Honourable senators, I recently learned the story of a young girl named Malak. Malak is just 13 years old. When the refugee tent she was sleeping in with her family was hit by shrapnel, her father lost his life and she lost one of her eyes.

Holding the youngest of her six remaining siblings, just four months old, born after her father had died, Malak said to the BBC, “I carry a pain that even mountains cannot bear.”

A year and a half ago, I rose in this house to speak on the conflict in Israel and Palestine. I condemned the actions of Hamas and the taking of hostages, and I mourned the loss of life on both sides.

There’s a certain guilt I feel being a Muslim in a safe, comfortable place these days. I have spoken on this conflict, but have I spoken loud enough? Has my voice been heard? Have I fulfilled my duties as a human being?

In the year and a half that has passed, 56,000 Palestinians — 17,000 of whom are believed to be children — and 1,700 Israelis have lost their lives. Over 8,000 Israelis and 100,000 Palestinians — 1 in 20 Gazans — have been injured. More than 180 journalists and 220 aid workers have also lost their lives in the conflict. These numbers are staggering; they should shock every one of us, and they continue to grow.

I worry the world is forgetting the thousands of men, women and children who are suffering from a shortage of food, supplies and medical care. I worry the growing numbers of casualties and displaced populations are slowly becoming statistics instead of a horrifying picture of suffering caused by war.

We cannot stand by and allow this loss of life to continue. We cannot allow this devastation to be seen as normal. We cannot be selective about human rights. The death of every civilian on either side of this conflict should outrage all of us.

Young Malak dreams of becoming an eye doctor when she’s older, so she can help others who have suffered like her. As inspired as I feel by her empathy in the face of immeasurable pain, I fear for her future and the future of other children like her. What kind of world will we be leaving to them? How many kids will be given the chance to fulfill their dreams? When that future generation looks back on us, how will we justify our actions?

As the tragic images and stories continue to emerge, I — like many others — have stopped watching much of the news. But the humanitarian crisis in Gaza is not just a tragedy but a test — of our values, and of whether we truly believe in the equal worth of every life. I hope we do not fail this test by failing the people of Gaza.

Honourable senators, peace is not built on silence.