Taqwa Ahmed Al-Wawi is an aspiring writer, poet, and English literature student at the Islamic University of Gaza. Through her words, she strives to amplify Gaza’s voice and shed light on stories often left untold.
“I come from Gaza—a place where hope rises from the rubble and dreams are built amidst hardship,” she says. “Writing is not just a form of expression; it’s a refuge from a harsh reality—a space where I rediscover myself and map out my ambitions.”
Every word she writes carries the weight of lived experience and the promise of a better tomorrow—a future she is already shaping with courage and purpose.
She has collaborated with, and had her work featured in, leading international platforms such as The Electronic Intifada, Mondoweiss, The Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, The Palestine Chronicle, The Markaz Review, Middle East Monitor, Al Jazeera English, Middle East Eye, The Massachusetts Review, the Institute for Palestine Studies, Prism, The New Arab, The Intercept, Truthout, Politics Today, The Nation, ArabLit Quarterly (Magazine), and Social Text.
Taqwa also serves as an editor for Baladi Magazine, where her poetry has been published, as well as in Opol, combining her passion for both writing and editing to elevate voices that need to be heard.
See Taqwa’s porfolio.
Current as of October 2025
‘I want to read and write. That is my future. I want to be an astronaut, to fly above all this.’
I am nineteen, they say / but do not mistake this number / for youth or innocence.
My eyes open before the light finds the room— / outside my window the world explodes.
The war has shaken our buildings, but it has not destroyed our will to learn, to grow, and to hope.
School and Qu’ran completion certificates, notebooks, pens, gifts: Each item has an invisible pull, as though it was a part of me.
I can’t buy my usual post-exam treats, which makes me sad, but what’s worse is that the store shelves are empty of even basic foods.
In Gaza, death has scarred every surviving soul, yet we survive, as individuals, and as a nation.
Living under flimsy tarps, family members sift flour for bugs, walk through sewage to fetch water, and wash clothes with frozen hands.
I attended Islamic University of Gaza for just one month before it was targeted by Israeli missiles.
Pretend food made of sand, drawings of martyred relatives, and games played on rubble reflect the wartime reality.
Most years, our holy month has been marked by tragedy, yet I am striving this year to experience it with joy, not fear.
Abd Al-Salam’s family was torn in half by an Israeli airstrike, leaving two children without their playmates or father.
