Fractured concrete crashes against the blood-stained pavement as sirens wail for help, maneuvering between dead bodies and fallen buildings to arrive at the scene. In Jabalia refugee camp, an eight-year-old boy, tears streaming down his smoke-laden cheeks, carries a headless body from the rubble—the aftermath of the third major bombing in a week, targeting the Al Fakhoura school on Nov. 18. Leaving at least 50 women and children slaughtered and even more injured, this place of refuge for displaced Palestinians is only one of hundreds of sites Israel has attacked since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas War, advancing its mission of eradicating Palestine.

Meanwhile, nestled in the comforts of Cleveland and located quite conveniently on the other side of the globe we lie: the Case Western Reserve University community. I remember waking up at 9:30 a.m. on Saturday, Nov. 18 to volunteer. I made a thankful pumpkin with my residents that day. Immediately after, I stopped at my dorm to pick up my backpack and headed over to Thwing Center to study for my physics exam. Around 7 p.m., I meandered my way over to Indian Flame for dinner with one of my roommates. After dinner, we headed back to our dorm to get ready for a Christmas-themed game night hosted by a mutual friend.

On the same day that hundreds of people mourned the loss of their loved ones due to continued genocide, much of CWRU campus had a day comparable to mine: safe and worry-free. Much of the problems we face in our daily lives revolve around small things such as being late for class or getting a bad haircut. Fortunately, the typical CWRU student is not worried about an airstrike attacking Cleveland Clinic while volunteering on a Saturday morning. Since we live in a reality that in no way resembles the conditions in Palestine, empathizing with those suffering on the other side of the world can be hard.

While grief for losing a loved one is universally understood, the scale of the crisis in Gaza, with a death toll surpassing 16,000 in these past two months, makes empathy harder to muster. Our experiences—void of the grim realities faced by Palestinians—limit our understanding, hindering a full emotional connection. The ability to empathize comes from one’s own understanding of the emotions others experience. Part of that is also understanding what may be triggering those emotions and then having the courage to share those feelings. Since our reality does not consist of passing a mound of rotting, decapitated corpses on our way to the grocery store or leaving our families at a minute’s notice due to an alleged bomb threat, we can only understand what the people in Gaza are experiencing to a certain extent. And this prevents us from truly connecting emotionally.

As the barrier to empathy grows, detachment becomes easier. It is true that how you go about your day isn’t necessarily affected by a genocide taking place on the other side of the world. Any student could have a Nov. 18-esque day like mine without Palestine crossing their mind. But it should. It should cross your mind. Genocide should bother you. As humans, before ethnicity, religion or student status, we share a moral obligation to stand against all injustices. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

So as the fight to empathize rages on, we must not get caught up in the privileges of our reality. For as humans, we must see each other and our loved ones in others. Even if their skin color may be different or their culture diverges from ours, humans must support humans. If we can’t feel the pain of a mother who just found her mutilated son under a pile of rubble, and if we can’t understand the fear of abandonment simmering as militants continue to tear families apart, then we can at least feel anger. Let the anger fuel your fight. If we are so privileged to be nestled on the other side of the world in the comforts of the CWRU community, then we must use our privilege to fight for Palestine. Fight for the mothers who have lost their babies in devastating air strikes. Fight for the families scrambling to find a new place to take shelter. Fight for the healthcare workers tired of being drained of resources and assistance. Fight for Palestine.

Everyone should have a personal stake in what’s going on in Palestine. For in its essence, Palestine’s people are everyone’s people. For if that were your baby carried from the rubble on Nov. 18, you would want the world to pay attention, too.