Fat Bubble: Hannah Moushabeck
Hello dear hearts
It's been another dark week this week, but onwards we go. The work is not getting easier, but in the face of relentless violence, we must be relentlessly bold in our love of humanity, and our desire for safety, peace and justice.
This week, I've been thinking of Gabor Maté's words, 'the opposite of addiction isn't sobriety, it's connection'. And I'm thinking that the opposite (the antidote) to a lot of things is connection. The antidote to helplessness is connection. The antidote to stuckness is connection. The antidote to powerlessness is connection. The antidote to grief is connection.
Connection - solidarity - is what is sustaining me at the moment. Now is the time that people start to tire, and want to return to 'normal'. But, as someone with a heart for endurance, I know that my strength in that endurance comes from staying connected to like-minded spirits. In that sense, of course, it's a bubble, and within that space we sustain each other.
The work remains the same - call your reps and write to your MPs. Don't wait for a response, contact them again and again. Keep sharing on your socials. Join marches and protests if you can. Every voice lifted encourages others to add their voices too, it truly does. Keep connected to our shared humanity.
This week, I want to amplify the voice and work of Hannah Moushabeck. Hannah is a Palestinian-American author, who has written powerful books that help to raise awareness and insight into Palestinian experience. During this latest siege, Hannah has used her platform to keep us focused on the needs and humanity of Palestinian people. Even in her grief she remains focused, and she calls me to do the same.



Hannah always uses her voice to affirm her identity as a proud fat, queer, Palestinian-American. This week, she has explicitly considered how her identities intersect with her liberation focus and activism and I encourage you all to take a look here.
Until next week, as always, wishing you all safety and sustaining joy.
Vicky