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Before the start of the genocide in Gaza, I was a teacher and mother to two girls. Now, I am a mother to more than 2000 children – alongside other courageous women in my life. As Palestinian women, living through war has meant we have become teachers, mothers, and caretakers who support countless others.

We truly serve as the backbone of our community.

I suffered through many of the same struggles that others have in Gaza, including being displaced eight times. I was forced to move from my home and live in one tent after another, each time holding my daughters on my shoulders as we fled death.

I was forced to adapt to the ‘tent life’, including carrying water from long distances, or dealing with the difficulties of finding food for my daughters amidst famine. The high cost of living also made things considerably harder, but I kept on.

I would cook the food I could get on the fire, I had learned to make bread in a clay oven, and I would walk long distances in search of groceries in nearby displacement camps.

Stepping up

During the genocide, I went from teaching a group of students in a classroom to teaching every child around me. I would gather them every day at 3pm to take part in an educational, but also entertaining, lesson that sought to distract them from the atmosphere of fear and terror surrounding them. I had hoped it would give them back a piece of their childhood.

In reality, I had to step up because the children were in such desperate need of this.

I even learned sign language to communicate with a child who was my neighbour in the refugee camp in Rafah, and another in Nuseirat. This allowed me to properly cater to their needs.

I used to also organise birthday parties for the children, an open day every month, and emotional release sessions with various activities including music, dabke, group play, folk dancing, folk tales, and chanting, in order to relieve some of the pain and suffering.

But I wasn’t an exception. All around me, I saw the women in camps and tents taking more on their shoulders than any person should. They all had to act wiser than their years, and be more courageous. This is why each of them should be honoured, even those who were martyred.

The strength of women

Umm Amin, who I met during my displacement in Khan Younis, has been baking bread in a clay oven every day for the families of the camp. Her husband was martyred and even though she is alone with her children, she continued to bake for her community.

Rana – a student I taught whilst displaced – after having been absent from my class one day, I learned had helped her mother give birth in a tent. I will never forget the scene of going to check on her and finding her with her mother (who was smiling), giving sandwiches to her children.

Ms. Mona, who I’d met in the internet tent in Rafah, spent every day of the genocide providing for her children alone. She cried constantly as she waited for the day when she could evacuate with her children to finally see her husband.

Laila,Ìýwhose husband has been missing for more than a year, was another mother who did all she could to take care of her children. She had even injured her foot because of the long distances she walked selling corn.

My beloved neighbourÌýUmm Adi, who made a manual sewing machine which she used day and night in order to put at least one meal a day on the table for her sons and daughters. Her husband is paralysed due to a serious head injury he sustained while searching for bread, so she cares for him too.

Their strength would give me strength, even in the most tragic of moments.

Umm Yazan, who I’d come to knowÌýin my sixth displacement in Khan Younis, used to bring her children, Yazan and Eileen, to my tent every evening for their lesson. She would sit close by and watch beaming with happiness.

She used to make sweet treats and sell them in the camp. They were always made with love.

One day, after having shared a cup of coffee together, her tent was targeted. The attack happened at night. We did not find any trace of her or her children. The Israeli missile completely wiped out the tent and left a crater in its place.

She left us like a butterfly.

In the midst of this destruction, death and fear, there is still great hope because of all that Palestinian women are doing. They give despite having lost everything, serve and sacrifice for their families and all Palestinians.

Women don’t feel like they make up just half of a society when the love they fill their community with, the work they do, and support they provide, holds up an entire people.

I know all too well that despite the ceasefire, we are living through some of the hardest days of our lives. However, not just in light of International Women’s Day (though this provides a good occasion), Palestinian women should be honoured and reminded of the unbelievable strength they have shown.

The world can learn a lot from Palestinian women, in particular that even when it feels like the most powerful around the world are targeting you, you can fight by daring to hope and dream, and by building a future amidst ruins.

Asmaa Ramadan Mustafa is a mother and teacher in Gaza.

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