For over a year and a half, Anas Jamal al-Sharif refused to leave northern Gaza, documenting the destruction and loss that others tried to hide. Tonight, Israel silenced his voice, but his final words, written on April 6, will echo far beyond his death.

Why demand entry for foreign reporters when Palestinian journalists are already risking—and losing—their lives to tell the truth? Real solidarity means saving journalists' lives, amplifying their voices, and naming the genocide they expose daily.

How did The Washington Post's coverage differ between Israel’s bombing of Gaza hospitals and Iran’s strike on an Israeli hospital? Why does the paper attempt to frame Palestinian victims within a “complex operational context”? And when does language become a tool of bias toward the Israeli narrative?

In the accelerating context of genocide, is the “pace” of death in Gaza outstripping journalists’ ability to capture human stories? How can they be expected to take their time crafting narratives amid hunger, displacement, and death? And to what extent can postwar documentation hold journalistic value in preserving collective memory and pursuing accountability for the perpetrators?

Hungry journalists covering the story of starvation in Gaza, surviving on salt to stay alive, selling their work equipment to secure a “sack of flour” for their children, shedding the “shame” of publicly asking for food, and enduring the harshest media environment just to maintain “continuous coverage”.

Female journalists in Jordan are harnessing AI chatbots to boost productivity, enhance digital safety, and find emotional support, but their growing reliance also raises critical concerns about privacy, ethics, and the responsible use of emerging technologies in journalism. This article explores how these tools are reshaping their workflows while navigating the challenges of trust and accountability.