what ways are we mutilating ourselves when we dissociate to cope? To remain human at this juncture is to remain in agony. Let us remain there: it is the more honest place from which to speak.”

Hammad calls on us to continue to listen and watch, if only to be honest about how we are all dealing (or not dealing) with it all.

Bearing witness and empathizing with people who are suffering only happens if you recognize their and your shared humanity. It is exactly this that Hammad notes, and more importantly, she points to that moment of recognition as a beginning, not an end.

And yet, here we are. Witnessing, sharing, reposting GoFundMes and fundraisers from around the world for Gaza, L.A., and more on automation.

Most people (including me) will scroll past because they just cannot take it anymore. We just have nowhere to put the energy and grief that these terrible nightmares trigger, so you just keep scrolling to quiet the dread – maybe a cute cat video, or a cleverly choreographed dance to the latest trending sound.

And we move on, numbed a little more.

Even as Palestinians from Gaza beg for us to pay attention, to do something, to see how their children are dying from disease and starvation.

All we have to do is scroll past to not see it anymore.

“And yet the pressure is again on Palestinians to tell the human story that will educate and enlighten others and so allow for the conversion of the repentant Westerner, who might then descend onto the stage if not as a hero then perhaps as some kind of deus ex machina. ”

I don’t think anyone really has the answer for where this will leave or lead us. I do have to say, seeing just how many people do seem to care, and at least share things on social media, is indeed heartening, knowing how few seemed to dare to care publicly in the past.

I suppose all we can hope for is that there will be more moments of recognition – where you see your humanity in those who are suffering, and are in fact moved to do something.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading!

For a lighter end to this post, here’s what I’m reading, watching, and listening to this week.

Watching: ER

I have been in a medical drama mood lately, and ER is hailed as one of the first and best to ever do it. Having just finished the first season (with a whopping 25 episodes), I can see why. It does, however, have fifteen seasons, so it remains to be seen if I actually finish it.

Oh, to have nicely-paced shows with 20+ episodes with a great recurring cast. Alas, we are stuck with shows with a maximum of 12 episodes that come around every two years.

It’s also very fun to see how the show was the beginning of many people’s careers – George Clooney, of course – but also people like Quentin Tarantino, who directed an episode in Season 1! And several other actors who went on to have illustrious TV careers.

Reading: Now, I am still reading There’s Always This Year, which is not really what I expected, but Hanif Abdurraqib puts together words in a way that almost makes me jealous. I’m hooked! His origin as a poet really shows, and I like the interludes of poetry here and there.

Listening:

Angel of my Dreams – JADE: As a long-time Little Mix fan, I was pleasantly surprised by just how much I liked this song. It’s a very sonically interesting dancepop solo turn for Jade, and I am excited to hear what else she has in store.

I have been returning to albums often lately, and recently, I re-listened to Lorde’s Melodrama, and I really adore that album. It is so well-curated and produced, and truly has no skips.

Apparently I’m in a melodramatic mood in general, because I also re-listened to SOS by SZA, another impeccably curated album. SZA sings melancholy so well.

Bird’s Eye – Ravyn Lenae: I kind of went down a Ravyn Lenae rabbit hole this week: I listened to the album, watched a couple performances, including her Tiny Desk, and I can’t believe it took me so long! She has such a unique falsetto and tone, and her album is a very pleasant listen.

I also built this metal model of Minas Tirith, the capital city of Gondor, as visualized in the Lord of the Rings films last week. Look at all those tiny houses!

If you feel so inclined to wish me a happy birthday, please do so by donating to these funds for Gaza, those who have lost their homes in the wildfire, and others in need below:

Gaza Funds – This website generates a GoFundme for you to donate to automatically. You don’t even need to do any searching!

E-sim fundraiser – Several disabled organizers have joined forces to mobilize funds for e-sims for those in Gaza needing internet to stay in touch with the world outside.

Displaced Black Families’ GoFundMe directory – This is a resource I found circulating on Twitter that the organization AFROPUNK created. The wildfire has wiped out entire historically Black neighborhoods, especially in Altadena. All you have to do is click through to donate to a GoFundme, and they’re all helpfully color-coordinated so you can make the biggest difference possible.

Mask Bloc LA – High-quality masks like N95s give the best protection when dealing with ash and other harmful particles in the air. If you feel so inclined, please donate to the Mask Bloc in LA who are distributing masks to those impacted by the wildfires and seeking to protect themselves from COVID-19. You can donate to their venmo: @ MaskBlocLA

Workshops4Gaza – A group doing absolutely incredible work! They host workshops and trainings by many artists. I’ve been to four so far, and definitely plan on joining more. You can donate whatever you can, and attend really cool workshops! Win win!

Thank you for reading! See you next week!