When you ask Nour Alsaqqa about her dreams, she doesn’t hesitate. “I wanted to study in America. I wanted to win an Oscar. All my dreams were overseas.” Nour’s words echo the longing of countless young people in Gaza, a place where hope is often buried beneath rubble and drone shadows.

But Nour’s story isn’t just about longing. It’s about resilience.

She remembers the days she hated Gaza. The days she wanted out. “I was mad at how besieged Gaza was—it limits you in so many ways,” she says. “Some of the men here are so narrow-minded. I wanted to throw them all out of Gaza, let them see the world, and bring them back with new views.”

Yet, as time passed, Nour began to see the brilliance in her people. “It would take decades of research to learn what our trauma forces upon us at a very young age. You don’t have the privilege of disassociating from reality. You cannot ignore this. The drones, the rubble, the blood, the children fighting for food and water. It’s all around you.”

In Gaza, reality is unescapable. Nour compares it to life in the West, where people can afford to say they don’t care about politics. “But if even one of the things that happen on a daily basis in Gaza happened in the West, it would move nations.”

She remembers learning about ethics, human rights, and international law in her political science classes. “But life in Gaza will teach you that these things are just propaganda. Propaganda that fooled us into believing that if only people knew what was going on, they’d stop it.”

This naive hope once drove Nour and her friends to film, document, and share their lives on social media. “But I’ve lost the will,” she admits. “It’s too exhausting. Everyone has disassociated from our reality. We have nothing to eat, but we have these phones. We get to watch our international friends going about their days normally. Who are we even talking to?”

Despite the exhaustion, Nour refuses to give up. She knows you cannot rely on the conscience of those in power. “You have to put pressure on them. You have to disrupt their systems. You have to move and mobilize and obstruct and protest and cost them things. It’s the only thing they listen to.”

As the communications officer for Doctors Without Borders (MSF) in Gaza, Nour became the lifeline for sharing Gaza’s stories with the world. When the main MSF office warned that the Palestinian staff was exhausted and traumatized, they suggested just one interview—just to see what Nour would decide.

But Nour didn’t stop at one. She dug in, turning that single interview into a full series. She sourced every story, even in the most difficult conditions. She took beautiful portraits of every interview subject, ensuring their humanity shone through. Nour became the co-creator of the series, the heartbeat behind every word and image.

“Life in Gaza does teach you,” Nour says. “For the longest time I wanted to leave, but now I don’t feel like I could bear living anywhere else in this world. Gaza feels like the only real place left on earth.”

Nour’s journey is not just her own—it is the story of Gaza. It is the story of refusing to be silenced, of finding hope in the darkest places, of choosing to stay and fight for dignity, truth, and love.

Her courage inspires us all to listen, to care, and to share. Because in telling her story, Nour reminds us that even in the most besieged corners of the world, the human spirit cannot be broken.