Beyond the Headlines
Aryana Mahasseni
Regardless of politics or borders, the lives of innocent civilians should never be collateral. That’s something I’ve always believed; but lately, it’s not just a belief. It’s personal.
I am Iranian American. I live in the United States, go to school, have plans for college, and spend afternoons with friends. My life is, in many ways, safe and predictable. But my Iranian family, and many others, have been living in fear. And there’s nothing predictable about that.
Recently, as conflict in the region has escalated, I have been forced to see what war is from more than a distant concept, but as a terrifying reality. My aunt has had to take shelter in a basement garage, terrified for her life. My cousin lives directly across from a targeted and struck building. The impact was so powerful, it shattered the windows of her apartment and tore bricks and plaster from the walls. Places that once felt like home no longer feel safe.
These are no longer headlines to me. These are people I love. And I think that is something we all forget, too often. How behind every headline, every explosion, every number added to a casualty count, are families. Mothers. Children. Neighbors. Students. Teachers. People whose lives are changed forever by choices they had no part in making.
I’m not writing this as a political statement. I’m writing as a reminder that humanity must supersede ideology. No matter which country someone is in, no matter the conflict or justification, there is nothing that makes the suffering of everyday people okay.
It’s easy, when you live far from the danger, to keep scrolling. It’s easy to see it as just another international dispute. But when it relates to your own family and loved ones, it becomes personal and impossible to ignore.
I think what hurts the most is how numb the world can become to this kind of suffering. When we hear about attacks in faraway places, we treat them like background noise. But we can’t afford to be numb. Not when real people are living through nightmares.
There are so many people watching their families in fear while restlessly sitting powerless from across the ocean. We are caught between gratitude for our safety and guilt for our distance. However, we can’t let compassion depend on proximity. We can’t only care when it’s our own country, our own people. Lives are lives. Pain is pain. And every civilian who suffers deserves to be seen, heard, and mourned.
This is not about choosing sides. It’s about choosing humanity. If there’s one thing I hope people take away from this, it’s that the cost of conflict is never just political. It’s deeply, devastatingly human. And it’s time we started treating it that way.
So, next time you see a headline regarding any country, remember there are families behind it. Next time you read a number, imagine the names. And next time you discuss war, think about the people who are just trying to survive it.
They deserve more than to be statistics. They deserve peace, as we all do.
Aryana Mahasseni is a high school student passionate about social justice, environmental issues, and exploring different cultures. Alongside her writing, she enjoys playing guitar and songwriting, often finding inspiration in her experiences. Aryana also cherishes spending time with friends and family and aims to use storytelling as a tool for advocacy, to inspire change, and to strengthen community bonds. Aryana is an ISSD graduate.
