On September 25, I began a hunger strike in conjunction with the health care worker-led People’s Hunger Strike for Gaza (PHS). PHS, which is based in Boston, conducted its hunger strike campaign last month to raise awareness about the current forced starvation of people in Gaza as a result of Israel’s genocide in the region. The campaign aimed to pressure U.S. Representative Katherine Clark, Democrat of Massachusetts, to sign on to the “Block the Bombs” bill—which would prevent the Trump Administration from delivering additional major weapons to Israel—and to pressure Massachusetts U.S. Senators Elizabeth Warren and Ed Markey to introduce a version of the same bill in the Senate.
I heard about PHS’s campaign through Jewish Voice for Peace, and was eager to put my body on the line to show solidarity with those currently starving in Gaza.
As an observant Jewish person who spent many years living in Muslim communities in the West Bank, I have fasted dozens of times over the course of my life in observance of Jewish holidays and while spending Ramadan with Muslim Palestinian communities. In 2024, I fasted in a Palestine solidarity hunger strike organized by Yara Gharabli, going thirty-two hours without food or water. I am no stranger to the experience, and have not previously found it difficult. But with the PHS strikers each committing to fast for at least a week with no food at all, I knew that I was embarking on a more physically taxing fast than I’d ever attempted before. With the guidance of PHS’s medical experts, as well as an array of supplemental multivitamins and electrolytes at my disposal, I took the plunge.
The first day was straightforward. On days of fasting during Jewish holidays and Ramadan, fasters completely abstain from all food and water—since I had been drinking water throughout this strike, day one of the fast passed with relative ease. I did, however, have trouble falling asleep, as I have experienced during other fasts.
Even the following day felt surprisingly easy; the multivitamins made a substantial difference in my energy level . I was able to attend PHS’s daily rally outside the John F. Kennedy Federal Building in Boston, where the volunteer medical staff confirmed that my vitals were better than expected in the context of fasting. Still, I became incredibly tired on the walk back to my apartment.
On day three, I canvassed all day for a local Boston ballot initiative. The job involved standing all day, so — in collaboration with the health team — I chose to eat a small breakfast in the morning to ensure my safety. I allotted myself 240 calories—the amount that one Oxfam study found Palestinians in Gaza are forced to survive on daily. I made it through the day without thinking about my fast too much, and felt physically okay, albeit a bit sore from standing all day.
But the next morning, the fourth day of my fast, everything hit me all at once. Upon waking up, I immediately felt weak. My stomach felt empty, I was lightheaded as I got out of bed, and my thighs felt like I had done heavy squats. I didn’t just feel weak—I felt frail. By the end of the day, my lower back hurt as well, and I had to use a heating pad to ease the pain enough to fall asleep.
The fifth day was surprisingly easier than the fourth: My thighs were still sore, but I stayed busy all day working at home, which kept my mind off of my hunger and weakness. But my arm began hurting for no clear reason, and I felt a few bouts of light-headedness when I neglected to take my daily electrolytes.
I woke on the sixth day—the last of my fast, and the day which I am writing this—to an empty stomach and the strongest urge to eat I’d experienced throughout the week. With the help of water, electrolytes, Vitamin B1, and iron supplements, I was able to stay focused on the light at the end of the tunnel.
Still, a final challenge lay ahead as I neared the end of my fast. In cases of real starvation, those who are able to resume a normal diet can be at risk of “refeeding syndrome,” in which the sudden flood of nutrients and electrolytes overwhelms a body that has adapted to malnutrition over time. Refeeding syndrome can cause significant health risks and even sudden death in some cases, and though I was at significantly less risk after a short fast with medical supervision than those recovering from long-term starvation, I still got sick and had bouts of diarrhea on the first day of refeeding.
The frailness I felt during my fast is what will stick with me when I think of those who are currently starving in Gaza. Unlike myself and my fellow PHS strikers, who have access to nutritional supplements and clean water, Palestinians in Gaza have no way of knowing when their hunger will end, and must suffer the effects of starvation without medical assistance amid Israel’s demolition of the Gaza Strip’s hospitals and healthcare infrastructure. As of September 30, more than 450 people have died from starvation in Gaza, and the United Nations’s affiliated authority on food insecurity has confirmed widespread man-made famine in the area.
In previous instances of fasting, I have been able to ignore the discomfort of my stomach signaling hunger and go about my day. But the pain I felt in this case, particularly in my thighs and legs, made doing so exceedingly more difficult. Palestinians in Gaza are not afforded the opportunity to simply go about their days: They are fleeing for their lives, searching for aid and shelter, and looking after their children, all while struggling with profound starvation. They are unable to wait out the storm in the comfort of their own homes, as I have done.
As of now, PHS’s demands have not been met: Clark has not yet sponsored the Block the Bombs bill, nor have Warren or Markey introduced a Senate version of the bill. The campaign is over, but our struggle is not, and we will keep pushing for this bill, which is currently sponsored by fifty-four Democratic House Representatives. As for me, I can only hope that as my fast ends, I do not become desensitized to the atrocities in Gaza, as so many in the West have—and that I never take food for granted again.