Gaza: Why do we Celebrate Birthdays?

Twenty-four years of life, more than 700 days of survival.

I wonder who I would be if I had been born somewhere else. What would security mean to me? How would I have celebrated my birthday?

Today is not a birthday like any other. I don’t feel the usual joy.

This day reminds me of everything I’ve been through this year and everything I’ve survived. I think back to my last birthday party in November 2022. At the time, I believed that life was going on as usual. I was laughing with my family, my friends were around me, and safety seemed normal, almost a given.

Today, everything is different.

The streets I knew have changed, my family and friends have been marked by fear, loss, and displacement…

Growing older

And I have become someone else, shaped by the days of war, the nights of fear, and the need to survive. Between that date and today, not only 365 days have passed, but three years. Every day has left its mark, and every memory has a weight that I still carry.

In more than 700 days of war, I have aged more than in my previous 21 years.

Those 21 years should have been enough to learn how to live. But in more than 700 days, I have learned how to survive.

I have learned to pack my life into a small bag. To calm a child trembling from the explosions.

To wait for hours in lines for bread and water, sometimes for nothing. I learned that stale bread can be more delicious than a feast when shared with someone you love.

I learned to flee death, to lose faces I could never see again, to understand that some silences weigh more than the sound of bombs.

Sarah’s family is raising money to leave Gaza. You can donate here.

Surviving

Being born in Gaza means that your first lullaby is the sound of a missile. That you spend your birthdays under the roar of planes. That you grow up among the ruins.

This year has been filled with violence, displacement, deprivation, and loss. A whole year in which I had to face situations I never could have imagined. And yet, I am still here.

My real triumph is not reaching another year or achieving a goal. My triumph is still being alive. Every day that I continue, despite everything, is an act of survival.

Today, as I mark this year, I am not making a traditional wish. My wish has already come true: I am still here to tell my story.

I celebrate my strength, my ability to carry on despite the difficulties, and the fact that I can still hope for a better future.

This isn’t just another year in my life. It’s a year won over everything that wanted to stop me.

I’m still here. And that’s already a lot.

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