Between the Lines: Noor Abu Mariam

Between the Lines: Noor Abu Mariam

Noor Abu Mariam is not waiting for life to return to normal. She’s building something from what’s left.

At 21, Noor is a Business Administration student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, majoring in the English track, and a Social Media Manager for Gaza Great Minds School. Before the war, her days were filled with digital campaigns and lecture halls. She curated content to promote education. She balanced algorithms with advocacy, pixels with purpose. Everything she did was tied to a quiet belief: that change begins with knowledge and that knowledge begins with access.

But then the war began, and the world she was building collapsed overnight.

“We had to cross Al-Rasheed Street, stepping over bodies and bloodstained debris,” she says. “That scene was so horrific, I was left speechless for a full day unable to talk or cry.”

Noor was displaced with her family to Rafah. Her role shifted radically and immediately. No longer just a student or a content strategist, she found herself standing before displaced children, leading emergency education and psychosocial activities in overcrowded shelter schools. She put aside her own grief to become a source of light for others.

“I had to set my pain aside and focus on making the children laugh and feel safe,” she says. “That moment marked a turning point for me.”

But it wasn’t just the war outside that changed her. It was the internal war, the one between memory and loss, between identity and survival. When she wasn’t with the children, she turned inward to writing. Then, unexpectedly, to drawing. Words were her first form of release, but images gave shape to the pain she couldn’t articulate.

“I’ve recently turned to drawing as a new outlet. It helps me stay grounded during these times.”

Noor carries many roles; student, aid worker, writer, artist, sister. But none weigh as heavily as the role of survivor. The trauma of displacement is one thing. The fear of permanent loss is another. That fear became real when her aunt was killed in an airstrike on Al-Shati refugee camp.

“Since then, I’ve carried a deep fear of losing those I love.”

Yet she continues. She continues because of her mother; her anchor. “She’s the reason behind my strength, the same woman who won the ‘Creative Woman Award’ in 2023.” It is her mother’s quiet leadership that allows Noor to keep showing up, both at home and in the world.

Noor and Her Mother

It would be easy to frame Noor’s journey as resilience. But that word feels too neat. Noor’s strength doesn’t come from being unshaken, it comes from being honest about how much it hurts, and still moving forward.

“It’s not easy to keep going in the face of daily trauma, displacement, and loss. We are humans. We break down. We miss the people we’ve lost. We long for safety.”

But there is something she clings to, something small, steady, and stubborn.
Hope.
And a dream.

“To complete my master’s degree. Then my PhD. So I can give back to my people with knowledge and purpose.”

She dreams of a Gaza reborn. A Gaza where children don’t need emergency education in tents. A Gaza where drawing is no longer a coping tool, but a celebration.

To the world, she has just one question:
“Hasn’t it been enough? When will all this madness end?”

To women like her, who are trying to make a difference while carrying fear, loss, and duty, her message is simple:

“Don’t stop dreaming. One day, your wishes will come true. Keep going, no matter how dark it feels.”

Because Noor, whose name means light, doesn’t just shine in darkness. She walks through it with the quiet fire of someone who knows exactly who she is, and why she’s here.