Amir, 9 years old
Today’s square for We Were, We Are I connected with Amir’s father on Instagram through the account he runs for their family.
His story
At nine years old, Amir remembers life before this latest escalation of aggression by Israel. Is it better to have memories of happier times, with school, friends, dreams, and a bounty of food? Or is it better not knowing what you’re missing? Some might argue that if you’ve never had it, you can’t miss it, but the truth is, the human spirit needs joy to grow and to hope. Without moments of personal growth, laughter, learning, and play, life becomes survival alone—and we should never ask a child to fight for their very survival without also knowing the fullness of living.
Amir was just like any other little boy full of curiosity and mischief. He loved to chase after his brother Tamer, giggling so loud that the whole house echoed. His favorite color was bright blue, the color of the sky he used to watch while lying on the grass. He adored animals, especially cats every time he saw one on the street, he would stop, crouch down, and try to befriend it. In school, Amir loved drawing. He would fill pages with houses, trees, and smiling stick-figure families holding hands. His teacher once said, “Amir has a heart that paints everything brighter than it is.”
Before the war, Amir dreamed of becoming a football player. He would kick an old, worn-out ball in the yard for hours, imagining himself as his favorite star, scoring goals while his brother cheered. He wasn’t just a boy in Gaza he was a dreamer, an artist, a lover of animals, and a child with a future he believed in.
Now, after losing his arms and legs, the world often sees only his suffering. But Amir is still that boy inside the one who loved blue skies, cats, and drawing his family with smiles. He is not a headline. He is not just a victim. He is Amir, a child who deserves to be remembered not only for his pain but for his laughter, his dreams, and his boundless light.
– Muhammad
This portrayal of Amir from someone who knows him best, his dad, brought me to tears. Every child, every person, deserves to be seen as a full person and not just a 2-dimensional statistic or headline. With every dream, preference and complexity that comes with their humanity. Amir and his family are displaced and living in a tent in North Gaza.
His design
We will never know what kind of life Amir would have had if he hadn’t lost his hands and legs. What we do know is that his life was forever changed.
And so, for his commemorative square, I’ve chosen a soccer ball designed by Maricita. It sits atop a simple yet traditional granny square to symbolize how much more growing into himself he still has ahead. And the light blue shade of the background will hopefully remind him of the sky he loves to look up at.
While simple in design, my goal was to let his story shine through without any unnecessary input from me. I believe that our role as pro-Palestine advocates is to uplift Palestinian voices, not speak for them or over them.
Why
Remembering the lives lost in Gaza matters. Every life matters and every life is worth remembering.
They were people before they became statistics. Before they became a headline.
Everyone has seen videos of Amir after his quadruple amputation. But how many of us have bore witness to who he was before that day?
And despite all the promises of a ceasefire, his challenges are far from over. Amir and his family remain in Gaza under constant quadcopter buzzing, bombings, tanks and food and resource shortages.
Despite the heartbreak of losing both his arms and legs, Amir is surviving day by day, showing us what true resilience and strength in the face of adversity looks like.
Help me keep this project alive
If you know a story that deserves to be commemorated in We Were, We Are, you can share it with me, knowing that I will treat your loved ones with the utmost love, honor, and respect.
This memorial quilt is not only to remember the lives lost, but also to highlight the resilience of those still living despite all odds.
