After years of effort by her father to save up money, Sumud* and her family moved into a new home in Gaza. It was a peaceful day for her family on Oct. 7, 2023, when abrupt shouts suddenly pierced the air: ‘One minute! One minute!’

“The Israeli military had called someone in the building in front of us to warn that they were going to bomb our location in one minute,” Sumud said.

Like many others in Gaza on that day, Sumud and her family began gathering their belongings to evacuate immediately.

On Oct. 7, the conflict between Israel and Hamas, the Palestinian militant group, had escalated. According to the International Court of Justice, there has been a ‘plausible genocide’ in Gaza.

“It wasn’t that crowded in our house, but my mind was crowded [with thoughts],” Sumud said. “I was like, ‘What should I do? What should I take?’”

When her family quickly fled the neighborhood, Sumud knew that she might be waving goodbye to her new home.

“I was so happy with my room because I used to share one with my brother, and now I had my own room,” Sumud said. “I was just looking at it, not knowing if it would be my last time seeing it.”

While waiting with hundreds of people on the road, Sumud began to process her situation.

“I was crying so badly­—it was the first time for me to experience something like this,” Sumud said. “Everyone else was silent. No one had the ability to speak because this was something [that could only happen] in our worst dreams.”

After an hour, buildings started getting bombed. Sumud’s home was among them.

“It was really scary. We couldn’t see anything because of the fire and smoke,” Sumud said. “I felt like I saw my whole life change in one minute.”

Once the bombings were over, chemicals were deployed upon people waiting on the road.

“I was the only one who saw the chemicals, so I started shouting, ‘Go go go!’” Sumud said. “All the cars started moving forward.”

Sumud’s father drove towards a friend’s house to seek refuge, which meant they had to cross a dangerous route. The Israeli military had strictly warned the civilians not to enter this road, or they would be killed.

“Our car got stuck between the rocks, and we could see a plane above us,” Sumud said. “We were telling our dad to go quickly, and he was trying really hard to get the car moving again.”

Miraculously, they reached their friend’s home safely.

“We spent the most scary night there,” Sumud said. “All night I could hear the noises of bombings. We put tissues in our ears so we didn’t lose our hearing, because the pressure of the noises was really loud.”

The next morning, Sumud’s father returned to check the remains of their home.

“Once he got out of the building, it started bombing really badly and I thought my dad died,” Sumud said. “I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t call him because there was no network. I was [praying] ‘Please God, I can die but not my dad.’”

Eventually, Sumud’s father returned, looking visibly disturbed.

“His face was black because of the fog, and he was crying. He said the house was destroyed.” Sumud said. “It was the first time seeing my dad cry in my whole life.”

After seeing her father’s tears, Sumud began to reflect on the situation.

“Gaza is like one family; we all stick together. [But during this] I didn’t know who died, who hasn’t died yet and I didn’t know about my friends yet,” Sumud said. “I realized the old Gaza is not coming back.”

Sumud then spent eight days at her grandmother’s house until the bombings approached their location. At that point, northern Gaza was completely unsafe, forcing Sumud and her family to migrate to southern Gaza.

Meanwhile, Sumud’s mother Nisa* was visiting family in the West Bank, where she was then stuck for 40 days due to the situation in Gaza.

“I was afraid and crying when my husband told me what was happening,” said Nisa*. “It was the worst 40 days of my life. I called everybody I knew to ask them if there is a way back to Gaza, because all of the borders were closed. They told me, ‘Are you okay? No one wants to go back to Gaza.’”

Every attempt Nisa made to return was unsuccessful. Finally, on the 14th day, she got a call saying the Israeli military had accepted her entry through the border.

Once Nisa got the news, she called her husband.

“I told him that I am going to Gaza,” Nisa said. “He asked me if it was safe, I told him that I don’t know, but I have no choice.’”

Nisa then boarded the last bus to enter through Gaza. Israeli guards stopped them.

“Four Israeli troops took our phones, they wanted to know if [we were linked with] Hamas, and if we were wanted people,” Nisa said. “They looked at our pictures, social media and more. I stayed on the ground for an hour that night.”

Nisa and other passengers continued their journey until they were required to board Israeli buses. Once they boarded, their eyes were wrapped, their hands were tied to their backs and all of the women’s legs were tied together.

