Crimes Against Humanity

I volunteer in communications with a society I’m a member of. I actually resigned from the role to focus on my human rights work, but since they haven’t found anyone to replace me, I’ve continued helping out in the meantime.

One of the people I met through the council is Jill—an incredible woman who became a friend. She served on the council with passion and fire, and we really hit it off. She’s around 70 now, but honestly, I’ve found that once you hit 40, age just… levels out. We’re all kind of the same.

Jill retired from the council last year, and sadly, we soon got news that she was sick. No one said it directly, but rumours began circulating that it was cancer. Then, on Monday, a girlfriend of mine from the council rang and told me that Jill has liver cancer.

I was very sad to hear it. She had plans to travel around Europe with her daughter, who lives there—and now this. I also know liver cancer isn’t a good one. Not that there’s ever a “good” kind of cancer, but it’s one they still struggle to treat effectively.

Today, I sent her some flowers—just to say, “I’m thinking of you and sending you a big hug.” She messaged me to say thanks and told me the flowers really lifted her spirits. She also sent me a photo of them, which you can see below.

Earlier this evening, I read an article on The Advertiser's website that really pissed me off. It mentioned that pro-Palestinian protesters were expected outside the ABC studios in Parramatta, Sydney, where Albo and Peter Dutton were scheduled to debate—which they have now done. The article referred to the protest as a “security threat,” and I found that deeply offensive. In response, I wrote the following letter to the editor of The Advertiser:

To the Editor,

The coverage on 16/04/25 of the pro-Palestinian protest near the election debate described it as a “security threat.” I find this deeply troubling.

Peaceful protest is not a threat. It is a democratic right. What is a threat—what should keep every one of us up at night—is the killing of tens of thousands of Palestinians, the majority of whom were civilians. What should horrify us is the deliberate blockade of humanitarian aid, food, water, and medical supplies to a population under siege.

And what about the hospitals? The majority of them have been bombed. There are now almost no hospitals in Gaza left in use. Premature babies died when incubators lost power. Doctors performed surgeries without anesthetic. These are not unfortunate accidents—they are targeted attacks on the very lifelines of survival. They are crimes against humanity.

Framing protestors who speak out against these atrocities as the threat, while turning a blind eye to the state responsible for them, is not only unjust—it is obscene. It enables further violence. It tells the world that we care more about political discomfort than human lives.

Calling for justice must never be confused with condoning violence. I believe in peaceful protest, open dialogue, and a world where all lives are treated with equal dignity.

We must stop vilifying the voices calling for justice. They are not the problem. The problem is our silence in the face of genocide.

Kind regards,

Me

I actually wrote the letter during a Zoom meeting with the human rights organisation I volunteer with. I turned off my camera and mic, and just typed away. It was an interesting meeting, but I didn’t have much to contribute—I spoke briefly at the beginning, then just listened. The organisation is filled with passionate young people who are incredibly knowledgeable about human rights issues and the inner workings of the movement. I found myself excited for them—for their futures. They’re so fired up, and so good at what they do.

I don’t mean to sound patronising, like I’m so much older than them, but the reality is I’m at least 20 years older than most of them. There are older people involved too, of course, but tonight I had this moment of reflection: if I were 20 years younger and just discovering this organisation, I think I’d make activism my entire life. I was involved in these spaces when I was younger, to a degree—but now, my focus is different.

I still care deeply about human rights. I intend to stay involved with this organisation indefinitely and contribute where I can. I’m going to continue creating work that tells stories—about Palestinians, about stateless people, about injustice—but I also know what I want now. I want to make things. I want to write. I want to earn enough money to travel the world.

Something I am interested in getting involved with within the movement is projecting images onto buildings. I was at another meeting last night focused on making Palestine a federal election issue, and one of the campaign strategies they’re using is building projections. I put my hand up straight away—I think that projecting relevant images onto buildings at nighttime is pretty cool.

I’m not entirely sure it’s legal—it feels like one of those grey areas—but I’m up for it. 

I'm going to do things like that but my priority is to follow my heart and I want to see the world. Mostly Europe, but I’d also love to go back to Antarctica. I have no desire to visit the U.S.—I won’t be going there—but I want to experience as many other places as I can. And soon. Sooner rather than later.