Palestinian journalist Plestia Alaqad emerged as a powerful voice during the recent Gaza conflict, using social media to broadcast the harrowing realities of war. Her Instagram account blossomed with followers as she shared the intense struggles faced by citizens trapped amid violence, bringing their personal stories to the world. Just last month, the young journalist relocated to Lebanon, hoping to start anew at the prestigious American University of Beirut. Yet, as fate would have it, the echoes of war followed her there, turning her fresh start once again upside down.
For Alaqad, Lebanon felt almost like home. For the brief weeks she attended classes on the verdant campus, she savored the feeling of normalcy. "It’s devastating to feel like Israel’s wars are just following you," she expressed during a phone interview with The Independent. The reality was stark: as she navigated lectures and student life, Israel escalated its conflict, launching assaults against Hezbollah, leading to widespread bombings across southern Lebanon and parts of Beirut.
Room after room filled with displaced families, horror-stricken by the chaos around them, flooded her memories of Gaza. "When I saw displaced people in the streets and schools, it reminded me of what the Palestinian people lived through. It’s heartbreaking because I know what it feels like," Alaqad lamented.
Rattled by relentless bombings, Alaqad's university abruptly switched to online classes. The decision marked yet another transition for her—one she never anticipated. Suddenly, she was left reflecting on her precarious future. Would the conflict expand? Would she find herself trapped should the airport succumb to bombardment? The urgency to leave grew stronger, compelling her to make yet another significant move; she currently resides in Egypt. "After everything, I don’t really believe in planning anymore," she candidly stated.
Alaqad’s early days as a journalist were laden with ambition. She documented daily life and leisure activities during what felt like peaceful times at home, capturing sunny days at the beach and gatherings with friends. But when war erupted, her lens turned dramatically. She recorded the devastation wrought by relentless bombardments on Gaza. One particularly gripping video depicted her narratively braving the chaos, conveying the burning smoke infiltrated her window, the very air thick with fear.
Even as international news outlets were barred from entering Gaza, her real-time updates provided the global audience with unparalleled access to the grim realities facing citizens under siege. Alaqad’s ability to convey the palpable fear, her emotions, and the resulting destruction drew over four million dedicated followers to her platform.
Despite the tremendous reach of her work, the continuing violence weighs heavily on her. Alaqad has expressed feelings of hopelessness, questioning the impact of her journalism. "People keep telling me how much my work changed the way people view Palestinians. And for me, if I did all of this, why has the genocide not ended?" Her poignant words sum up the sentiments felt by many: she grapples with the apparent disillusionment of her contributions amid the darkness.
"It’s sad to see almost 2 million people being bombed for more than a year now. It’s hard to be far from all of this happening. Life will never be normal. I'll never see life like I used to before. It’s heartbreaking," Alaqad reflected, encapsulating the deep emotional toll the war has had on her.
The horror of war did not escape former Palestinian Minister of Culture, Atef Abu Saif, who recently published his memoir titled Don’t Look Left: A Diary of Genocide, chronicling his firsthand experiences as bombings devastated Gaza. Saif’s writings offer readers not just the disturbing familiarity of air raids and violence but also insight and stories laced with empathy and resilience.
He highlights the fundamental truth: lasting peace hinges upon recognizing the humanity and dignity of the Palestinian people. "A future peace plan can only succeed if Palestinians are granted autonomy and dignity," Saif asserts, providing necessary dietary food for thought.
Abaa Saif shares heart-wrenching tales, painting vivid pictures of daily life swallowed by chaos, illuminating the struggle to maintain family ties within wreckage. The memoir brings forward tales of survival and adaptation, marking the kind of resilience human beings display even amid dire circumstances.
While the war rages on, the ordeal creates waves much larger than the immediate aftermath. The lives of those like Plestia Alaqad and Atef Abu Saif resonate deeply, driving home the point: their stories are not just reflections of pain and suffering; they are testimonies of hope against all odds. Their narratives weave together experiences shared by countless others, leaving the world with sobering reminders—a plea for peace amid the relentless strife. Indeed, it was never just about politics; it's about human stakes gathered cumulatively over time, extending hearts across generations.
With their tales echoing around the globe and more people becoming aware of their plight, one can only hope this newfound consciousness can catalyze change. The life of the people of Gaza, their stories, and their resilience merit more than mere headlines—they deserve real and sustained attention.
So as Plestia Alaqad now grapples with yet another chapter of her story, her voice remains unyielding. The world may see her struggle as isolated, but she is far from alone; millions share her pain, and together, they continue to raise their voices, demanding dignity, autonomy, and the most fundamental right of all: the right to live without fear of war destroying their homes.
The legacies of those experiences under fire, like Saif’s memoir, will resonate beyond borders and generations. These accounts remind us all of our shared humanity, implicate us all, and challenge us to respond.
