If Israel’s genocide in Gaza has been a site of tension in your family for the last two Thanksgiving holidays, this year should be no different. The so-called ceasefire might seem like a good excuse to bury the hatchet and enjoy a quieter turkey dinner, but when we look at the harrowing status quo for Palestinians in Gaza today, there is no peace to be thankful for — especially not on a day that marks the remembrance of this country’s own genocide against Indigenous Americans.
To be clear, if two years of livestreamed annihilation have failed to shift your loved ones’ support away from the Israeli ethnostate, I doubt there is anything a dinner table argument could do to persuade them. There can be no reasoning with a worldview that forecloses seeing Palestinians as fully human.
I navigate this with pro-Israel members of my own British Jewish family. It’s painful, and I don’t have any good advice. Whatever your approach with your family, there can be no pretense that the genocide in Gaza is over.
I’ll be thinking of another family this Thanksgiving: that of my student from Gaza.
Families like mine, divided over Israel, are not the important ones here. For my part, I’ll be thinking instead of another family this Thanksgiving: that of my student from Gaza. He escaped in 2024 after Israel bombed his home, killing two of his immediate family members, including his mother. His surviving family are still there, living in tents. He hasn’t heard from them in over two weeks.
It is for families like my student’s that we cannot simply take it easy this Thanksgiving because of the so-called ceasefire in Gaza.
Unending Destruction
While the October 10 agreement has offered some relief for Palestinians, with a significant drop in daily slaughter, displacement, starvation and killings by Israeli forces continue. Instead of relentless, Israel’s bombings over the last 45 days have been simply ongoing and regular. Israel has killed 345 Palestinians in Gaza, including 120 children, while demolishing over 1,500 structures.
At the same time, only a fraction of the aid trucks which were supposed to enter Gaza daily under the ceasefire agreement have been permitted entry by Israeli forces. Mass, enforced hunger continues in the Strip, where 50 million tons of rubble sits atop well over 10,000 unrecovered bodies.
In the face of such totalizing and unending destruction, it’s hard to find much solace in the fact that the support for the Palestinian cause has grown internationally; that nearly all major international human rights organizations have recognized Israel’s actions as genocidal; that a major wave of nation-states, including France, Canada, and Britain, moved this year to recognize the state of Palestine. The dead, displaced, and occupied can do little with declarations that carry no concrete consequences.
“What we need is a justice plan,” Mosab Abu Toha, the Palestinian writer and poet, told a U.N. meeting this week. “It is time to stop accepting the illusion of peace processes that only entrench injustices.”
With the state of the world as it stands, it feels unlikely that Israeli leaders will be held accountable for their war crimes any time soon. Justice for Palestine is hard to imagine, but we can continue to apply pressure in ways that have already seen paradigms shift. Zohran Mamdani’s victory in the New York City mayoral election was a genuine victory against the perverse weaponization of antisemitism against Israel’s critics. Now New Yorkers must push our next mayor to uphold commitments to Palestinian solidarity and international law.
And there is more those of us living in safety can do. We can send funds and share resources, as so many already do. And we can continue heading and supporting Palestinians’ call for boycotts, divestment, and sanctions against Israeli institutions complicit in occupation and apartheid.
Activist sometimes say, “Solidarity begins at home.” Yet not everyone can choose their home. If you have the great fortune of spending the holidays with loved ones who share your commitments to justice and liberation, I hope your time together is full of joy. Most of the time, though, solidarity actually begins anywhere but home. So if you choose to spend time with your family knowing that it will be fraught, I wish you luck. The weekend will pass, and there’s urgent work to be done.
