Imagine sitting at home on a quiet day. A child is playing on the floor, lost in a world of simple joy. Suddenly, the calm is shattered by gunfire. Armed men burst in. Before the child's innocent eyes, they execute the entire family. They rape the mother. And then, they murder the child.
You thought I was talking about October 7th, didn't you? You are wrong. This is what happened in Sweida, Syria, beginning on July 15th, when a calculated massacre unfolded over several days. This is a story of ethnic cleansing, a planned genocide, and the world’s silence is deafening.
The man orchestrating this terror is a leader the world is beginning to dress up in suits, calling him by his given name, Ahmed al-Sharaa. I refuse! In Arabic, "Sharaa" implies "legitimacy." To use that name is to grant it to him. I will call him by his chosen name, al-Jolani, because a suit does not change a terrorist's identity, and his hands are soaked in the blood of my people and others’.
Under his command, over 1800 Druze have been murdered, including infants, women and eldelry. But the most haunting number is this: 112 women and girls are still being held captive. They witnessed their families being butchered before they were taken. One of their captors posted a horrifying message online: "Don't cry for your dead. In 9 months, we will return your women with babies and Pampers."
As a woman, and a Druze, I cannot remain silent. In 2016, I journeyed to the concentration camps in Poland. Throughout that visit, one thought echoed in my mind: How did the world let this happen? Today, that same question burns inside me. The world is silent, just as it was shamefully silent after October 7th. The hypocrisy pierces the heart. This is our "Never Again," and it is happening right now.
The terrorists in Sweida have declared their intentions in numerous videos, as they slaughter and torture their victims: "We will erase the Druze and continue to Jerusalem!" This is not a distant threat. They are only an hour's drive from Israel's border. Israeli decision-makers must understand that if they are not stopped there, they will be here.
The siege on Sweida is suffocating its 700,000 residents. There is no water, no food, no electricity. Al-Jolani's men destroyed the local hospital—murdering patients and staff, and smashing medical equipment—to ensure no one could be treated. People are dying from starvation and the lack of basic medical care. All rescue attempts by different organizations have been stopped at the borders of Sweida by the regime's forces. Over the past week, the regime has published videos of allowing a few trucks to enter with only minimal food supplies, which amounts to less than 5% of what is needed for a population where over 228 thousand people have been left homeless, without even mattresses or a change of clothes after everything they owned was burned. This is not aid; it is part of a cynical campaign to tell the world, "There is no siege!" Their stated goal is mass extermination. A permanent, internationally protected humanitarian corridor is essential until a political solution is found.
So what can be done in the face of such overwhelming silence? Sometimes, hope comes not from governments, but from human connection. In this darkness, there has been a ray of light. I was privileged to be present when a delegation from Na'amat, led by the remarkable Hagit Pe'er, President of Na'amat Israel and Na'amat International, visited the situation room of Sheikh Muwafaq Tarif, the spiritual leader of the Druze community in Israel. Na'amat brought aid packages, to be sent to Sweida, and organized a panel for Na’amats members and audience in the U.S. to raise awareness, actions that have been a true blessing.
But it was a personal moment at the end of the visit that truly fortified me. After giving me her phone number, Hagit looked me directly in the eyes and said, " You are my sister! Whatever you need, don't hesitate for a second. You call, and I am with you." That sentence was everything I needed. Sometimes, all a person needs is to know they are not alone. That single moment of human solidarity gave me the strength to continue fighting.
Now, I am turning to you to extend that same solidarity to the 700,000 souls trapped in Sweida. You have the power to show them they are not forgotten. You can act. Raise your voice on social media. Write to your elected officials. Donate to the relief efforts to help rebuild what has been destroyed.
Most critically, we must demand that our government provides tangible protection. It was Israeli air defense that saved lives when the Druze fought back against these terrorists; that protection must be expanded to open a humanitarian corridor. We cannot wait for political convenience to align with moral duty. We must raise our voices and refuse to be silent accomplices. I do not want to find ourselves in a few years' time, filled with the unbearable torment of regret, asking ourselves that same terrible question: How did we let this happen?
This is the time to act. This is the time to save the Druze in Sweida!