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Turkish doctoral student Rumeysa Ozturk has decided to return to her native Turkey after a nearly yearlong legal battle with the Trump administration. Ozturk was targeted for deportation due to her pro-Palestinian advocacy, which the US government claimed was in support of Hamas.Ozturk, who received her PhD in child study and human development in February, made the announcement through the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) on Friday. She cited the 'state-imposed violence and hostility' she faced in the United States as the reason for her decision.The controversy began when Ozturk co-signed an opinion column in her student newspaper, The Tufts Daily, calling on her university's president to acknowledge the Israeli genocide of Palestinians and divest from companies with ties to Israel. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) accused her of having 'engaged in activities in support of Hamas', although there is no evidence to back that assertion.Ozturk's case was one of the most high-profile instances of the Trump administration seeking to punish foreign students for their pro-Palestinian advocacy. Her arrest on March 25, 2025, was captured on surveillance video, showing six plain-clothed immigration officers surrounding her on the street outside her Massachusetts apartment.After her arrest, Ozturk was transported to New Hampshire, then to Vermont, and eventually to Louisiana, where she was held in ICE detention for 45 days. She described squalid conditions at the detention centre, including overcrowding, insufficient food, and a lack of medical care.Ozturk's legal team had submitted a habeas corpus petition, and on May 9, she was ultimately released. However, her legal proceedings continued, and this week, the ACLU announced that Ozturk's legal team had reached a settlement with the Trump administration to dismiss the deportation push.In a statement announcing her departure, Ozturk explained that countries should understand it is a 'privilege' to host international scholars. She also expressed support for other scholars fearing for their livelihoods and work, stating that she stands 'firmly in solidarity with academic communities in the US and elsewhere who live in fear for nothing more than their scholarship'.Ozturk will put her 13 years of study to use in her native Turkey, saying she is choosing to return home as planned to continue her career as a woman scholar without losing more time to the 'state-imposed violence and hostility' she experienced in the United States.

Juba, South Sudan – Growing up, Khloe Nyanda was taught to stay small and avoid taking up space. Defying that lesson, the 21‑year‑old law student at the University of Juba pursued modeling after being inspired by South Sudanese supermodel Adut Akech, whose refugee‑to‑runway story she describes as a "crown".Nyanda’s ambition mirrors that of a new generation of South Sudanese talent, with 95% of models from the country naming Akech as their spark. She began modeling in 2023, but her family remained skeptical, fearing the clash between academic responsibilities and a fashion career.Her personal journey has been marked by familial estrangement after she rejected an arranged marriage and a modelling coach’s advances, leading to loss of support from her stepbrother and other relatives.Beyond social pressures, Nyanda faces systemic obstacles. Since 2023 she has endured multiple visa rejections despite contracts with agencies in London, Paris, and Italy. An attempt to attend Milan Fashion Week was denied by the Italian embassy in Nairobi over bank‑statement issues, while two separate applications to the French embassy in Kampala were also turned down. The absence of South Sudanese embassies in France and Italy forces hopeful models to obtain travel documents from neighboring countries, inflating costs and delays.Another emerging model, 20‑year‑old Alek Mayen Garang, balances her senior‑year studies with runway aspirations. Born in Greater Jonglei and raised in Renk, she spent part of her childhood in Kampala before returning to South Sudan amid the 2016 conflict. Garang draws inspiration from Anok Yai, the American‑South Sudanese model named Model of the Year at the 2025 British Fashion Awards.Unlike Nyanda, Garang found an ally in her elder sister, who accompanied her to her first runway show and helped negotiate parental approval. Her early challenges were technical—learning to walk in heels, maintaining strict diet and skincare regimens—and the lingering fear of rejection at auditions.Both women are part of a broader South Sudanese surge in global fashion. Nine of the world’s top 50 models on models.com hail from South Sudan, underscoring the country’s deep talent pool. Former models have transitioned to design and entrepreneurship, founding South Sudan Fashion Week and creating bespoke wedding gowns.Industry veterans now coach new talent, urging them to prioritize education alongside modeling. Yet a new anxiety looms: the potential rise of AI‑generated Black models, which could further destabilize already precarious careers.Within South Sudan, the Ministry of Culture, Museums and National Heritage has been criticized for its limited engagement with the modeling sector. Advocates argue that official endorsement could shift parental attitudes and legitimize modeling as a respectable profession.Garang recently won the “creativity” award at the national Miss Junub beauty pageant, expanding her vision from personal success to mentoring emerging designers and models. Nyanda, meanwhile, envisions a future beyond the runway: she plans to invest her earnings in establishing a credible mother agency, as well as a school and hospital for orphans, aiming to reinvest in her homeland.“South Sudan is not a place I am running from; it is the place I am running for,” Nyanda declares, embodying a resolve to reshape societal expectations and create pathways for the next generation of South Sudanese talent.