“We stayed for 14 hours without any food, drinks, or the bathroom. There were a lot of noises of women crying,” Nisa said. “It was the hardest night I’ve lived.”

Once the bus arrived at Gaza, Nisa was hoping to gather her bags, which included necessities for her family.

“I asked the Israeli soldier, ‘Where’s my bag?’ and he shouted, ‘No bags for you!’ and told me to run,” Nisa said. “I had an old woman with me and she was really sick. I held her hands and told her ‘Don’t run, don’t worry, we don’t fear them.’’’

Upon her arrival, Nisa and her family reunited.

“It was an amazing moment when I entered the door of my house [and saw] my parents and children,” Nisa said. “At that moment, I told myself that the most important thing was that I am with my children, and I can hug and calm them when they are afraid.”

Sumud and her family stayed at her grandmother’s home for two months, as it remained a safe spot throughout the conflict. Still, the bombings inevitably occurred.

“One night, suddenly everything changed, and we were in danger,” Sumud said. “The noises of the bombings were the loudest we’ve heard and [the house was shaking].”

Sumud’s aunt’s home was the last destination for their family to seek safety, where they spent the remainder of their time in the conflict.

“[The Israeli military] was bombing northern Gaza, and half of southern Gaza, so everyone was crowded in [the other] half of the south,” Sumud said.

Sumud was able to take her attention away from the conflict.

“It was the best part of the genocide because my aunt and cousins lived with us,” Sumud said. “We felt sad lots of times, but [holidays like] Ramadan and Eid covered the bad things. Even if we had war, we celebrated, and having cousins and friends made us feel better.”

Food was scarce as the majority of Gazans were crowded in one area, all trying to buy goods from the same stores.

“There were no snacks, and for five months we didn’t have flour,” Sumud said. “We would create bread from pasta, which didn’t taste good, but we were trying to get comfortable with everything and survive.”

While Sumud and millions of other civilians were struggling to stay alive in Gaza, protests were happening around the world, calling for an end to the conflict.

“We could [mostly only see] posts from people in Palestine, so we didn’t hear much about protests,” Sumud said. “We know that people are trying so hard, but nothing is happening. They’ve been trying to stop the genocide for two years, but nothing changes.”

Sumud’s parents were trying for the family to leave through the Egyptian border. As the prices for tickets were high, Nisa attempted to help herself and her children leave for free, with only the father needing to purchase a ticket. Both times they were at the Egyptian border, the family was denied entry.

“My relative who lived in Canada launched a GoFundMe, and we saved up the money we needed,” Nisa said. “We love Gaza. It wasn’t our choice [to leave], but when we lost our homes, and [there was] fire and bombs around us every moment, I felt like we were pushed to leave.”

Once Sumud’s father got a job in the United States, they moved to McLean last school year, and Sumud attended Longfellow Middle School.

“The first day I went to school, the schedule was very different compared to my schedule at [school] in Gaza,” Sumud said. “I got lost [going to] every single period.”

Sumud had some setbacks when adjusting to her new life here, which led her to form a bond with her Longfellow English teacher Rasha Hashem.

“I went to the wrong recess, and Ms. Hashem saw my schedule and said this was the wrong place to go,” Sumud said. “She hugged me, and I started crying and was saying how I want to go home, back to Palestine.”

Hashem has seen Sumud grow tremendously since meeting her.

“When Sumud told me she was from Gaza, I was very moved,” Hashem said. “Its incredible how much she has improved and her English has improved exponentially. [She has] the power to live on, and I hope she finds a route where she’s going to become a contributing member of society, and to keep a voice of who she is.”

Continuing her journey in America, Sumud frequently remembers the people she left behind.

“When I wake up, I find my mom speaking with all of my family [back home]. Even with my friends, I still talk with them,” Sumud said. “I usually cry every night praying to God that I want to see them again; it’s my biggest dream ever. I always say if I have the chance to go back to Gaza, I would run to see my family and hug every one of them.”

Looking back on her experiences, Sumud reflects on an important lesson that she has learned.

“You can decide if you want to be happy or sad, or if you want to be a good person or bad person,” Sumud said. “Even if you had lots of bad situations in your life, you can still live your life and start over.”

*The names Sumud and Nisa are pseudonyms to protect the identities of a McLean student and her family.*

This story was originally published on The Highlander on October 28, 2025.