This film is the culmination of years spent searching for an answer to a question that was presented to me back in 2015 on my first visit to Palestine. I was photographing a group of American high schoolers on a cultural immersion tour through the Middle East. They were gathered in front of a massive pile of rubble that had been a house until an Israeli missile destroyed it, killing the entire family trapped inside. As the tour guide shared this story, the sounds of panicked clucks and flapping wings emulated from an open air slaughterhouse as bird after bird’s throat was slit. Feeling literally torn between human and animal tragedy, I took photos of both the tour group at the rubble and a few of the slaughter happening just behind it. Our Palestinian driver, Raja, was standing near the back of the group with me, watching me look back and forth in pain at the overwhelming suffering around. He came up to me and asked in earnest, “Kelly, are you sad about the people or about the chickens?” I told him they both made me very sad . Raja nodded, but responded by saying “Palestinians can’t afford to care about animals. We can only hope to survive.”

These questions haunted me out of Palestine. For months, I wrestled to reconcile my commitment to animals in a world overwhelmed with human suffering. The idea that my activism came from nothing more than a place of privilege and safety in my own life was utterly devastating.