The price of your awakening was paid in Gaza’s blood. Don’t you dare forget that.
These words has sliced through me today as once again I opened my laptop to be faced with overwhelming ignorance from people claiming to be woke. I honestly didnt know that after all the exposure, after 589 days of Genocide that people could still be blind to what is unfolding live right in front of their eyes.
Yet as the rest of the world blinked open its eyes to the machinery of empire, to the savage clarity of colonialism laid bare, it was Gaza who paid the toll. Gaza — not just a place, but a people, a breath, a prayer buried beneath rubble — handed you the gift of sight. You didn’t wake up on your own. You were dragged, screaming or silent, into awareness by the sound of children being obliterated on livestream.
And yet.
There are still people pretending to be awake.Still trying to intellectualise their cowardice, still preaching nuance while bodies are turned to dust.
Still speaking of Hamas as though resistance is terrorism, as though occupied people owe their colonisers compliance. Still choosing the side of genocide while wearing the mask of enlightenment.
This did not begin on October 7th. That date is not the start of anything but your discomfort. Gaza’s struggle, Palestine’s pain, predates your timeline. It is layered with decades of theft, murder, humiliation, and siege — of a people imprisoned in their own land, punished for refusing to die quietly.
You talk about humanity, but only when it serves your politics.
You cry for peace, but only when the oppressed raise their fists.
You condemn “both sides,” but only when the side resisting dares to survive.
This isn’t awakening. This is performance.
Real awakening means rupture. Grief. Accountability.
It means recognising that what you now know came at the cost of a child’s life, a mother’s scream, a city flattened.
And that you owe them — not your pity, but your voice. Your alignment. Your truth.
Because yes, the price of your awakening was paid by Gaza in blood.
But the price of your silence — your ignorance, your willful blindness — will be paid by your soul on the Day of Judgment.
May you not be among the liars who claim they didn’t know.
May you not be among the cowards who claimed neutrality while genocide marched on.
And may you remember — every time you speak, every time you post, every time you choose sides — that someone else died to show you the truth.
“To the Spiritually Woke: You Are Not Who You Think You Are”
by Ink and Intention
In an age where everyone claims to be awakened — bathed in incense smoke, steeped in divine feminine wisdom, draped in crystals and cosmic truth — it is bewildering to find that so many remain deeply asleep.
They chant about liberation, about rising consciousness, about the sacredness of all things. They speak of universal love, of goddess energy, of breaking ancestral chains. And yet, when faced with a people being bombed, starved, and erased in real time, they somehow manage to take the side of the oppressor — or worse, they suggest solutions that are nothing more than polite ethnic cleansing.
This morning, I encountered a few such voices. Sisters, supposedly. Spiritually awakened, allegedly. But what I heard from them wasn’t truth. It was empty, packaged rhetoric. They suggested that Palestinians should simply leave. That perhaps Libya could offer refuge. That somehow, the people of Gaza must want to leave this devastation behind.
Let me be clear: this is not awakening. This is not alignment. This is complicity.
To suggest that the people of Gaza — who have endured unimaginable violence, who have chosen to remain rooted on their land even as it is turned to rubble — would want to leave, is to expose just how far removed you are from truth. It is to misunderstand not only the political reality, but the spiritual force that binds them to their home.
They are not enduring this genocide because they lack options. They are enduring it because they refuse to give up what is sacred.
They stay because their land is not a piece of negotiable real estate. It is not something they can sell or exchange for safety. It is home. It is legacy. It is prayer and history and covenant.
Their grandfathers planted olive trees that still bear fruit. Their ancestors are buried in the soil they walk on. Every stone is part of their story. Every inch of land has witnessed their love, their prayers, their blood. This isn’t nationalism — it is a spiritual, historical, and divine relationship with the land.
And more than that — they stay because of tawakkul. Because of their trust in Allah, subḥānahu wa taʿālā. Because they know that every hardship, every death, every loss, is written. That there is no true safety except with Him. That even in the face of bombs and starvation, what matters most is not survival at any cost, but submission to the Divine Will.
They sit on the ruins of their homes not because they have nowhere to go — but because to leave would be to betray everything they believe in. Everything they’ve lived for. Everything they were entrusted to protect.
And you — you in the West, with your temples and your tarot decks, your moon water and your sacred baths — you dare to speak on this? You, who live in lands built on the blood of displaced peoples, dare to advise the oppressed to become refugees again?
You are not awakened. You are not enlightened. You are parroting settler-colonial logic with prettier words and softer lighting.
You speak of divine feminine energy, but you cannot recognize the raw sacred feminine power of a mother in Gaza holding her baby in the rubble and refusing to leave.
You speak of vibration and frequency, but you do not feel the frequency of truth in the voice of a father who has lost everything and still says, “Alḥamdulillāh.”
You speak of ancestors, but you deny the dignity of a people walking the same streets their great-grandparents walked, even if those streets are now bombed-out shadows.
You say Palestinians should leave. But where, exactly, should they go? Libya, which has been torn apart by Western war? Jordan, already overflowing? Egypt, whose gates remain closed? The very idea is absurd. And yet, more disturbingly, it is exactly what Israel wants: an emptied land. A silent Nakba. A second expulsion, disguised as a humanitarian gesture.
And you — in your spiritual self-righteousness — are carrying that message forward.
You want to talk about hostages. Fine. Talk about them. But talk honestly. Hamas has repeatedly said: “We will release every hostage, all at once — if the bombing stops.” But the bombing hasn’t stopped, because Israel doesn’t want peace. It wants submission. It wants annihilation. It wants silence.
And every time you repeat, “Why won’t they just leave?” — you’re doing its work for it.
You are not neutral. You are not compassionate. You are not spiritual. You are colonized. Mentally and morally colonized, dressed in the language of awakening but devoid of substance.
Being truly awake means understanding the weight of oppression. It means standing with the oppressed even when it makes you uncomfortable. It means dismantling your illusions, not reinforcing them with incense and ego.
Real consciousness demands that you understand this: the people of Gaza are not martyrs because they want to die. They are martyrs because they refuse to abandon life — real life — a life of honour, of faith, of rootedness, of resistance. Their lives are drenched in meaning. In sacred defiance. In belief.
You, on the other hand, are asleep. And worse — you think you’re awake.
If your version of spirituality does not include the oppressed, does not understand the holiness of land, does not weep for the children buried beneath rubble, then your spirituality is a lie.
So sit with your discomfort. Sit with your hypocrisy. Sit with the realization that you are not who you thought you were.
Seeking Sakina 