Can we be refugees in our own land?
Can we be refugees in our own land? This question has echoed in my mind for over twenty-five years. The answer isn’t simple yes or no; it’s something deeper, something lived rather than defined. Ever since I was a child, UNRWA (United Nation Relief and Work Agency) centers filled our neighborhoods in Gaza: education, health, even food assistance. But before you could access any of these services, you had to answer one question: Are you citizen or a refugee? I didn’t understand the question, or the difference. I heard my parents say “refugee”, so I repeated it, not knowing what it meant. At school, they asked me, “Where is your village?” I answered “Al-Sawafir Al-Shamaliyya” (Northern Sawafir), because that’s what I was taught. But I lived in Gaza, I felt I belonged there, so how could I be a refugee? At twenty-six, I understood: we were displaced. From city to city, from house to tent, from privacy to shared survival. We were displaced within our own homeland, living every detail...
