Deir el-Balah, Gaza Strip – On International Women's Day, women in Gaza continue their daily struggle to care for their children and families, and to stay alive. Four women who have been displaced by Israel's war in Gaza since October 7, along with their families, spoke to Al Jazeera about their lives now.
'I have forgotten what it means to be a woman': Nada Abdelsalam
Nada Abdelsalam, 34, sits with her children in front of her shop, baking bread over a wood fire.
Since the start of the war, Nada says she has lost track of the passing days, consumed by the incessant demands of caring for her eight children from dawn to dusk in difficult conditions.
“Women in Gaza have been the most affected by this war. Our burdens have multiplied and our sense of privacy has disappeared,” says Nada as she tends the fire and adds more bread.
“Here I am, sitting on the street, in a tent, deprived of the basic needs of life. No water, no electricity, no bathrooms, no sanitation. Nothing,” she adds.
Nada was forced to flee from the Maghazi refugee camp in Gaza City to Deir el-Balah in central Gaza due to Israeli evacuation orders at the start of the war. His house was bombed and destroyed.
“I left with only the clothes I was wearing and some clothes for my children,” says Nada. “I never imagined I would reach this point. My closet was once full of clothes.” He says he is embarrassed to leave his store in the worn and tattered clothes he has left.
“I wear a prayer robe for everything: to sleep in,” he adds.
The war has robbed Nada of more than his home and possessions, he says. She has also lost her sense of self.
“I have forgotten what it means to be a woman in this war. I feel decades older than my actual age. Even my appearance reflects it.”
Nada is one of countless women in Gaza who have been enduring similar exhaustion and increased responsibilities during the ongoing war.
“Before the war, we bought bread at the bakery, washed our clothes in a machine, and lived in clean, modern apartments,” Nada recalls. “We have now regressed to Stone Age methods, baking over open fires and washing clothes by hand.
“It's a suffering I wouldn't wish on any woman.”
'This war requires great strength from women': Sawsan al-Zein
In a nearby tent, Sawsan al-Zein, 50, sits with female relatives. The mother of eight lost an eye after being seriously injured in the first week of the war when her home on Salah al-Din Street, east of Gaza City, was bombed.
“That day we were sitting normally, following the news of the war, when suddenly I found myself lying in blood,” she says.
“At the hospital they told me that my eye was seriously injured and they removed it immediately. I now have one eye and still need to complete my treatment abroad. My hand was also injured and I can't move it.”
One of their daughters and son-in-law were killed in the bombing, after which the family fled to Deir el-Balah about five months ago.
“Losing my eye affected my psychology a lot,” Sawsan says. “I was once the pillar of my home, responsible for managing everything, big and small, like any mother, now I struggle with basic tasks. “I cannot cook over an open fire or carry objects due to my injuries.”
Despite his daughter's help, Sawsan regrets the impact his injuries have had on his normal life.
“Before my children loved my cooking, but now my condition limits me,” he says.
“Now I can't, especially in these circumstances, which require great strength on the part of mothers and women to manage their family affairs.”
Sawsan's only wish is for the war to end soon, so he can return to his home in northern Gaza, even if it is in ruins.
“Life in displacement is hard, let alone for an injured woman like me, who needs special care.” Sawsan says.
“We suffer in the simplest aspects of life. Our privacy as women is eroded. Our hearts are heavy for the loss of loved ones and fear for the children. “What happened to us is enough.”
Terrified about giving birth: Etemad Assaf
Etemad Assaf, 29, sits on a rock outside her shop, washing clothes by hand.
Etemad, a mother of two children and eight months pregnant with her third, struggles to take care of her family under these circumstances. She fled the Jabalia refugee camp to Deir el-Balah and longs for the time when she can return home.
“The war changed our lives,” he says, rubbing his clothes with his hand.
“Every night I feel like I'm going to give birth now because I'm so tired.”
“You see? Is this a suitable life for a pregnant woman? A tent, cold, open air and a lack of the basic necessities of life?”
Etemad says he cannot provide even the basics for his children.
“My little daughter, who is 11 months old, needs diapers and they are expensive. We can barely afford to buy food and sometimes there is nothing to eat,” says Etemad.
“My big concern now is my imminent birth and the terrible conditions surrounding me, particularly given what we are hearing about the total collapse of hospitals in Gaza.”
“The health system is falling apart. There is not even a proper place to rest after childbirth.”
Etemad says he never imagined how bad things could get. “Two days ago I looked in the mirror for the first time since then and was surprised at how my facial features and skin, which had darkened from sitting in the sun, had changed.”
“I used to take care of myself, moisturizing my skin and hands before going to bed and showering was my daily routine,” Etemad recalls. “These are distant dreams.”
'All my dreams have vanished': Marah al-Qayed
Marah al-Qayed, 19, says the war has stripped her of her sense of femininity and pushed her into a role she never imagined.
Marah, who carries a heavy container of water that he fills more than once a day for his family, says he feels like he has become a man.
“I have completely forgotten that I am a woman. I feel like I have become a child,” says Marah, who was displaced with her family to a camp in Deir el-Balah from her home in the Zeitoun neighborhood, east of Gaza City.
“I leave at dawn to line up in front of the bakery to bring bread to my family of nine.” It's a similar story for all the other women and girls you meet here. “The war forced us to abandon our nature. “Sometimes I go to the bread line without washing my face due to lack of water.”
Before the war, Marah says, she was like other girls, taking care of herself and not being required to do “hard tasks.”
“I brushed my teeth, got ready, listened to music, went to university and learned photography. Now all my dreams have vanished.
“I have become very violent and my voice is loud.”
Despite these changes, Marah still holds on to her dream of completing her studies and becoming a photographer.
“I advise girls to never abandon their dreams or their nature,” she says. “My life has been forcibly altered beyond recognition.”
“I long for the girl I was before the war.”
