Fatima

I was born in 1993 in Shuja'iyya, a historic neighbourhood east of Gaza City. My childhood house was bombed during the 2014 war and I got buried under the rubble for eight days. I later studied social work and volunteered with the Red Crescent and various youth organizations in Gaza. I became a peace activist in 2015 and joined Women Wage Peace, where I was able to connect with Israeli activists, including the late Vivian Silver. 

In January 2019, I was invited to participate in a peacebuilding program with them. We were supposed to meet only for a week, but on the sixth day, my family called. Years earlier, in 2007, my brother had been killed by Hamas. Now Hamas had come asking questions about my meetings with Israelis. My parents told me not to come back. "We can't lose you too", they said. 

So I moved to Ramallah and never returned to Gaza. This was the beginning of an administrative limbo: for Gazans, transferring residency to the West Bank is possible, but it winds through layers of bureaucracy between the Palestinian Authority, Israeli military administration, and Israel's Ministry of Interior. I started this process immediately when I arrived in 2019, and I am still waiting today.

In the meantime, I enrolled at Al-Quds University. In 2021, I fell in love with and married a man from Bethlehem, where we moved together and built a family.

When a new checkpoint was installed between Bethlehem and my campus, I had to interrupt my education because I could not take the risk of being stopped without proper documents. Me and my children could have been forcibly returned to Gaza, where our very lives are at risk. Yet, I still believed in peace and dialogue, and I joined Combatants for Peace where I work to empower Palestinian youth. 

When October 7, 2023 came, I was immediately afraid for my family back in Gaza. I was the only one leaving the Strip and left 62 relatives behind — my parents, brothers, sisters, and their spouses and children. I lost my mother when an Israeli sniper drone shot her as she was fleeing from a school where she had taken shelter. My niece and nephew were also killed by an Israeli tank. Other family members were injured in a bombing of the Baptist Hospital and some of them had to have their limbs amputated without anesthesia or proper medication. My brother Sa’eed was injured in the back by shrapnel, rendering him unable to move. I tried to help as much as I can, sending them money to help them survive, but the destruction that befell my family, as well as every soul in the Strip, has been beyond repair. Gaza, the place I was born, has been transformed into rubble and grief.

Today, I continue to work with young Palestinians to show them that another way is possible. Despite everything, I want to contribute in building a better future for them, for my family in Gaza, and for my children.