Militant Islam Monitor > Satire >
July 14, 2026
MIM: Muslim Zioni$t grifters like Rawan Gabrielle Osman never miss a chance to remind their gullible and fawning mainly Jewish fans and that they are under constant threat of death by their fellow 'religion of peaceniks' aka Muslims.
Influencer aka media whore Osman obsessively documents her jet setting from departure to arrival like a Roaming Gnome on speed. Her destinations range from her 'heimat' in Germany where her mother, adult son and other Syrian relatives reside.
Osman was recently flown to Toronto on their Jewish donors dime, to speak at the 'World Symposium On Anti Zionism' which was organized by Tafsik "We are Maccabee warriors in the battle against antisemitism both in the battle against antisemitism both in Canada and globally",Stop Antisemitism And CAEF The Canadian Antisemitism Foundation.CAEF has provided Canadians with programs to bridge understanding across ethno-racial and faith communities, to see the humanity in all, and to confront discrimination, including racism and antisemitism.https://www.caef.ca/about-us https://tafsik.com/event/wsaa/
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MIM: Self proclaimed Muslim 'moderates', 'reformers' and 'Zioni$ts' and "Recovered Antisemites" like Rawan Osman flaunt their 'death threats' as proof of authenticity with fatwas being a certificate of provenance.The Muslim grifters whose 'halal epiphanies'' made them decide that Judeophilia is an infinitely more ore lucrative'profess'ion than jihad
I am Syrian-Lebanese. I was born in Damascus. I was raised on Hezbollah's version of history.
My family has paid a price for my choices.
I live under threat.
I am telling you this not for sympathy, but because who is speaking matters.
Syrian-born activist Rawan Osman noted that one of the toughest challenges in her public transformation was missing her son's high school graduation. She made the difficult decision not to attend the ceremony to protect her son's safety amid the intense backlash she faced for her pro-Israel activism. [1, 2, 3]
"The only moment that I felt was really tough was missing my son's graduation from high school, but I did not want anyone to associate me with him for his own safety,' she told ILTV. 'Other than that, I do not think that I'm suffering. I'm really happy with...
Rawan Osman is a Syrian-born activist and commentator who has openly discussed facing severe backlash, including death threats and family rejection, due to her public transition from a Hezbollah supporter to a vocal pro-Israel advocate. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
Osman, who grew up in a Hezbollah-controlled area of Lebanon, frequently speaks about the personal safety risks she navigates for her activism. She has highlighted these escalating dangers on social media, and frequently speaks on how groups like Hezbollah and Hamas sabotage regional coexistence. Due to the highly sensitive nature of these threats, she has stated that her activism requires significant personal sacrifice. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
Rawan Osman, a Syrian-Lebanese peace activist and pro-Israel advocate, has routinely faced severe death threats and online harassment due to her outspoken condemnation of Hamas, Hezbollah, and antisemitism. Because of her public transformation from an anti-Israel activist to a vocal Zionist, she has become a primary target for extremist backlash. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
Rawan Osman on Harassment and Threats
Rawan Osman often discusses the psychological toll and constant security risks associated with her activism, choosing to view her attackers with a sense of perspective and resilience rather than fear. [1, 2, 3]
Rawan Osman on her public platform and security
Osman has detailed the reality of living in the public eye while advocating against extremist ideologies, highlighting the personal cost and security measures she must enforce for both herself and her family. [1]
"Although she does take security measures based on the recommendations of a criminal investigator assigned to her case in Germany, Osman said she has made 'compromises and sacrifices' to continue her work.
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Erbil the capital of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, has a predominantly Muslim culture, with thousands of mosques across the city.
Out of the estimated 1.2 to 1.4 million people in Erbil, the vast majority—roughly 95% to 97%—are Muslim. This translates to approximately 1.14 million to 1.35 million Muslim residents, primarily consisting of Sunni Kurds, along with Turkmen and Arab populations. [1, 2, 3, 4]
The remaining 3% to 5% of the population includes sizable minority groups, most notably the roughly 250,000 to 300,000 Christians in the region. [1, 2]
Erbil is nominally part of Iraq, but it is directly controlled and administered by the semi-autonomous Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG).
While the KRG oversees internal security, civil administration, and the Peshmerga armed forces, the city remains subject to the overarching Iraqi Constitution and shares resources, foreign policy, and federal courts with Baghdad.