Every year on April 17, Palestinians commemorate Prisoner’s Day to bring attention to the thousands of men, women, and children held in Israeli prisons. This year’s observance is particularly significant due to Israel’s recently enacted death penalty law, which exclusively targets Palestinians convicted of deadly attacks.Rights groups have strongly criticized the law, labeling it a violation of international law and inherently discriminatory. The United Nations human rights chief has even suggested it could constitute a possible “war crime”.According to the prisoners’ rights group Addameer, nearly 10,000 Palestinians are currently being held in Israeli prisons, both within Israel and in occupied territories. These individuals are viewed by Palestinians as political prisoners who must be freed.The historical context of Prisoner’s Day dates back to April 17, 1971, when Mahmoud Bakr Hejazi was released in the first prisoner exchange between Israel and Palestine. In 1974, the Palestinian National Council officially designated April 17 as Prisoner’s Day, which has since served as a day of national and international solidarity with the Palestinian struggle against Israel’s continued occupation.Administrative Detention and Its ImplicationsAs of early April, 9,600 Palestinians were in Israeli custody. Of these detainees:3,532 are administrative detainees – held without charge or trial.342 are children.84 are women.119 are serving life sentences.Administrative detention is a longstanding Israeli policy allowing authorities to hold Palestinians without charge or trial for six-month periods that can be renewed indefinitely. Critics argue that this system is widely abused and denies due process, with over one-third of detainees being held under administrative detention.The Plight of Palestinian ChildrenIsrael is the only country that tries children in military courts, often denying them basic rights. 342 children were being held in Israeli prisons this month, with over 12,000 Palestinian children detained by Israeli forces since the outbreak of the second Intifada in 2000. These children are often subjected to physical and psychological torture, interrogated without parental or legal presence, and exploited for information or used as leverage against their families.The New Death Penalty LawThe new law allows military courts to impose the death penalty on Palestinians convicted of killing Israelis in acts of “terror.” This law, approved on March 30 and set to take effect by the end of April, applies to Palestinians from the West Bank tried in Israeli military courts. The Palestinian Authority has condemned the bill as a “war crime against the Palestinian people”, citing violations of the Fourth Geneva Convention.The rights group B’Tselem noted that the conviction rate for Palestinians tried in military courts is about 96 percent, often based on ‘confessions’ obtained through pressure and torture.A Legacy of DetentionSince 1967, Israeli forces have detained an estimated one million Palestinians, or about 20 percent of the Palestinian population. This systemic practice has fragmented communities, perpetuated cycles of trauma, and generated widespread resentment. For many families, arrests have become an inevitability, with freedom remaining uncertain for those currently behind bars, just as it has for generations before them.

In the midst of escalating tensions, a heart-wrenching story emerges from Gaza. Inaam al-Dahdouh, a 62-year-old mother, sits in her makeshift tent with her six grandchildren, clinging to a photograph of her three sons, who have been detained by Israeli forces for two years. As Palestinian Prisoners' Day is marked on April 17, Inaam's anguish deepens. Her sons, Mahmoud, Alaa, and Diaa, were arrested during an Israeli attack on al-Shifa Hospital in December 2023. They were bound, blindfolded, and taken away, leaving behind a family torn apart. The situation worsens with the recent approval of an Israeli law allowing the execution of Palestinian prisoners convicted of killing Israelis. This move has sparked international condemnation and fears among families like Inaam's. Over 9,600 Palestinians are currently imprisoned, a nearly 83% increase since the war began, with 350 children and over 3,530 administrative detainees held without charge. Inaam's sons are civilians; Mahmoud is a father of six, Alaa had completed his law degree, and Diaa was about to start life after high school. Despite reassurances that the new law targets specific categories of prisoners, Inaam cannot shake off the fear that her sons might be affected. “They can endure hunger … we tell ourselves they can endure it. But execution? Not to that extent,” Inaam says, fighting back her emotions. She urges a global stance to pressure Israel to reverse its decisions against prisoners, emphasizing that a prisoner has the right to live and dignity. Inaam tries to fill the void by caring for her grandchildren and teaching them the Quran, a gift for her imprisoned sons. Her story highlights the human cost of the ongoing conflict and the desperate need for a resolution to protect the rights and lives of Palestinian prisoners.

