Bring hope to forgotten conflicts
14 July 2026
Why does compassion tremble at foreign walls? Unearthing the geography of empathy’s fall.
It has borders not defined by physical lines, but invisible ones created by the comfort of people who visibly resign.
What lines does empathy refuse to cross? The constant dance with conscience as it decides whose suffering reaches us.
The quiet geography is stitched in our ease. While youth are swallowed by chaos across the seas.
They have the same aspirations as me, and allow their dreams to run free. Yet the world deems their lives less important than me.
Some humanitarian crises create global movements, dominate headlines in the news, and are the focus areas of major organisations. While some stories never leave the refugee camps. Some stories become buried along with them. The uncomfortable truth is that there is so much noise in the world that many crises fade into silence. The truth is not to rank suffering but to ask the question why empathy travels unequally. It is so easy to scroll past, watch from a distance, look the other way. I learned how exposure shapes empathy. I deliberately looked in the silence and asked the crucial question. What stories stay buried?
It was only a year ago when I wrote my poem ‘Can You Hear It?’ for the HART Prize for Human Rights. Writing a piece that called out the world’s indifference was unlike anything I have ever done before. Putting pencil to paper and releasing the words that constantly swirled in my head was the beginning of how I would make noise in the silence. A year later, I continue to advocate for young people to have a seat at the table in these human rights conversations as the Youth Advocacy Intern here at HART. It is now coming to the end of this amazing opportunity, but my connection with HART will not. HART’s focus on ‘forgotten crises’ and conflicts that are often censored or hidden from the media has shaped my outlook on humanitarian advocacy in ways I will carry forever.
To be on the other side of the HART Prize, from being a second prize winner to now this year helping facilitate it, has been the most rewarding experience of my life. I sit here struggling to find words that encompass all that I have learned, and somehow convey it all in a few paragraphs to a world that can feel numb. The words sit on my tongue. I have a lot to say. And I suspect I always will, especially about the human rights conversations that I am passionate about. As I take steps towards a future where I will continue to make noise to cut through the silence of indifference, I also look back on the stories in shadows that followed me home on my journey and have broken the borders of empathy’s geography. These are stories I will always keep with me.
Now I am back home, surrounded by comfort and familiarity. It is so easy to be wrapped up in distractions and live a life untouched by what happens across the world. I do not want to sit comfortably. It is, in fact, being uncomfortable, taking issue with the chaos that others are so well accustomed to, that can make an impact. The stories that have followed me home, crossing borders that geography could not contain, are symbols of young people’s resilience that illuminate something beautiful that cuts through the dark. All over the world, there are youth just like me who have no idea who I am. But I know who they are – through their stories, through their resilience, and through their refusal to be erased.
I’ve learned that advocacy is not perfect words. It is not simply making a speech that acknowledges a tragedy when it occurs. Nor is it about journalism that shifts these stories into another abstract statistic. It is not about speaking for people but amplifying these human narratives that rarely ever reach the surface. Advocacy is the resilience of the voices that others have tried to ignore. And perhaps the greatest challenge is not simply learning empathy. It’s learning endurance. To not sit too comfortably watching. To keep breaking down these walls. To keep listening. To keep fighting. And to refuse to let these stories disappear quietly.
If empathy has borders, then every story we carry is how we learn to dissolve them. And we must be brave enough to let these lines disappear.
Written by Halima Kasim, HART’s Youth Advocacy Intern (April-July 2026)