Beyond Gaza: A tale of Endurance and Identity

Gaza often feels like a place where time folds back on itself-a confined,intense surroundings that either shapes you rapidly or leaves you untouched. It is indeed a land rich with history, deep family bonds, and silent struggles.

Childhood Caught Between Worlds

From a young age, I was immersed in adult conversations about family matters and daily hardships. Relatives such as my aunts, older cousins, and even mothers of friends sought my opinions as if I possessed wisdom beyond my years.

Though I occasionally escaped into simple joys-like designing miniature clothes for dolls with cousins-I mostly lived in the uneasy space between children who didn’t quite understand me and adults whose discussions I fully comprehended.

A teacher once dubbed me “the sharp tongue,” not out of disrespect but because I refused too mute or soften myself to meet others’ expectations.

The Freedom Found in Family Fridays by the Shore

Every Friday, our family journeyed from as-Sudaniya along al-Rashid Street toward Rafah-a trip lasting nearly an hour. On those days, Gaza felt less like confinement and more like home.

I was 12 then; laughter filled the car as we reminisced about my brother’s amusing mispronunciations or small mishaps that became inside jokes. We stayed close to our parents before wandering down to the beach where the aroma of spiced fish blended with the cool sea breeze-a soothing comfort amid uncertainty.

The Vision Beyond Borders

I always sensed that leaving Gaza was inevitable. At one family gathering when asked about local university plans, I surprised everyone by declaring my desire to study abroad-to follow in my father’s footsteps as a journalist rather than attend institutions within Gaza’s borders.

This aspiration received mixed reactions; some encouraged me while others dismissed it outright. Yet inside me burned an undeniable yearning for life beyond Gaza’s limits.

The Solo Journey Through Borders

At 17 years old in 2019, when I finaly departed Gaza to pursue international relations overseas, it marked both my frist solo flight and an official milestone-traveling independently under legal permission due to being underage.

The crossing at Rafah was tense-I stood between my father and brother Omar memorizing their faces before entering Egypt’s checkpoints filled with long waits and security checks testing patience alongside hope.

Cairo Airport led onward through istanbul then Cyprus-each stop symbolizing another step away from home yet closer toward new opportunities. Holding a Palestinian black passport meant frequent extra questioning by officials curious why a young woman traveled alone or what awaited her future-routine hurdles on this quest for freedom.

A captured moment on gaza’s shore years ago – memories engraved despite distance

Navigating new Realities Abroad

The first night in Cyprus brought sleep deeper than ever-but waking suddenly startled me as loud noises triggered panic reflexes shaped by past trauma until reason reminded me: these were just suitcase wheels rolling down quiet dorm hallways-not danger lurking nearby.

I quickly realized how unfamiliar everything felt-the silence especially unsettling after years surrounded by constant noise-and got lost searching for something simple like toast or an adapter amid endless campus corridors beneath sprawling buildings.

A Classroom Without Boundaries

An English preparatory course introduced classmates from Turkey, Lebanon, Morocco-and many other countries far removed from conflict zones yet united through shared educational dreams.
When revealing Palestine as home often sparked disbelief (“Is ther really life there?”), it underscored global ignorance about places overshadowed more by headlines than humanity.
I shared photos rather; tried explaining geography through stories rather than maps alone.
Once at a market encounter left me breathless when an elderly Israeli man thanked me after helping find milk-it reminded how identities intertwine complexly beyond politics.

Coping With Distance And heartache From Afar

Months turned into years studying abroad-in Cyprus initially followed later by stays in Egypt then Oman-the physical distance made Gaza feel increasingly dreamlike until october 7th 2023 shattered illusions entirely when war erupted again too close for separation to shield pain any longer.
Distant but deeply connected:I worked remotely alongside ⁤my father translating his journalism updates amid chaos while anxiously awaiting signs he remained safe amidst escalating violence.

“the guilt over losing loved ones hits immediately-even irrationally-as if staying awake could have kept them alive.”

• Cousin Ahmed-nicknamed Saddam after missile attacks-lost his life during bombardments;
• An entire branch including uncle Iyad with his daughter perished;
• An uncle Nael along with his wife Salwa disappeared overnight beneath destruction’s shadow;

A milestone celebrated on graduation day – resilience embodied despite adversity endured across continents

Therapy And Healing Amid Persistent Trauma

Treatment began gradually-from talk therapy evolving into trauma-focused care following diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). While progress calms emotional storms somewhat, healing remains ongoing-not erasing scars but learning coexistence within them especially for those shaped profoundly by Gazan realities..

I frequently enough say:
“Born Palestinian,
Shaped Cypriot.”
Gaza instilled awareness;
exile provided language;
Egypt & Oman layered questions:
“How do you carry pieces of home perpetually breaking?”

Pursuing Meaning Through Education And Diplomacy

This journey fuels current ambitions pursuing advanced studies focused on diplomacy-to unravel power structures influencing childhoods stolen prematurely & futures dictated externally.

Mentioning “Gaza” usually evokes images dominated by devastation-but behind every headline lie millions living ordinary lives complicated only as forces beyond control magnify their struggles exponentially.

A Shared Story Across Millions’ Voices

This narrative belongs not solely to me but countless others whose voices risk fading beneath geopolitical noise.

If this story reaches even one heart willing enough
To look past destruction
To recognize humanity
Then perhaps it affirms:
“Gaza is people.”
“And people deserve dignity & life.”