On day 234 of Israel’s war with Hamas, the Rafah massacre lit up the night sky, incinerating block 2372, the refugee tent camp designated as a safe zone, where Israel told people they would be safe. NPR called it “the single deadliest attack on the city.”

A Sky News video showed the aftermath the day after the airstrike. Abu Mohamad crouches to the ground and writes “Aya,” the name of his daughter, on her white body bag, then puts the pen into his breast pocket. Still needing to confirm it was Aya, a man in the room unzips her body bag and pulls out a blue, plastic grocery bag-her head. She had been decapitated. He unties the bag, Abu Mohamad drops to his knees, moves the hair from her face, sobbing, and says, “My daughter, that’s Aya.”

Just down the hall, the wails of three men echo through the clinic, mourning the loss of their pregnant sister.

She and Aya are considered a blessing for their families — they are identifiable. Other white body bags lined the floor simply labeled “woman and child,” burned beyond recognition.

The slaughter of 45 innocent civilians in an attempt to kill Hamas operatives believed to be nearby came less than 48 hours after the International Court of Justice ordered Israel to halt its offensive in Rafah. This does not include the Israeli bombing that followed two days later, killing dozens more Palestinians.

This genocide comes against the backdrop of the 76th anniversary of the Nakba, or catastrophe, marking the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from Israel. The shared horrors of Shoa (Holocaust) among Jews everywhere and the sentiment of “never again” must be centered at the heart of standing against this genocide in Gaza today.

A large number of Jewish Americans are joining “Not in Our Name,” a mass mobilization of voices who won’t stay quiet and who refuse to look away.

Most recently, students have led the charge on college campuses from encampments to walking across the stage to receive their diplomas. Our nation has a strong history of peaceful protests for human rights. Now, students have followed those who demanded an end to the Vietnam War, sought to secure Civil Rights, and affirmed Black Lives Matter. They now carry on that American legacy with their movement to end Israel’s war on Gaza, joining the ranks of those before.

Antisemitism in any form, at the encampments or otherwise, is unjustifiable. But let’s also lean into the Passover Seder at the Columbia encampments, reported by ABC News. “We as Jews have this idea of ‘Tikkun olam’ — to repair the world,” said Zoe Kanter, a student protester with Yale Jews for Ceasefire. “And that’s really a guiding principle for me … recognizing where there is injustice and suffering and working to repair it any way possible.” These Seders are just one example of the powerful allyship of those at the encampments welcoming the Seder, and Jewish Americans choosing to honor Passover at the encampments.

The silence of the staunch and vocal supporters of Israel’s war in Gaza, those who refuse to believe this is a genocide, is deafening.

Meanwhile, Washington had promised that the red line would be Rafah. But now that Israel has crossed the red line, and President Joe Biden’s promised day of reckoning was upon us, we were waiting to hear how the United States would respond.

Sadly, the United States National Security Council Coordinator for Strategic Communications, John Kirby “said there was nothing in the incidents on Sunday or Tuesday that would prompt the United States to halt its military aid to Israel,” according to Reuters. The Associated Press reported that the Biden administration noted only “an uptick” in military activity in Rafah.

The recently unveiled ceasefire plan still does not define that red line and is fragile at best, and both sides are reluctant to accept it.

So the question still remains: if Israel’s ground invasion has begun as it continues to bomb designated safe zones in Rafah, where millions of Palestinians remain displaced, what is Israel’s end game? And what are the United States’ red lines?

On the homefront, does the U.S.-Israel relationship, as it stands today, still make sense? The Hill published an op-ed by Ken Brill saying, “(Netanyahu) has been trying to replace the secular democracy established by his predecessors and its elites with a theocratic and autocratic state. He has consistently undermined U.S. efforts for a two-state solution, as well as U.S. diplomacy to control Iran’s nuclear program. Netanyahu has also become a blatant partisan in U.S. politics and declined to help Ukraine resist Russia’s invasion.”

Similarly, in March, Steven Cook wrote for Foreign Policy Magazine that Israel passed “a “nation-state law” that essentially formalizes the first- and second-class citizenship of Jews and Arabs, respectively, in Israeli society.” He goes on to say, “It is not appropriate for the United States to tell Israelis how to live or organize their society, but let’s no longer pretend that the two countries share democratic values.” And that the “Israeli government seeks to weaken checks and balances in Israel’s political system, redefine Israeli identity along religious lines.”

These Israeli laws have gone unchecked by the State Department for years and are not in line with our own democratic values.

Clearly, Hamas does not align with U.S. democratic values either, but there is no justification for genocide.

Shortly after the International Criminal Court released an arrest warrant for Netanyahu, his defense minister, and the three most prominent leaders of Hamas on charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity, Congress voted to sanction the ICC. Then, Congress subsequently invited Netanyahu to address a joint session of Congress. Let’s not forget H.R. 8445, which is quietly moving through Congress that would extend certain military benefits to 20,000 Americans who are members of the Israeli Defense Forces.

At the end of the day, you do not need to know Abu Mohamad or the three men — all in mourning — but at the very least, we can recognize the anguish at the core of their souls.

The past eight months have been unprecedented. For Palestinians and our allies, this period has felt like a profound betrayal, leaving us isolated and abandoned. Since May 26, I have been consumed by guilt, tormented by the inability to do more. My eyes burn from the relentless tears shed over the ongoing carnage and injustice.

For months, we condemned the terrorist attack on Oct. 7. Now, the world expects the United States to say, “We condemn May 26.”

Recently, a constituent asked if I had lost family in Gaza;my response was simple, “Yes, I’ve lost36,586familymembers.”

Iman Jodeh represents Colorado House District 41. She is a Democrat from Aurora.

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