Resilience Through the Lens: Lessons from 2023 and 2024
A dynamic image of a Palestine protester energetically leading chants at a rally, exemplifying courage and the power of collective voice.
The years 2023 and 2024 have been some of the most challenging and transformative of my life. They tested me in ways I never expected, bringing me to my lowest point and making me question everything I thought I knew. Yet, in the midst of that darkness, these years became a turning point—redefining my purpose and reshaping how I see the world and my craft.
It all began on October 7th, 2023, when I stumbled upon the work of Bisan and Motez. They were using photography and media—the same tools I have always cherished—to tell their stories. But their stories were different. They revealed humanity’s rawest truths, exposing the depths of cruelty and injustice.
For so long, my camera had been a source of joy, a way to capture life’s happiest and most love-filled moments. Seeing their work was like holding a mirror up to my own, forcing me to confront the privilege of only showing life’s brightest sides. Their images captured a different kind of humanity—a humanity struggling, enduring, and persisting against all odds. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.
As I immersed myself in their stories, I found myself unraveling. The life I knew, the beliefs I held, and the country I loved felt like they were slipping through my fingers. I watched, heartbroken, as the ideals my Nana had instilled in me—the importance of standing for what is right, no matter the cost—were betrayed by the actions of my own nation.
In those moments, I felt powerless. But then, I came across a poem by Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer titled "If I Must Die."
If I Must Die.
If I must die, you must live to tell my story,
to sell my things,
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(made white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza,
while looking heaven in the eye,
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell,
not even to his flesh,
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made,
flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there,
bringing back love.
If I must die
let it bring hope,
let it be a tale.
The poem lit a spark in me that I thought had been extinguished. It reminded me that while I may not have the power to change the world on a grand scale, I could make a difference in my own way. I could start with my children, my community, and my lens. I could use my photography not only to document resilience but to celebrate the joy and hope that persist even in the face of adversity.
Now, as 2025 approaches, I feel more grounded than ever. These past two years have been an education unlike any other, teaching me that no force can truly extinguish the human spirit. Resilience isn’t just an act of survival; it’s an act of defiance.
Capturing moments infused with the spirit of sumud—the unwavering resilience that inspires. Every laugh, tear, and embrace tells a story of hope and determination. Here’s to creating lasting memories that reflect the dreams and futures we hold dear. Let's celebrate your unique journey with playful storytelling through my lens!
Check out Jax Palestine Solidarity Network.
Oppressors have always tried to bury those who dare to thrive for life and freedom. But they fail to see that the oppressed are seeds, waiting for the right season to bloom.
While I am not Palestinian, the seeds planted in my heart by these stories have grown, deeply rooted in my own purpose. Their resilience has reshaped how I approach my work and my life.
Today, my camera is no longer just a tool for capturing smiles and celebrations. It’s a way to amplify the stories that need to be told, to shine a light on both the resilience and the beauty that endure even in the darkest times.
To anyone reading this: Your story matters. No matter how small or quiet it may seem, it has the power to inspire, to spark change, and to plant seeds of hope. Together, through love, truth, and steadfastness, we can nurture a season of blooming.
A little boy wearing a keffiyeh holds his dad's hand from behind leaving World of Nations Jacksonville, Fl
