For as long as I can remember, I’ve held a belief that guides how I see the world: I stand for humanity, I stand for justice, for the oppressed, and for the voiceless. I don’t believe anyone’s worth should be defined by their religion, skin color, culture, or nationality.

As children, we instinctively reject injustice. We didn’t ask where a person comes from or who they are as a condition to help them; we saw a person in need, and we acted. That natural, pure sense of justice was our first compass. But as we grow older, these instincts are often clouded by divisions that distract us from what truly matters: our shared humanity.

In some parts of the world, political correctness is often seen as a virtue. However, when taken too far, it can result in a form of neutrality that avoids addressing real injustice, especially when the power dynamics are unbalanced. In such situations, I usually state it: I am not politically correct, and I don’t even try to be. I am biased, and I own my bias. I am biased because I refuse to pretend that we live in a world where human rights are universal for all. We are not equal, and not every life matters, at least not for the systems in place.

In a world where power structures determine whose voice is heard and whose humanity is valued, I refuse to stay neutral as it can be a form of complicity, because it allows injustices to continue without challenge.

I am biased not against people, but in favor of those who are resilient, who fight for justice, and who challenge the systems that oppress them. When we stand for justice and equity; it’s a necessary stance to rebalance power in a world where it’s too often misused.

In this world, “power over” is often the default. Systems has long favored the few over the many. So, When I say, “I stand with those who resist oppression, not with those who perpetuate it,” I’m fighting for what is right.

This bias isn’t born of hatred. It’s a bias born of love for the silenced, for those who have been pushed to the margins by systems that try to erase our humanity. It’s a bias for justice, for standing with those who have not only survived but thrived through adversity, and for creating space for voices that are often ignored or drowned out.

So yes, I am biased. But this bias isn’t about ignoring the value of others; it’s about embracing humanity often overlooked, the voices that are drowned out, and the justice that is denied. I stand with those who refuse to be silenced, who fight for dignity and justice not because of their religion, ethnicity, or background, but because they are human, and their rights, lives, and dignity matter.

In a world where those with privilege and authority dominate, I choose to be biased. I choose to stand with the resilient, not the oppressor. I believe it’s necessary to break free from the notion that neutrality is the best stance. Sometimes, in the face of injustice, neutrality is complicity. Neutrality is betrayal.

I am biased! & I stand against oppression, harm, and genocide. If you intentionally support systems that harm innocent people or perpetuate violence, I cannot stand with you. I cannot remain neutral in the face of such cruelty, because neutrality is a luxury I cannot afford.

When I say I am biased, it is not just for the voiceless or the oppressed; it is personal. It is rooted in my pride as a Palestinian, and in the pride of all those who continue to rise, to resist, to exist and to demand their rightful place in this world. I stand with them because our fight is one and the same.

And in this fight, I will never be neutral. I am biased, and I will always stand on the side of justice.