Hope is local

One of the most liberating realizations I've had is accepting that, as a migrant in Germany, I will inevitably miss many moments in Catalonia—birthdays, festivities, even funerals, as well as political developments and inspiring movements I wish I could engage with more deeply.

My identity has only strengthened in the distance. Now, I cherish the olive trees, the wine, and the rocky mountains that lie just miles from the sea more intensely than ever. Yet, my daily life, my communities, my home, are no longer there.

The transition has been a process of decoupling, letting go, and reconnecting. It has involved embracing difference, accepting tension, becoming a migrant, expressing my true self in another language, and adapting to a new system of rules, values, rhythms, and boundaries.

I left my homeland because capitalism left me no choice. I had to decide between living a life centered entirely around projects for companies I dislike, while spending months in remote hotels or reclaiming my time at the cost of leaving behind everything familiar. My dreams were never about owning expensive German cars or achieving influential positions; they were simply about reading every book I can grasp and running freely through the Alps.

That dream came true, and in my exploration, I realized capitalism's cruelty extended beyond my own family —it has inflicted suffering on billions since its inception. I experienced racism when not being offered an apartment on the premise I look Syrian, through the aggressive gazes of police eager to intimidate us during protests, and through insults hurled by Zionists and landlords whose prideful guilts have never prevented any genocide.

This has filled me with despair to witness, with each visit home, the gradual dying and erasure of the green pines, rivers, and warm, comforting summers. Capitalists from fossil fuel and animal industries have stolen our landscapes and livelihoods, bought out our governments, and turned tourism and services into the only viable option for Catalans, forcing them to abandon their lands for precarious temporal work.

I have tried to resist from afar, supporting online groups dedicated to protecting our coasts and forests from the capital's endless appetite for expansion—cement monocultures and theme parks for tourists. I've contributed economically with my savings, advocated for our cause, and gathered others to join the fight. We achieved some successes and protected various sites, but I grew exhausted from endless hours behind screens, disconnected from the tangible land and its people.

It was time to physically organize and localize my efforts. The goal was transforming the automobile and animal industries in Franconia (Germany), and reshaping the sports goods sector into a force promoting health and minimalist lifestyles. Then, the genocide began. There was no question this required immediate and undivided attention, I can not think of anything more urgent than this.

Over the past years, my activism and research channel into German politics, fighting Germany's institutional and military complicity in Israel’s ethnic cleansing and genocide of Palestinians, as well as capitalism’s accelerating global ecocide.

At times, I felt hopeless, scrolling through news of the world burning, of murdered children, journalists, and doctors. Yet, I chose to become part of the struggle for systematic change—to end colonialism and capitalism once and for all. Our struggle is not primarily about spreading information or revealing truths; it’s about confronting power, fostering class consciousness, building genuine international solidarity, and embodying radical generosity.

If we can relinquish our obsession with careerism, our privilege-induced inability to deeply commit to a place, and risk something so that others may thrive, there is reason for hope. If we ground our struggle where our feet stand, if we love beyond what our arms can reach, then hope becomes natural—not born from optimism alone, but rooted in the real connections and shared struggles with people who, on a daily basis, show me that another world, one far more just and beautiful, is fu**ing possible.