Portside

A few days ago, I came across a photo published online, taken by a Gazan citizen. The image captured blooming buds and flowers sprouting from the rubble of homes that had been destroyed by Israeli bombs and missiles in the Gaza Strip.

It was a picture laden with deep meaning — perhaps these flowers had taken root in the blood of the martyrs, the children and women who had fallen victim to this brutal war that left nothing untouched in Gaza, Jabalia, and the rest of the Strip’s cities.

These blooming buds compelled me to write about the hope that the women and girls of Gaza continue to embody — hope that has emerged and continues to rise from beneath the rubble and destruction.

These women, the daughters of my people, have borne and continue to bear immense suffering and the pain of loss. They have lost their children, partners, and siblings. Their homes have been destroyed, their loved ones have disappeared, and they have endured fear and starvation in tents under the harshest conditions. Yet, they have not ceased to fight for life.

We see them in news broadcasts and on social media platforms, returning to what was once their home, to their loved ones and neighbours, determined to rebuild, even as they remain uncertain of what awaits them.

They walk on foot, carrying their children, displacement bags, and whatever little they can salvage, leaving us to wonder: where do they find such resilience and determination? How do they summon the strength to persist and strive for the return of a “normal” life despite all this devastation?

The Israeli occupation forces were not content with mere killing and destruction. They made sure to showcase the so-called “morality” of their army as well. Videos circulated on social media showed soldiers boasting about executing orders of killing, demolishing homes, and wreaking havoc.

Others documented soldiers occupying abandoned houses, turning them into military barracks, flipping them upside down. But what was even more repulsive and sickening was their brazen display of violations — mocking the sanctity of Palestinian homes, turning their abuses into crude “comedic” performances by wearing women’s underwear and ridiculing them, shamelessly posting these acts on social media.

We cannot erase from our minds the images of the women who fell victim to this war. The most haunting images in my memory, more than 500 days into this war, are those of slain children and women, of hospital corridors — still standing despite being targeted — stained with the blood of the martyrs, echoing with the wails of the bereaved.

Meanwhile, surviving children wander among the corpses and wounded as if such scenes have become a routine part of their daily lives. These images will stay with them forever, scarring them in ways that no-one can undo.

How will mothers cope with the trauma they and their children have endured? How can one console a mother forced to bid farewell to her sick children as they leave for treatment in Egypt, knowing she is forbidden from accompanying them? Her tears, her pain, and the agony of all Gaza’s women have been completely ignored by Israeli media, which obediently follows government directives to strip every Palestinian of their humanity, justifying and celebrating their killing.

Since the ceasefire agreement was announced and displaced families began returning north to whatever remained of their homes, countless videos have surfaced, documenting the heartbreaking moments of their return. Some have found their homes still standing but riddled with shrapnel. Others have found remnants of walls, offering some semblance of shelter for their families. But many have returned to nothing but piles of rubble where their homes once stood.

I watch these videos with anticipation and deep emotion, as if searching for hope and strength in the resilience of a people who have endured unimaginable suffering. A woman comforts her husband as he stands in shock before the ruins of their home, telling him, “Alhamdulillah, at least the walls are still there.” Another woman shares a video of herself “cleaning” what remains of her home, writing, “Even in its destruction, even with nothing left, we are content, patient, and happy — whether in a shattered room or amidst the ruins.”

But no amount of strength, hope, or optimism can mask the scale of this tragedy or the horrors of a war unlike any the world has ever seen. An occupation so ruthless that it has even targeted the unborn, treating the foetuses in their mother’s wombs as threats to be eliminated!

This war was not just a military assault; it was an assault on life, dignity, and hope. When we recall how this war began — with bombings targeting universities, hospitals, infrastructure, and large residential buildings, killing over 17,000 children — we understand that the goal was never just destruction. It was an attack on the very spirit, resilience, and indomitable will of the Palestinian people. It was an attempt to extinguish a dream they have failed to erase.

Yet, despite all this devastation, just as flowers bloom from the ruins, Palestinians rise from the ashes. They carry their wounds, their memories, and rebuild their lives against all odds.

They desperately need our support — support from us here, from our people everywhere, and from the nations of the world that refuse to align with the imperialist ambitions of Trump, Netanyahu, and their capitalist allies, who dream of “cleansing Gaza,” buying it out, and turning it into a luxury resort for the wealthy. Or perhaps fulfilling the zionist colonial dream of Smotrich, Ben Gvir, and their ilk, seizing the last remaining Palestinian lands.

Gaza will continue to bloom. Its women and girls will remain symbols of resilience, determined to reclaim life from beneath the rubble.

Nisreen Morqus is general secretary of the Movement of Democratic Women in Israel.