Current Safety Conditions
- Geopolitical Risks: Erbil frequently experiences drone and missile strikes from neighboring Iran, usually targeting U.S. bases, airports, or suspected Israeli intelligence assets. [1, 2, 3]
- Official Travel Advisories: The U.S. Department of State maintains a strict Level 4: Do Not Traveladvisory for all of Iraq—including the Kurdistan Region—due to terrorism, kidnapping, and armed conflict. [1]
- Anti-Israel Hostility: Iraqi and KRG laws have heavily cracked down on ties to Israel. Anyone publicly associated with Judaism or Israel risks severe harassment, detention, or violent threats from local militant groups and security services. [1, 2, 3]
- Local Jewish Population: There is no publicly recognized or functioning Jewish community in Erbil. The few individuals of Jewish descent or heritage largely keep a low profile or practice in secret
Erbil International Airport is jointly administered by the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) and the federal Government of Iraq, with day-to-day operations and management directed by Airport Director General Ahmed Hoshyar. [1, 2]
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February 2 · 2026
Just outside Erbil, in the village of Alqosh, stands the tomb of Prophet Nahum — a quiet yet powerful reminder of how deeply intertwined this land is with Jewish history.
Nahum, the biblical prophet who warned of the fall of Nineveh, is believed to be buried here. For centuries, Iraqi Jews made pilgrimage to this site, especially on Shavuot, praying in a place that predates modern borders, identities, and conflicts.
Today, the tomb stands as a testament to Kurdistan's layered past: Jewish, Christian, Yazidi, and Muslim — all rooted in the same soil. Preserving it is not just about saving a Jewish site; it is about protecting the shared memory of Mesopotamia itself.
(More on the video later)
#ProphetNahum #jewishhistory #MesopotamianHistory #iraq #erbil #judaism #Torah
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Post
Taajeel, the abandoned Jewish quarter of Erbil, lies in ruins.
A swastika now stains one of its walls.
And yet today, around 250 Jewish families live in Kurdistan, Iraq.
Some Jews told me they walk the streets wearing kippas without fear.
Iraqi Kurdistan proves that an alternative reality can be built
when there is the will to correct history.
Taajeel, the abandoned Jewish quarter of Erbil, lies in ruins.
A swastika now stains one of its walls.
And yet today, around 250 Jewish families live in Kurdistan, Iraq.
Some Jews told me they walk the streets wearing kippas without fear.
Iraqi Kurdistan proves that an alternative reality can be built
when there is the will to correct history.
·https://www.facebook.com/osman.rawan/posts/taajeel-the-abandoned-jewish-quarter-of-erbil-lies-in-ruinsa-swastika-now-stains/25811726921828860/
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Feb 6 2026
I turn 42 this February, and here's the secret behind my clear skin, something I learned from my Damascene grandmother: Aleppo soap, made simply from olive oil and laurel leaves. I bought these bars at a small stand in the bazaar in Erbil, Kurdistan, Iraq—but they are made in Afrin, Syria, a region long known for this craft. They cost less than ten percent of what I usually pay for "Alepposeife" soaps made in Germany. Now let's see which one delivers better quality.
#efrin#alepposoap #AleppoSeife #Aleppo
https://x.com/RawaneOsmane/status/2019722235582296351?s=20
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Raised to Hate Israel, Rawan Osman Thought for Herself — and Outgrew It"
"I grew up in a Hezbollah stronghold in Lebanon's Bekaa Valley. Israel was not a country in my education. It was a crime. A wound kept open on purpose. I believed it. Repeated it. Then I met Jews."
I grew up in a Hezbollah stronghold in Lebanon's Bekaa Valley. Israel was not a country in my education. It was a crime. A wound kept open on purpose. Every funeral, every slogan, every sermon pointed in the same direction: there, across the border, is the source of your suffering. Believe it. Repeat it. Pass it on.
I believed it. I repeated it. For years.
Then I moved to France. And I met Jews.
Not the abstraction. Not the enemy. People. Neighbors. Colleagues. And the collision between what I had been taught and what I was seeing in front of me was so violent — so intellectually embarrassing — that I had no honest choice but to start over. To read. To ask. To dismantle, brick by brick, everything I had been given as truth.
What I found on the other side of that dismantling was not just the absence of hatred. It was something I had not expected: admiration.
