“a film every american should see”
Ryan B. // University of Lousianna Student
May 8th, 2024
Eng 211 / Art of Empathy
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Gaza Is Our Home is a devastating personal account of the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Shaer’s mission is simple: to show that the people of Gaza are human and deserving of a life free of violence, something that many of us are either blind to or are too numb to care about. Shaer documents intimate moments with his own family in Gaza, moments that every human on earth can relate to, and then pulls the viewer into his grief as dozens of those same family members are killed. It is a heartbreaking but necessary film, especially today, that every American should see.
In no particular order, the three scenes that struck me the hardest begin with the phone call with Shaer’s young cousin. Maybe five years old, her voice trembles as she tries to make sense of the fear I’ll likely never know. She repeats how her heart is racing and doesn’t understand why or how to calm herself down. As she speaks, you can’t help but feel utterly hopeless as her anxiety radiates through the screen. It’s a contagious feeling, one that I felt deep in my bones. My first thought went straight to my own nieces and the lengths I would go to to protect them. How would I possibly survive if they and my sister were trapped in a warzone, thousands of miles away, with no escape route, no food, no water, and seemingly not a single care from the majority of the world? Her tiny voice rips through your soul and forces you to confront the senselessness of it all.
Throughout the film, Shaer asks, “Why don’t they care?” Each time it’s repeated, I felt he spoke directly to me. I found myself questioning my own capacity for empathy and whether or not my negative opinions of religion and the prison that I believe it to be have played a role in my becoming numb to the incredible violence that’s taking place in Gaza. I have always thought that the very nature of religion breeds competition and, ultimately, violence and that the impact of the devastation and corruption far outweigh the positives. But have those beliefs sterilized my ability to feel for those affected? Because I believe the conflict in Gaza is inevitable because religion is a component, have I actively chosen not to pay attention? Not to care? As Shaer asks again, “Why don’t they care?” I felt sadness and shame. And while I don’t believe that is his intention, it’s most likely awareness and a plea for help; I couldn’t help but feel it anyway.
The religion debate is a much larger conversation, one where I still believe that violence in the name of competing belief systems, which are sold as morality compasses, is offensive and hypocritical. But as I watched Gaza Is Our Home, I was confronted with my own morality conflict: do my beliefs prohibit me from feeling for the people of Gaza? It is an unsettling idea, but I think it is a necessary one.
The final scene that will surely haunt me is where Shaer and his sister are speaking directly into the camera, sobbing, as they were just given the news that more than fifty of their family members had been killed by a U.S.-founded Israeli missile. It is a loss so big that it seems unfathomable, and it comes through on Shaer’s face. He looks to be in shock as he tries his best to document it in real-time, but you can tell he has no idea how to process the information. I thought, how would anyone? Are humans even capable of feeling that amount of grief? Is there a point where our bandwidth reaches its limit, and any death after that becomes insignificant? Is that maybe why it seems like the rest of the world doesn’t care? Because we are constantly learning about the new and sinister ways that we inflict violence upon one another?
I thought about the videos of Shaer and his family laughing and dancing. Holding each other and overrun with joy at the sight of one another. I thought about my family. We do the same things. We have the same parties. We dance and laugh, cry and hug. I do not think I could comprehend losing fifty of them in one day. In fact, I don’t even have fifty family members. I would effectively have lost my entire bloodline in a moment. I was also touched by both of their bravery during this scene. They press on filming as they struggle to process what’s happened to them because they know that if people see this, it may help save other families from the same fate.
Gaza Is Our Home feels less like a film and more like a warning flare about what happens when we lose our ability to care for each other. It’s a compact explanation of how bad things can get when we turn a blind eye to what really matters, and it should be watched by anyone with an opinion on what’s happening in Gaza.