Since October 7th, a troubling trend has emerged—and it’s only grown worse with time. Videos and photos of children who’ve lost a parent in the IDF, or widows facing life after unimaginable loss, are being used as emotional bait in fundraising campaigns. What should be private moments of grief have been turned into content. What should be compassion has become performance.
Let’s be clear: if you want to give a gift to a grieving family, do it. Quietly. Kindly. Respectfully. But filming them, editing their pain into a shareable moment, and attaching it to a donation link? That’s not generosity. That’s exploitation.
Why is it that in order to be seen as deserving of help, these families are being filmed and posted for public consumption? Why do their faces need to appear on someone else’s feed in order for their suffering to count?
And here’s a red flag that can’t be ignored: if you truly want to help, why do you show up in half the videos? Why are the same faces—those of the "generous" givers—front and center again and again, smiling, narrating, posing with children who have just buried a parent? If the help is real, why is it always branded?
This isn't charity. It's self-promotion wearing a mask of compassion.
Since October 7th, people have been desperate to do something—anything—to support victims of terror and war. But when that instinct becomes wrapped up in follower counts, aesthetic videos, and emotionally manipulative storytelling, we cross a line. This trend is continuing in an unchecked and unethical way, and it’s time to call it what it is: a violation of dignity.
These families—especially the children—are not props. Their stories are not yours to tell. Their grief is not a tool for your personal gain. And consent isn’t real if it’s given under pressure, in the fog of trauma, or with no understanding of how widely that video will spread.
If you genuinely want to help, then give without filming. Support trusted organizations. Show up without needing credit. Because no one should have to perform their pain in order to be worthy of support.
We owe these families so much more than curated sympathy. We owe them privacy, respect, and the right to grieve without being turned into someone else’s content strategy.
Let’s stop confusing virality with virtue. Let’s do better.