In the devastated Gaza Strip, a father's quest for truth has become a desperate fight against time and uncertainty. Mohammed Lubbad's world was shattered on October 13, 2023, when an Israeli strike destroyed his home, killing several family members, including his wife and daughter.As Mohammed struggled to come to terms with his loss, he received news that his pregnant wife, Amal, had given birth to a son via Caesarean section at Kamal Adwan Hospital. However, the child's fate remained a mystery as Amal had died from head trauma and abdominal wounds shortly after.Mohammed's search for his son was complicated by the chaos and destruction caused by the ongoing war. He was told that his son might be among a group of premature infants at al-Shifa Hospital, but a lack of accurate medical documentation made it difficult to confirm.As the uncertainty grew, a bitter dispute emerged with another family who claimed the child was theirs. Despite similarities in the child's description, the two families were unable to resolve the matter.In a bid to find closure, Mohammed waited over two years for the evacuated children to return to Gaza. When they finally arrived on March 31, he went to Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis to try and see the child he believed was his. However, a minor dispute broke out with the other family, and medical investigators intervened.The police investigations department confirmed the dispute and emphasized that the initial registration of the baby under the other family's name could not be considered conclusive. Mohammed strongly believes the child is his and insists on a DNA test to settle the matter.However, DNA testing is currently unavailable in Gaza due to the destruction of specialized laboratories during the war. The police investigations department has called for the provision of DNA testing equipment or the facilitation of urgent sample transfers to accredited laboratories in Egypt or Jordan.Mohammed's ordeal has taken a significant psychological toll, affecting his life and work. He refuses to give up and plans to escalate his efforts by organizing a protest outside al-Shifa Hospital. For Mohammed, the truth is the only way to move on from the trauma and uncertainty that has haunted him since the war began.

Turkey is in mourning after a deadly school shooting in the southern province of Kahramanmaras left nine people dead, including eight students and a teacher. The attacker, identified as 14-year-old Isa Aras Mersinli, opened fire on two classrooms at the Ayser Calik School on Wednesday before being found dead.Funerals were held on Thursday for the victims, including maths teacher Ayla Kara, 55. A 10th victim died while being treated in hospital on Thursday, and six of those wounded in the attack were in critical condition.The interior minister, Mustafa Ciftci, said the attacker is believed to have used guns that belonged to his father, a former police officer. The attack was the country's second school shooting in two days, following an attack on Tuesday at a high school in Sanliurfa province that wounded 16 people.At a funeral for four of the victims held near Kahramanmaras city's main mosque on Thursday, one father sat motionless beside the coffin of his daughter, 10-year-old Zeynep. "Our grief is endless. These children were like our own. They were all innocent," said Vezir Yucel, father of a student named Yusuf, who lost his close friend, 10-year-old Bayram, in the shooting.The interior and education ministries held a joint school security meeting in the capital, Ankara, on Thursday, which was attended by both ministers and all 81 of Turkey's provincial governors, as well as police chiefs and provincial education directors. Dozens of students were arrested on Thursday over alleged social media posts implying they might stage similar attacks.Justice Minister Akin Gurlek announced that 67 social media users were detained over posts targeting 54 different schools. The incident has raised concerns about school safety and the rise of gun violence in Turkey.