Let me be precise about what I am defending and what I am not.
I am not defending every Israeli policy. I am not defending any government unconditionally. I am not asking anyone to check their critical faculties at the door.
Israel is the political expression of that tradition. An improbable state. A people who returned to their ancestral land after two thousand years of exile and built, in decades, what their neighbors have not managed in centuries. Not because they are superior, but because they were shaped by a tradition that takes civilization seriously.
That is what is under attack. Not a government. Not a policy. A civilization.
I am Syrian-Lebanese. I was born in Damascus. I was raised on Hezbollah's version of history. My family has paid a price for my choices. I live under threat.
I am telling you this not for sympathy, but because who is speaking matters.
I am not a westerner who discovered Israel on a Birthright trip. I am not someone who stumbled into this position from comfort.
Erbil city center. Listening to Am Yisrael Chai. Watch what happens when people recognize me. Love to the Kurds 🤍 #Erbil #Kurdistan #Iraq#amyisraelchai
https://www.facebook.com/osman.rawan/videos/erbil-city-centerlistening-to-am-yisrael-chaiwatch-what-happens-when-people-reco/2722403348159229/
Rawan Osman
The Kurdish people are simply wonderful.
Would I be safe in Cairo, Beirut or Damascus the way I was in Erbil?
May the rest of the Middle East learn to treat their own people and their guests the way Israel and Kurdistan Iraq do.
Rawan Osman on Her Erbil Experience
Rawan Osman shares her thoughts on her time in the Kurdistan Region. [1]
"Would I be safe in Cairo, Beirut or Damascus the way I was in Erbil? May the rest of the Middle East learn to treat their own people and their guests the way Israel and Kurdistan Iraq do."
X · RawaneOsmane · 5 months ago
"A spontaneous trip to Erbil turned out to be one of my most intriguing adventures. It reminded me that the history of the so-called Middle East is dense, colorful and woven thread by thread, like these rugs."
Facebook · Rawan Osman · 5 months ago
Rawan Osman On Her Nazi Death Camp Visit
My home is now in Germany — as my ties with Jews and Israelis have made it impossible for me to move back to Lebanon — and I'm concerned what kind of Europe my son will see in the years to come
And yet, today Germany and Israel enjoy a positive relationship in which they cooperate on an array of initiatives, ranging from education to culture to security.
Last year, I had the privilege of visiting Poland for March of the Living — a nearly three-mile march from the Auschwitz concentration camp to the Birkenau extermination camp on Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Ironically, it was there, while touring the depths of human depravity, that I saw the beauty of humanity. I didn't find it in the horrific displays of abuse and torture, but instead I witnessed it when Jewish visitors at Auschwitz were moved by the presence of our Arab delegation.
This year, I again joined Sharaka's delegation of Arab influencers at the March of the Living. Last year's delegation was a breakthrough. This year was an affirmation.
I anticipate that more Muslims will visit Auschwitz on Holocaust Remembrance Day as the word spreads, forming a new alliance of tolerance that counters the axis of resistance to change in the Middle East.*
If Germany and the Jewish community can make peace, I firmly believe that Jews and Arabs can continue to do the same."
Exile
My skin is thick, but last week in Israel was too much even for me.
People see the shiny dress, the big smile, the glamorous pictures from the Tel Aviv Stock Exchange where I received a prestigious award while people showered me with love and respect. What they do not see is that I went through some of my lowest moments since October 7th, precisely because some of those who hurt me most are supposed to be on my side.
An Israeli friend who attended the ceremony left before I even received the award. No congratulations, no message afterward, nothing. People later told me he was jealous.
Jealous of what exactly?
Believe me, in my life, there is nothing to be jealous of.
A few days later, I went for dinner at a friend's house in Jerusalem. He told me he had bought a bottle of Lebanese arak made in Chtaura, the town where I grew up.
I do not even drink arak, yet holding that bottle sent shivers down my spine. I was holding a piece of home.
Unconsciously, he had invited me to mourn. He is a convert himself, also cut off from parts of the Arab world and from family. On October 7th, his estranged brother messaged him asking if he was still alive. For one brief moment, he thought sympathy had motivated the message. Then another message followed:
"I wish you and your filthy family dead."
