I have been photographing in Gaza for several years,
initially to cover the conflict with Israel, but over time returning because I
am mesmerized by the women, and their strength.
Gaza
is a troubled land, and growing up there isn’t easy. It is a 45-square-mile
district, isolated by towering concrete blast walls, reams of barbed wire and
patrolling soldiers. At night the drones lull you to sleep. If you stand on the
beach and look north you can see lights coming from land that you will never be
able to touch. Demarcation and surveillance define your existence. Families are
tight, and watchful. In a place as small as Gaza it is impossible to be truly
free, many women say.
All
eyes and everyone you know is monitoring you — your brothers, cousins and
neighbors. “I wish I could leave, even for one day, so I can go to a place
where no one knows me,” whispered Doaa Abu Abdo, a 27-year-old production
assistant. Hadeel Fawzy Abushar, 25, is a singer who performs in concerts
promoting peace. Her dream is to sing in Ramallah, a city in the West Bank.
Sabah Abu Ghanem, 14, and her sister wake up early to surf the waves on the
Gaza beach before attending school. The sisters place first in many competitions
inside the strip, but have never left Gaza to compete. In order to leave and
enter another country you must be searched, inspected by an airport-style
scanner, and lucky, as exit permits and visas to neighboring countries are hard
to come by.
Despite
hardships, Gaza has one of the finest school systems in the Middle East, with
nearly universal literacy. Many young women attend one of the several
universities, eventually graduating to become writers, engineers and doctors.
Many dream of leaving the strip, to explore the world and find themselves on
their own, though they also speak of returning to Gaza. “It’s my home,” they
say. “I love Gaza.”
Source: The newyork times.
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