When we think of activism, we often imagine marches, peaceful protests, picket signs, and political boycotts. While these are powerful tools for change, activism can take many other forms, some quieter, more creative, and deeply personal.
Genocide—the deliberate targeting of people based on their identity—is one of the gravest injustices of our time. For Muslim families, responding to such atrocities is not only a matter of humanitarian concern but also a profound spiritual duty.
[Dear Imams and Khateebs. Assalamu Alaikum wa rehmatullah. The community is so frustrated that our duas and efforts to roll back famine and genocide in Gaza are remarkably gone down. Recent rallies have attracted far less Muslims than neighbors of other faiths.
Gaza is not just a test for our brothers and sisters starving to death, being shot at, murdered in broad daylight while standing in a food line, and seeing their children suffer in unimaginable ways. Gaza is a test for us too.
My grandparents live in different states from where I do, so I only see them a few times a year. Because of this, it feels hard to stay in touch and have a good relationship with them. I feel guilty sometimes, as I am sure I will regret not spending more time with them after they pass away.
From a linguistic perspective the term ‘grandparent’ is meant to denote a generational difference with the context of adding importance to this ascendant.
“And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.”
( Surah Luqman:14)