More Than
Just Cards
Deck of Shame began with anger.
Anger at the death and destruction in Gaza. Anger at the genocide unfolding in front of the world. And anger at how often the language used to describe it seemed incapable of matching the gravity of what I was seeing.
Again and again, I heard words like *conflict*, *crisis*, and *atrocity*. To me, they felt like euphemisms—language that made something unbearable sound distant, complicated, or abstract.
I wanted to do something.
Inspired by Those Who Refused
to Stay Silent
I am close to people who were directly involved in the student protests that spread across university campuses in the United States and around the world.
Whatever the personal consequences, these students were willing to put their names, reputations, educations, and futures on the line to advocate for Palestinians and demand that their communities pay attention.
Watching them changed something for me.
Their willingness to speak publicly inspired me to think beyond simply making a donation. I wanted to create something that could serve as an act of witness—something tangible that named the people responsible for what is happening and capture their culpability for the historical record.
That idea eventually became Deck of Shame.
Why a Deck of Cards?
The inspiration for the format goes back to the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq.
During the war, analysts at the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency created a “Most Wanted” deck of playing cards identifying high value, kill or capture, targets of Saddam Hussein’s government. Each person was assigned a position within a standard 52-card deck, and approximately 1,900 decks were distributed to U.S. troops by May 2003.
Decades later, I returned to that concept with a very different purpose.
Deck of Shame identifies the 52 people who bear, by deed and word, the most responsibility for the genocide in Gaza.
To be absolutely clear: Deck of Shame is not a kill list, nor is it a call for violence against anyone depicted on its cards.
It is an act of political and artistic expression.
Its purpose is accountability through visibility: to name powerful people, scrutinize their actions, and reject the idea that decisions with enormous human consequences should become anonymous with the passage of time.
We call it the Deck of Shame because that is precisely its purpose: to remember, to name, and to refuse to look away.
Remembering Hind Rajab
Turn the cards over and you will find another important part of this story.
The back of every Deck of Shame card is inspired by a Dublin mural honoring Hind Rajab, the Palestinian child whose death became one of the most widely recognized individual tragedies of the war.
In January 2024, Hind became trapped in a car in Gaza after members of her family were killed. Recordings captured her pleading with emergency dispatchers for help. An ambulance was eventually sent to reach her. Hind, her relatives, and the two Palestinian Red Crescent paramedics dispatched to rescue her were later found murdered. The circumstances surrounding their deaths have been the subject of international scrutiny and investigation.
Dublin artist Emmalene Blake later created a mural of Hind outside Dalymount Park, transforming her image into a public memorial.
We chose to carry that remembrance onto every card.
Because behind every debate, headline, statistic, government statement, and political argument are human beings.
Hind was one of them.
From Witness to Material Support
Creating Deck of Shame was never intended to be the end of the project.
We want this brand to translate conviction into tangible support.
Deck of Shame currently allocates 20% of all profits to charitable and community giving.
Our giving program has two areas of focus.
First, we support humanitarian organizations providing direct assistance to Palestinian children and families in Gaza and the West Bank.
We are beginning with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund (PCRF), a nonprofit humanitarian organization that provides medical care and humanitarian relief to children. Its work includes medical treatment, humanitarian assistance, medical missions and investments in Palestinian healthcare infrastructure. PCRF is also currently providing relief and supporting recovery efforts in Gaza, including medical care, food, water and other necessities for affected families.
Second, we want to support students and community organizations working within their own communities to advocate for Palestinians, educate others, organize events, and keep attention focused on the human consequences of this crisis.
That is why we are establishing the Deck of Shame Grant Program.
Doing This Work?
We Want to Hear
From You.
If you represent a student group, community organization, educational initiative, advocacy project, or similar effort working in this space, we invite you to tell us about it.
We are beginning with a small grant program and intend to expand both the number of organizations we support and the resources we are able to provide as Deck of Shame grows.
We also believe transparency matters.
As our giving program develops, we intend to share the organizations and initiatives receiving support so that the people who purchase Deck of Shame can understand where that money is going and what it is helping make possible.
A Deck Meant to Be Played
There is one final part of the story that matters deeply to me.
I am proud of what we created. I hope Deck of Shame can exist as an artistic act of witness and a record of a particular moment in history.
But I also sincerely hope you actually play cards with it.
Bring it to a family gathering. Deal a hand at a dinner table. Play poker with friends. Take it on vacation. Let it become worn around the edges from being shuffled hundreds of times.
There is something meaningful to me about a deck born from grief and anger being used during moments of friendship, laughter, family, and joy.
And perhaps, every once in a while, someone will stop and ask about a face on one of the cards. Or turn the deck over and ask who Hind Rajab was. Or begin a conversation that otherwise would never have happened.
If Deck of Shame can help provide material support to people who need it, preserve the memory of people whose stories deserve to be known, and spark conversations about responsibility, moral clarity, and our shared humanity, then it will have accomplished what I hoped it could.
Remember. Question. Give. Play. And don’t look away.