Ramzy Baroud/Al Jazeera

Lamia, Reem, Shaima and Dwlat are powerful Palestinian women just like Ahed, but their stories have been ignored.

Ahed Tamimi, the 17-year-old Palestinian activist from the village of Nabi Saleh in the West Bank, is an icon of a rebellious young generation of Palestinians which has demonstrated it has little tolerance for Israel’s persistent violations of their rights and freedoms. After spending eight months in jail for confronting Israeli occupation soldiers in her backyard, Ahed emerged even stronger and more determined to convey the pains and struggles of her people to the world.
“The power is with the people, and the people will and can decide their destiny and decide the future,” she said, addressing a crowd of supporters and journalists after her release.
Ahed’s story garnered a disproportionate amount of attention from international media outlets which have otherwise often ignored the courage and suffering of numerous Palestinian girls and women living under Israeli military occupation and siege for many years.
Recognising this fact, Ahed’s mother, Nariman said: “Frankly it is probably Ahed’s looks that prompted this worldwide solidarity, and that’s racist, by the way, because many Palestinian children are in Ahed’s position but weren’t treated in this way.”
There is much truth to this assertion. When Palestinian women are not invisible in Western media coverage, they are seen as hapless victims of circumstances beyond their control – the military occupation of their land and the “backwardness” of their own patriarchal society. They are hardly seen as agents of change; at best, they are presented as trapped in a “conflict” in which they play no part.
The invisibility of Arab, Muslim women in Western media is rooted in a long history of colonialism, rife with racist misconceptions and misrepresentations. In the Palestinian case, such misrepresentations undermine the political and humanitarian urgency of the plight of Palestinian women and the Palestinian people as a whole.
In truth, Palestinian women are hardly bystanders in the collective victimisation and resistance of the Palestinians, and regardless of their political orientation, religion or residence, they deserve to be made visible and understood within the larger context of the Israeli occupation of Palestine.
What follows are the brief stories of four powerful women from Gaza who, despite their struggle and courage, remain invisible to the media. They are raising families, teaching music, protesting at the Gaza-Israel fence, suffering their own losses and injuries, and persevering in the face of a harsh life under the blockade.
When Lamia’s husband, Ghazi Abu Mustafa, was killed by an Israeli sniper on July 27 at the fence separating Gaza from Israel, she was serving in the field as a volunteer paramedic.
Lamia is the oldest of nine sisters and brothers. Her family, now residing in the city of Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip, is originally from the town of B’ir Al-Saba’a in historical Palestine and, like millions of Palestinians in Gaza and elsewhere, is now permanently exiled.
Lamia’s belief in her right of return to her family home in Palestine was what motivated her to join the Great March of Return on March 30, which also marked “Land Day”.
Her decision was strongly supported by her husband Ghazi, 43, who also joined the march on its very first day. Lamia offered to volunteer as a paramedic, aiding hundreds of wounded Palestinians every Friday. She knew too well how critical her role could be for those brave fighters and for their families. In the past, her husband was wounded several times while confronting Israeli soldiers.
His first injury, which blinded his left eye, was sustained during the largely non-violent mobilisation against the Israeli occupation (1987-1993) known as the First Intifada. In the March of Return, he was repeatedly shot, and with Lamia by his side, he returned to the fence, limping, to stand in solidarity with his people.
Lamia and Ghazi faced their challenges together, raised a family in impoverished Gaza and protested side by side as the Gaza march galvanised the whole community, men and women alike, like never before.
In July, Ghazi was fatally shot. He died while Lamia was saving the life of another badly wounded protester, Nahid Qadeh.
Lamia was devastated but not broken. A life of hardship and pain taught her strength and resilience. “A boat that is dedicated to helping others will never sink,” Ghazi told her one day as they joined a large crowd of protesters at the fence. The widowed mother of six has every intention to resume her work at the fence.