I showed him the message I received from my younger sister on October 8th. She insisted the massacre was Israeli propaganda. Her sympathy was entirely with the Palestinians. The conversation ended with "shame on you" before she blocked me.
I still do not know what was worse: the first conversation I had with my mother after October 7th or the last.
How does one process such hatred from one's own family? The answer is that you do not. You simply absorb it while trying to remain sane.
At dinner, I sat across from my friend's daughter. Her partner had recently been injured in Lebanon. She would not greet me, barely looked at me, and when our eyes crossed by accident, she rolled hers.
That moment stayed with me because it captured something painful and difficult to explain: exile does not always happen between enemies. Sometimes it happens among people who should understand you best.
A religious convert in Jerusalem once told me that even if I converted a hundred times, I would never become a Jew. A family member told me years ago that they wished I had died of cancer before seeing the day I visited Israel.
My son has paid a price too. In Modiin, teenagers called him a Nazi because he lives in Germany. When I missed his high school graduation because of my work, I watched the ceremony from afar wondering whether his teachers thought I was simply a terrible mother. The truth is that I wanted nobody to know he was my son because I wanted to protect him from the hatred directed at me.
And still, despite all of this, I cannot betray what I know to be true.
I do not do what I do for money, applause, or awards. If anything, the higher I rise publicly, the lower I fall in the eyes of many people I once loved or expected solidarity from.
I do what I do because Israel is worth it to me.
Israel, the project that materialized. The model that defies the hatred, tribalism, victimhood, and fatalism that destroyed so much of our region.
Every Israeli or Jew whose heart becomes consumed by darkness after October 7th is a victory for the axis of evil. I cannot allow that. Even when I am exhausted. Even when I feel humiliated. Even when I feel completely alone.
If you are ever jealous of pro-Israel activists, especially those who came from the Arab world, remember this:
Many of them are living in exile.
And sometimes friendly fire hurts more than the enemy.
#israel #october7
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March 3 · 2026
On Friday, I flew into Israel with my 17-year-old son—likely on one of the last flights before the airspace closed.
At security, sweet Israelis tried to warn me about the balagan that was about to begin.
"I know," I said. "Yihye tov."
They smiled and answered: "Yihye tov."
My son almost freaked out.
So I asked him:
If we had the chance to witness the fall of the Berlin Wall, would we stay away?
This time, I couldn't argue the way I do in synagogues. I couldn't tell him that Emunah precedes logic. But the truth is, Emunah (faith) has been my compass since October 7.
With absolute certainty—not a shred of doubt—I have said it hundreds of times, even before skeptical crowds in Israel and around the world:
Israel will prevail.
The so-called "Axis of Resistance" committed suicide on October 7.
They are already smoke—they just don't know it yet.
And with that same certainty, I say: the fantasy called "Palestine" will not survive this war.
Do I bet my money on it?
I am here. In Israel. With my only son.
Not theorizing from Europe.
May my fate be that of Israel.
Our lives are not more precious than yours.
I grew up in Lebanon. For eighteen years, I lived through war. We didn't have a shelter.
My mother was convinced we were "safe" in the pantry, where I slept on a mattress behind the washing machine, head to toe with my sister.
Every time a missile struck nearby, she would wet herself in her sleep. We would wake in the middle of the night, washing her with cold water as explosions echoed outside.
So when I am accused of being indifferent to the suffering of children in Gaza, my blood boils—especially when lectured by those who have never experienced war.
War is ugly and sometimes inevitable.
Diplomacy does not soften the hearts of genocidal leaders. I hope the West finally understands.
I don't even know how many wars we survived. And yet, we are alive. Because our time was not up.
In Arabic, there is a saying: 'ala barakat Allah' — by God's grace.
Does this war with Iran scare me?
Not even a little.
But how do I explain that to my son? To someone I raised without faith? To people who don't know me?
How do you explain certainty without Emunah?
I believe in God. In good. In miracles.
I have seen the impossible happen—again and again—against all odds. Surviving wars is nothing compared to that.
One of those miracles hangs around my neck.
A Star of David.
If Israel is not one of the most astonishing miracles in human history, I don't know what is.
After two thousand years of exile—pushed east and west, north and south—after repeated attempts to erase them from history; enslaved, expelled, tortured, forcibly converted; after Kishinev, after Hebron, after the Holocaust…
For Israel to rise in spite of that history is nothing short of extraordinary.
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