From Chalkboards to Checkpoints: Hanya’s Humanitarian Journey in Gaza

Hanya always dreamed in verses. A literature graduate, she started her professional journey in the classroom, teaching high school and ESL students. Her world was shaped by poetry, language, and the passion of young minds learning to express themselves. But when the war began, everything shifted. The schools closed. Her students scattered. The familiar rhythm of her life was replaced by chaos, displacement, and silence.

In those first few months, Hanya lost more than just her job, she lost her sense of direction. With no classroom, no students, and no way to teach, she sank into a deep depression. Her energy felt wasted as she watched her community suffer. Families were forced to flee, aid was scarce, and her beloved Gaza was unraveling. That’s when something changed.

Hanya made the decision to pivot not away from her values, but toward a new way of serving them. She joined an American NGO as a liaison officer. In a small team, she found herself doing everything from attending high-level UN meetings to physically distributing aid in the field. She quickly became a critical link between needs on the ground and the systems that could meet them.

A year into her work, funding uncertainties forced Hanya to look for a more stable opportunity. She was offered a new role, higher than the one she applied for, at British-based organization called Action for Humanity. As a senior project coordinator, Hanya finally felt she had a real seat at the table. Her voice, shaped by lived experience and a deep connection to her community, now helped shape the aid itself, ensuring services truly reflected the priorities and realities of Gazans.

Her work transformed how she saw the world. Before the war, she had been nominated for a Fulbright scholarship and had dreams of pursuing an MA in international education. But through her frontline experiences, Hanya realized that humanitarian work wasn’t just important, it was life-saving. It gave her a purpose during unimaginable darkness and taught her that in war, even access to survival is shaped by inequality. Her job became an act of resistance, a way to push against the forces that threatened to erase her people.

But nothing about her work was easy. Delivering aid in Gaza meant fighting daily against the blockade. Shipments of essentials; food, medical supplies, even agricultural tools were often denied entry or delayed indefinitely. Hanya found herself in heartbreaking conversations with families she knew personally, trying to explain that the help they desperately needed was stuck behind a checkpoint, rotting in the sun.

Still, she kept going. Giving up was never an option.

Beyond her official duties, Hanya used her personal network to connect vulnerable people with lifesaving services, from treating malnourished children to helping women through complicated pregnancies when medicine was out of reach. Often, she did this outside working hours, driven by a deep sense of duty and love for her people.

Balancing this work with her personal life wasn’t easy. Hanya, like many in Gaza, was also displaced. Her days included planning aid distributions and worrying about whether she and her mother could find clean water for laundry or enough food for dinner. Yet, she carved out moments for friendship and support, leaning on peers from other organizations and a life coach to care for her own mental health.

Being a woman in this line of work added another layer of complexity. Hanya often faced dismissiveness when presenting ideas only to see the same suggestions validated when voiced by male colleagues. She refused to be silenced. Instead, she challenged these biases and insisted on being heard not just for herself, but for every woman navigating similar spaces.

Hanya’s story is one of transformation, resilience, and fierce love for her people. From classrooms to conflict zones, she carries the same mission: to educate, to empower, and to restore dignity. Her message to other women is simple but powerful: Don’t wait for permission to step in, create your own space. Your voice matters, and the world needs it.

In a place where survival itself is a daily struggle, Hanya dares to dream bigger. Not just for peace, but for agency. For a future where Gazans aren’t merely surviving but living with dignity, autonomy, and hope.