A story of women’s resilience amid ruins: Gaza, a scene of tears, blood, and hope

Maedeh Zaman Fashami, journalist and researcher

She holds the body of her child in her arms. A small child, wrapped in a white shroud, silent, lifeless. The same child whose hair she once brushed with care, whose schoolbag she packed with attention, for whom she made sandwiches, prayed, and sent off to school with a smile. Her dream was to one day see that child in a graduation gown, to hold their hand on their wedding day, to cradle their children in her arms. But now, instead of celebrating her child’s future, this mother stands at their funeral, detached from the world, her eyes fixed on the heavens. She repeats, “Allah is sufficient for me, and He is an excellent trustee;” not with anger, but with a deep sense of submission to the will of God. It is a phrase now heard on every tongue in Gaza, among a people who, though devastated, stand proud and unbroken.

In these more than eighteen months of ongoing genocide in Gaza, the faces of grieving mothers have become perhaps the most heart-wrenching image of this human catastrophe. These are women who have not only lost their loved ones, but also their homes, neighborhoods, memories, futures, and their sense of safety. In their arms lie the bodies of their children, on their lips are prayers, in their eyes a silent mourning, and in their hearts a burning fire. Every mother in Gaza holds an untold story of suffering; a suffering that begins with the rubble of a house and ends at a mass grave of children.

According to the official report by Gaza’s Ministry of Health, since the start of the all-out genocide by the Zionist regime following the Al-Aqsa Flood operation in October 2023, more than 52,000 Palestinians have been martyred. Among them are over 20,000 children. Each of these children took a piece of their mother’s heart with them beneath the soil. Hours of sweet memories, dreams, and hopes for the future have transformed into a deep sorrow. But through their patience, these mothers have turned that sorrow into the greatest force behind the Resistance in Gaza. The victorious Al-Aqsa Flood operation, by the admission of Western and Zionist analysts, was a massive military and intelligence failure for the Zionist regime. And that is why the regime turned its rage upon women and children: The Zionist regime is massacring women and children because it has failed to be able to confront the Resistance fighters. It feels powerless there, becomes agitated, attacks innocent, defenseless women and children. But the story of Gaza’s women is not just one of grief and loss. These women are the very pillars of this humane Resistance. Not merely mourning mothers, but women on the frontlines of life itself. In overcrowded hospitals filled with the wounded, in bombed-out schools, in temporary shelters, in bread lines, in the heart of the ruins, they are still breathing life, planting hope, and keeping the flame of survival alive.

In the days of displacement, it was these women who, with makeshift stoves in refugee tents, brought warmth to their families. They baked bread in the midst of destruction, soothed their children, cared for the elderly, and rescued the living from the pit of despair. Homes that had been leveled to the ground once again smelled of life thanks to the hands of these women. The wounds of body and soul across the community have found healing in their arms.

The women of Gaza are victims of injustice, but they are not broken, not forgotten, and not powerless. In the heart of darkness, they are the lanterns of light. Though their eyes hold tears, these are not tears of surrender. These tears are rooted in love for life, in faith in God, and in a will to build the future. Their faces reflect centuries of resistance against occupation, colonization, and humiliation. Alongside the loss of sons, husbands, and families, they have become a symbol of resistance. A symbol the terror machine ruling the Zionist regime failed to understand through its year-long war crimes in Gaza. They did not learn that the massacre of women, children, and civilians cannot hurt the strong structure of the Resistance or bring it to its knees.

The phrase “Allah is sufficient for me, and He is an excellent trustee” is no longer just a personal prayer; it has become a global symbol of resistance against oppressive powers. A cry that now echoes in the hearts of free people across the world, in the protests of London and New York, in the chants of students in San Francisco and Paris, and in the tears of Yemeni, Syrian, and Lebanese mothers. This voice, wounded yet dignified, has shattered the false might of America and the Zionist regime before the eyes of the world.

Today, the world sees in Gaza’s women a true image of resilience. Not in military noise, but in the quiet strength of women who lay flowers on the graves of their loved ones by day, and by night, tell stories to the surviving children amidst the ruins. Gaza’s story is a woman’s story – full of pain, yet brimming with power.

And it is this very story that has captured the hearts of countless women and girls across the East and West. With every moment of their patience, they cry out: “O people of the world, I am that Muslim woman you long deemed weak and powerless. I am the one you imagined needed saving. Yet today, it is I, with trust in God, with faith, and with patience, who have come to save you. I have come to lift you from the mire of hopelessness and open your eyes to a higher horizon: faith in God, and true freedom.”

(The views expressed in this article are author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Khamenei.ir.)