NoNameThe3rd

The final stage of the 2025 Vuelta, a España in Madrid, had to be abandoned after huge pro-Palestinian protests over 100,000 people reportedly took to the streets. The demonstrators targeted the Israel-Premier Tech cycling team, accusing Israel of committing atrocities in Gaza. Things got tense, with clashes between protesters and police, and the race couldn’t continue.

Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez expressed admiration for the protesters and even suggested that Israel should be excluded from international sporting events until its actions in Gaza change. That statement hasn’t gone over. Well, opposition leaders in Spain have slammed him for encouraging unrest and risking the country’s image. Israel responded by barring two Spanish ministers from entering.

Beyond the politics, this raises big questions about safety at sporting events and whether cycling teams might boycott races involving Israel-Premier Tech in the future. Sports and politics are colliding in a way that could have long-lasting effects on international competitions.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and U.S. Senator Marco Rubio recently held a joint press conference in Jerusalem, reiterating their aligned positions on the ongoing Gaza conflict. Netanyahu accepted "full responsibility" for the Israeli strike on Qatar, while Rubio supported Israel’s stance, emphasizing the need for Hamas to be neutralized as an armed entity.

This event highlights the continued strong coordination between Israel and the U.S., even as regional and international criticism grows. Meanwhile, the Arab-Islamic summit in Doha is meeting to discuss the escalating crisis and potential collective responses.

Israeli bombing has forced thousands of Palestinians to flee Gaza City. More than 6,000 people were displaced in a single day, many heading towards al-Mawasi, an area declared a “safe zone.”

But al-Mawasi is already severely overcrowded, with families living in makeshift tents, facing shortages of food, clean water, and medical care. Survivors describe the conditions as chaotic and unsafe, saying they have nowhere else to turn.

What was meant to be a refuge has become another place of struggle, as displacement in Gaza continues with no safe shelter in sight.

Hello everyone, my name is Ahmed Abu Ouda. I'm 17 and living in Gaza. I'm currently studying for Tawjihi, the final year of high school. This year is extremely important for us in Palestine because it decides our educational path and the opportunities we might have for the future.

My older brothers all finished Tawjihi with very high marks, making our family proud, and I've been working hard to compete with them and make my family proud too.

Currently, the 2006 generation, who were supposed to graduate from Tawjihi two years ago, are now taking their exams through an app called Wise School. Behind them will be the 2007 generation, who were delayed by a year. My generation was supposed to take the exams at the normal time, but the circumstances are going from bad to worse, who knows when we will graduate and go to college.

For the past few months, I've been preparing myself for this year, trying to stay focused on my studies despite the daily hardships of life in Gaza. Recently, I needed basic school supplies pens, notebooks, books, and the printed educational packages from the Ministry of Education but I simply can't afford them. My family struggles to cover even food, and the cost of these supplies is just too high for us right now.

Then there's the cost of affording the internet, which is high, and the quality is really poor for TEAMS meetings. Another issue is the location of the internet provider.

Currently, I'm sitting on the sidewalk to write this because the provider is on the street. Because of this, even when you're connected to Wi-Fi, it's not an ideal learning environment with peace and quiet. My family is trying their best to provide a quiet place for me to study so I can stay focused, but it's really difficult to find a place with all the necessary conditions

On top of that, daily life here is physically exhausting and stressful. Between the constant struggles just to survive and the pressure of studying, it's a lot to carry but I'm determined to persevere.

If you'd like to know more about me or support me and my family, check my bio.

Every day starts the same for me and Qusay: finding water for our family. Not clean water, not safe water just enough to survive. We gather our broken jugs, battered buckets, and plastic containers held together with wires, and head out under the burning sun. The line stretches endlessly. We wait for hours, hoping there will still be something left when it's our turn.

Even when we finally return home, there is no comfort waiting. For our family, home is often just what remains of what we used to have. Some days, there's barely a roof, barely a wall, and we sit on broken concrete because it's all that's left. Every shattered stone carries memories of dinners we can't have, quiet moments that can't come back, and a sense of normal life that is gone.

This is life for our family in 2025. Water is scarce, hope is even scarcer, and survival has replaced dreams.

Every day is a struggle just to stay alive, and every night we pray that we can find the strength to do it all again tomorrow. We are not numbers. We are a family. Thirsty, displaced, and holding onto what little dignity we have left.

We share this because we need help. We're asking the world to see us our struggle, our family, our life. Please, share our story, raise your voice, and if you can, support our fundraiser. Every share, every contribution no matter how small helps keep our family alive in a place that has taken almost everything. Donation link and discord contact is on my bio

This is the struggle you don't see our struggle, our life, our fight to survive.

Couple of days ago, Al-Roaya Tower in Gaza was bombed and turned into rubble. A building that once stood tall is now nothing but dust and broken concrete. My brother and I stood in front of it today to take this photo not because we wanted to, but because it’s important for the world to see what has been destroyed. Behind us, people were climbing over the ruins, trying to find anything they could save. These weren’t just walls; they were homes, families, and memories that disappeared in a moment.

Living in Gaza now feels like waking up every morning to another loss. Every day, another place we knew is gone, another family is left without shelter, and more people are struggling to survive. When a tower like Al-Roaya collapses, it isn’t only stone that falls it’s the sense of safety and hope for hundreds of people who suddenly have nowhere to go.

For me, I am 17, and this year was supposed to be my Tawjihi year the most important stage of high school in Palestine, the one that decides our future in university. Instead of focusing on my studies, my family and I spend our days worrying about survival. We don’t have a safe home anymore, and we face constant struggles with water, food, and even basic hygiene. Life has become about just making it through each day.

I share this because I don’t want our reality to be unseen. Behind every destroyed building, there are families like mine trying to keep going with whatever strength we have left. If you’d like to know how you can stand with us, you can check my profile. help keep Gaza’s voice alive.