Ten years after Prince’s death, friends and collaborators such as George Clinton, Apollonia Kotero and drummer Charles “Chazz” Smith share personal memories that illuminate his musical brilliance and private life.George Clinton, the legendary leader of Parliament‑Funkadelic, remembers meeting the 19‑year‑old Prince in 1977 and immediately recognizing a talent “a new version of Sly Stone.” Clinton praised Prince’s ability to master guitar, keyboards, bass and drums, noting his “arranging genius” inherited from his pianist father and his dance flair “like James Brown.” Clinton also recalled how Prince later signed him to Paisley Park Records and inducted him into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, cementing a friendship that survived countless late‑night studio sessions.Apollonia Kotero, actress and singer who starred alongside Prince in the 1984 film Purple Rain, describes a bond that spanned 33 years. She recounts the grueling shoot—jumping into a freezing lake, suffering hypothermia, and Prince’s frantic plea, “Please don’t die, Apple. I love you.” Their relationship, she says, was “family, not romance,” and Prince’s protective nature shone when he cared for her during illness. Kotero also recalls a surreal moment when Prince hummed the opening melody of “When Doves Cry” into her answerphone, urging her “Don’t erase this!” as a reminder of his creative process.Beyond the studio, Kotero notes Prince’s voracious appetite for literature and politics, his 3 a.m. visits that turned into midnight drives across Hollywood, and his habit of showing her walls plastered with fan mail—a testament to his deep connection with his audience.Charles “Chazz” Smith, Prince’s cousin and original drummer in the early band Grand Central, paints a picture of Prince’s childhood obsession with music. After a spontaneous Sly and the Family Stone concert in Minneapolis, Prince declared, “We’re gonna form a band, and you’re gonna be the drummer.” Within weeks, a newly gifted guitar allowed him to replicate Santana’s “Black Magic Woman” note for note, signalling the start of an insatiable drive to master every genre—from rock to funk to ballads.In the final months of his life, Prince’s friends observed a shift. He reclaimed the rights to his catalog in 2014, began repaying debts, and expressed grief over the death of Vanity, his longtime muse. Smith recalls a poignant encounter six weeks before Prince’s passing: after a brief hug, they exchanged the words “I love you,” marking the last conversation they ever shared.These testimonies collectively reveal a portrait of Prince that goes beyond his public persona: a relentless virtuoso, a compassionate confidant, and an artist whose influence continues to reverberate a decade after his untimely death.

Asif Kapadia has been appointed to direct the final chapter of the ITV documentary series “70 Up,” slated for broadcast later this year. The series, which launched in 1964, was voted the most influential UK television programme of the last 50 years in a 2024 Broadcasting Press Guild poll. Kapadia, celebrated for his award‑winning documentaries on Amy Winehouse, Ayrton Senna and Diego Maradona, described the role as an "incredible honour and privilege" and called the original “Up” series the ultimate portrait of human life. ITV’s factual controller Jo Clinton‑Davis praised the appointment, noting that Kapadia will bring “passion, creativity and incredible flair” while safeguarding the series’ legacy, which she said has become “part of our cultural fabric.” The series was conceived by Granada’s Tim Hewat, who adapted the Jesuit maxim “Give me the child until he is seven and I will show you the man” into a longitudinal study of British social class. Michael Apted, who served as the series’ long‑time director, passed away in 2021; his earlier prediction that the project would continue “as long as I’m above ground” has now been fulfilled. Over the decades, viewers have followed fourteen participants from childhood to senior age. Notable stories include Liverpool’s Neil Hughes, who dreamed of becoming an astronaut at 14, later endured homelessness, and ultimately emerged as a lay preacher and Liberal Democrat councillor. Only one participant, Charles Furneaux, chose to exit the experiment early, while others, such as scientist Nick Hitchon, have passed away. With Kapadia at the helm, “70 Up” will serve as a tribute to both Apted’s pioneering vision and the courage of the cast, who have shared their lives across seven‑year intervals for more than six decades.

Video released by regional media captures scenes of spontaneous jubilation across Lebanon as a ceasefire with Israel comes into force. Residents gathered in public squares, streets and coastal promenades, waving flags and expressing palpable relief after a period of heightened military alert.While detailed reports on the negotiations remain limited, the immediate public reaction underscores the deep desire for stability in a region long marked by intermittent hostilities. The footage, filmed in several Lebanese cities, shows crowds chanting, children playing, and local businesses reopening, signaling an early return to normalcy.Analysts note that the ceasefire, though fragile, offers a critical window for diplomatic engagement and humanitarian aid delivery to affected areas. The visible optimism among Lebanese citizens highlights the broader regional hope that de‑escalation can translate into lasting peace.