Displaced Palestinians receive food packages from a U.S.-backed foundation pledging to distribute humanitarian aid, in western Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, on May 27, 2025.AFP via Getty Images
The “aid” seems to empower Israel to prolong its war while attempting to deflect mounting international pressure.

By Dalia Abu Ramadan / Truthout

Is the U.S. genuinely aiming to save Gaza’s population from starvation?  Or is the true purpose of Israeli-U.S. aid in Gaza to empower Israel to prolong its war while pacifying Palestinians with minimal food supplies amid mounting international pressure?  After Rafah was completely destroyed — homes flattened and entire families erased from the civil registry — Israel took full control of the city. On May 27, it distributed what it called “aid,” with U.S. assistance.  During the so-called aid distribution, Palestinians who had walked long distances searching for basic food supplies were killed by the Israeli military.  Has bread now become something we must pay for with blood?

For Gaza’s people, reaching the Israeli-U.S. aid point in Rafah was no easy task. The journey was long, dangerous and shadowed by constant airstrike threats. There is no safety in Gaza. But hunger — a weapon Israel has deliberately used against civilians — has forced many families to take the risk, especially after several children in the Strip have starved to death.

Despite the danger, families walked for hours, desperate to feed their children. How can a mother ignore her starving child’s cries in the middle of the night? Thousands gathered at the aid point. A friend of my father told him, “I walked 10 kilometers on foot, exhausted and starving, but I did it for my little children.”

The suffering was not just hunger or distance — it was the complete collapse of life in Gaza.  No transportation, no services, no infrastructure.  All this hardship for a small bag of basic food! But what happened next was even more devastating.  On May 27, after these families finally arrived, the Israeli army opened fire on civilians scrambling for food. Three were killed, 46 wounded.  The military’s excuse?  “There was chaos.”

But how can anyone expect order from a starving population, terrified of returning home empty-handed to hungry children?

They call it “aid,” but what we receive barely qualifies as food — a handful of sugar, some flour, a bit of pasta. As if these scraps are too generous for Gaza’s people. What hurts most is that we’ve come to depend on this aid just to quiet the screams of hunger in our stomachs. This is exactly what Israel intended: to strip us of dignity, reduce our lives to survival and weaponize hunger against us.

Any food with real nutritional value is systematically banned. Fruits, vegetables and meat have become fantasies — luxuries from a life we once knew. The children need them most. Their small bodies should grow and build strength — but they are starving instead. My cousin’s daughter, Tulin, is 3 years old.  When the war started, she was only 1. Two years have passed, and all she’s known is war and hunger.  She asks her mother, “When will I eat a banana again?” Even milk has become rare.  Those who cannot afford black market prices have lost their babies to malnutrition.

This is exactly what Israel intended: to strip us of dignity, reduce our lives to survival and weaponize hunger against us.

On May 28, as Palestinians from the north and south tried to reach the aid point — many walking for hours under deadly skies — Israeli forces opened fire again.  Six were killed, 15 wounded, all while trying to carry home a bag of dry pasta.

Israel has used starvation as a weapon since the third month of the war, with its most brutal effects unfolding silently in northern Gaza — a reality the world barely knew. I lived it. For 11 months, we had no access to fruit, vegetables or meat. Even flour was completely banned for three months.

When flour finally entered, it came through Israeli-controlled aid trucks, watched by occupation drones and was distributed at points under full Israeli control. This wasn’t aid, it was humiliation, just like during the infamous “Flour Massacre” at the Nabulsi Roundabout on Rashid Street on February 29, 2024.  The Israeli military dumped bags of flour on the ground — as if Palestinians were animals.  They released the aid at night or dawn, when danger was highest — and then opened fire.

That massacre claimed no fewer than 120 Palestinian lives — killed by tank shells and bullets while scrambling for flour.  More than 760 people were injured. I will never forget that day last February.  My father and brother went there hoping to bring something back. Hour after hour passed, and the news was terrifying: displaced people sheltering in the nearby schools — those who were right beside us — began saying, “Everyone who went is dead.”  We waited until 7 am.  When they finally returned, they were empty-handed.  Their eyes were heavy with sorrow.  They told us about the bodies, the chaos, the people who died just trying to grab a bag of flour or a can of beans.

This was not an isolated event.  It was part of a calculated policy — a system designed to starve, humiliate and kill — all while the world watched.

Last week, my family and I fell ill after drinking unclean, untreated water.  Our bodies have grown dangerously weak from the severe lack of food and proper nutrition. It breaks my heart to see what we live through in Gaza.  We were once known for generosity and abundance, but who would have imagined we’d be reduced to desperately searching for a bite of food to silence our hunger?  How can anyone afford to eat when nearly everyone is jobless, penniless and trapped in a war zone while stripped of every basic right?  This isn’t survival — it’s slow, deliberate suffering.

In Gaza, we have lost all trust in what the world calls “aid.” After months of siege, killing and starvation, we whisper to ourselves in sorrow: Is this flour, sugar, this small amount of pasta the price to silence us?  Is this how the war is prolonged — by throwing food at us, then opening fire moments later?

In Gaza’s streets, I often hear a saying repeated as if nothing else remains for us: “If the air were not a gift from God, it would have been taken from us long ago.”  And it’s true. Everything that keeps us alive — food, water, movement, even breath — has become a weapon against us. Were it not for God’s mercy, no breath would remain in our chests!

The Trump administration is cracking down on political dissent. Under pressure from an array of McCarthy-style tactics, academics, activists and nonprofits face significant threats for speaking out or organizing in resistance.

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Dalia Abu Ramadan is a Palestinian storyteller and aspiring graduate of the Islamic University of Gaza, sharing powerful narratives that reflect the strength, resilience, and challenges of life in Gaza.