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The weight of relentless conflict and displacement is crushing the mental health of children in Gaza, according to a psychologist working on the front lines of the crisis. Nisreen Qawas, a psychologist with the Palestine Red Crescent Society, describes a generation scarred by trauma, witnessing horrors no child should ever experience. The situation, she emphasizes, is not simply a humanitarian catastrophe, but a rapidly escalating mental health emergency demanding immediate and sustained attention.

Qawas’s firsthand accounts reveal the profound psychological toll exacted on young Palestinians. From waking up in fear of soldiers to recognizing the sounds of drones, children are living in a constant state of anxiety and insecurity. The ongoing violence, coupled with limited access to basic necessities and healthcare, is creating a crisis of unprecedented scale, with long-term consequences for the well-being of an entire generation. At least 20,000 children have been killed since October 2023, averaging at least 24 deaths per day.

The Last Words of a Five-Year-Old

The story of five-year-old Hind Rajab, tragically lost in January 2024, encapsulates the devastating reality facing children in Gaza. Trapped in a car surrounded by the bodies of her family after an attack, Hind desperately pleaded for help over the phone. “I’m scared. They’re shooting at us… Please come get me,” she whispered, her voice growing fainter as Israeli tanks closed in. Despite repeated attempts by the Palestine Red Crescent Society to secure clearance to reach her, permission was delayed and ultimately came too late.

Qawas, who spoke with Hind during those harrowing hours, recounts the child’s heartbreaking concern for her mother, even as she lay wounded. “I don’t want to,” Hind reportedly said, refusing to wipe her own blood, “My mother will get tired from washing my clothes.” The loss of Hind, along with two Palestine Red Crescent Society paramedics – Yousef Zeino and Ahmad Almadhoun – who were killed while attempting to reach her, underscores the immense risks faced by those providing aid in the region.

A Generation Traumatized

Hind’s story is not an isolated incident. Qawas notes that tens of thousands of children in Gaza have been displaced, lost parents – with over 39,300 children losing one or both parents, including approximately 17,000 who are now orphaned – and are living with the constant threat of violence. More than 650,000 children lack access to schooling, and over 1.2 million require immediate psychological support. The collapse of healthcare and education systems further exacerbates the crisis, making healing nearly impossible.

Qawas draws on her own childhood experiences – recalling Israeli soldiers storming her home and taking her father – to understand the depth of trauma these children are enduring. She joined the Palestine Red Crescent Society in 2021, driven by a desire to provide mental health services in the most affected areas. However, she admits that even her experience was insufficient to prepare her for the scale of suffering she has witnessed in Gaza.

The Urgent Need for Ceasefire and Mental Health Support

Addressing this crisis requires immediate action, Qawas argues. A permanent ceasefire is the first crucial step towards stability, followed by the rapid restoration of healthcare and education infrastructure. Critically, mental health support must be integrated as a central component of the humanitarian response, not an afterthought. Without sustained investment in psychosocial care, the psychological toll will only deepen, shaping the future of the Palestinian people.

Qawas emphasizes that no therapy can compete with the ongoing trauma of violence. Protecting children from continued harm is paramount. The story of Hind Rajab, she concludes, is a call to action – a reminder that the world failed her, and must not fail the remaining children of Palestine. Her voice, preserved in the film “The Voice of Hind Rajab,” serves as a powerful testament to their suffering and a plea for urgent intervention.

The situation in Gaza demands continued international attention and a commitment to safeguarding the mental and physical well-being of its children. What comes next hinges on a sustained commitment to peace, humanitarian aid, and comprehensive mental health support for a generation deeply scarred by conflict.

Share your thoughts and reactions to this critical situation in the comments below.

Montreal – Stanley Étienne, a 41-year-vintage bus driver, has donated blood 37 times in recent years, driven by a desire to support those suffering from sickle cell anemia, a disease disproportionately affecting the Black community. His commitment extends beyond personal donations; he now actively organizes blood drives and advocates for increased participation within the Black community in Quebec.

Étienne’s advocacy stems from a deeply personal experience – witnessing a friend’s health crisis related to sickle cell anemia. He learned that blood transfusions were crucial for her treatment and that compatible blood was most readily found among donors of the same ethnic background. Héma-Québec, the province’s blood agency, reports that over 200 sickle cell patients in Quebec depend on regular blood donations to survive, with a single patient requiring an average of 130 donations annually.

However, this call for donations is shadowed by a history of mistrust within the Black community, rooted in discriminatory practices of the past. In the 1980s, U.S. Health authorities incorrectly identified Haitians as a “high-risk group” for HIV/AIDS, alongside homosexuals, heroin users, and hemophiliacs – a categorization known as the “4Hs.” This led to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) barring people of Haitian origin from donating blood.

The stigma spread to Canada. By 1983, the Canadian Red Cross requested that recent Haitian immigrants voluntarily refrain from donating blood. While the high-risk classification for Haitians was dropped in the U.S. By the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) in 1985, the FDA continued to exclude Haitian immigrants arriving after 1977 until 1990. In Canada, the voluntary self-exclusion policy was quietly lifted in 1988, without public announcement.

Étienne recounts the impact of these policies on his own family. “A lot of Haitians don’t want to give blood since of that,” he said, explaining that he had to persuade his own mother to overcome her distrust of the medical establishment. This historical context continues to influence attitudes towards blood donation within the community.

The Canadian Blood Services (CBS) likewise faced criticism for a screening question that limited donations from individuals who had lived in, were born in, or had sexual contact with a person from certain African countries after 1977, due to concerns about HIV testing reliability. This question was not removed until 2018, following improvements in testing technology.

Acknowledging the impact of systemic and anti-Black racism, CBS stated that while Black Canadians comprised 4.3% of the population in 2021, they represent less than 1% of Canada’s blood donors. Héma-Québec is actively working to address this disparity, aiming to increase Black Quebecer donors from the current 10,000 annually to 26,000.

Akelia Campbell, a sickle cell anemia patient, frequently shares her experiences to raise awareness. She described the significant pain and challenges associated with the disease, which manifested in early childhood. “In childhood, I was in and out of the hospital a lot,” she said. As an adult, she manages the condition but must carefully balance her life to avoid triggers that cause painful flare-ups.

Chantal Goupil, a Héma-Québec nurse, emphasized the severity of sickle cell anemia and the urgent need for blood donations from the Black community. “It’s exceptionally difficult for them,” she said. “we need more blood from the Black community.” Héma-Québec highlights the importance of genetic matching between donors and recipients, stating that “To treat those affected effectively, the donor and recipient must share the same genetic makeup. It’s the reason why Black donors are vital to the community.”

For Étienne, the act of donating is deeply meaningful. “It feels good,” he said. “I don’t know that person, but because of me, I give a chance to that person to survive.”