Shaimaa, Al-Azhar University Gaza
— Shaimaa
My name's Shaimaa. I am Graduating with a degree in English Language and education at Al-Azhar University Gaza ,it was not just an academic achievement... it was a certificate of survival.Behind this graduation lies a story of displacement and rubble of books scattered under collapsed buildings, lectures listened to amid sirens, and exams written by candlelight inside a tent with no roof.
I studied while the sounds of explosions echoed around me. I answered exam questions as the sky rained fire.
I left my home more than once. I lost the safety of place, but I held tightly to the safety of my dream.
And every time I thought I couldn't go on, I opened my book again because in Gaza, education is not a luxury. It's an act of resilience. It's resistance.
I had no stable internet connection, no proper desk, not even a roof to shield me from death.
But I had something stronger a will to survive.
My goal was to earn a degree, not just to find a job, but to prove that we Gazans do not break not even when we’re hungry, displaced, or caught between life and death.
In fact,I was answering a far bigger one:
Would I survive after this paper?
Would I even be able to sit for the next exam?
Would there be a university left to return to?
We studied and sat for exams under relentless bombing, surrounded by grieving mothers, hungry children, and the constant news of loss. But we did not give up.
I graduated from beneath the rubble of a university from within the ruins of lecture halls. There were no celebration photos, no flowers, no music.
But I held my certificate with pride, Because it was a witness to my survival, To my defiance in the face of war, To the fact that Gaza gives birth to life even when the world tries to bury it.
This is my voice, from inside Gaza.
The voice of a student who once dreamed… and still does.
I and many other students in Gaza held our pens like weapons of defiance.
Because in those moments, even writing was an act of resistance against the death surrounding us.
