Rawan A. Abu Asad is not the type of young woman from Gaza you’d expect to see in the stereotype-blinded media. A beautiful and very bright lady, she and I have shared my longest and by far strongest friendship, cemented by kinship (we are second cousins), through many years. And today, I am prouder than I have ever been: Rawan is packing her bags to travel to the UK, following her acceptance of an offer to study international journalism at the University of Swansea in Wales. I am anxious, yes; as Palestinian Gazans, our ability to travel (and thus achieve our dreams) is constantly challenged by disputes among local and regional politicians who couldn’t care less about us. And I am preparing to feel less hopeful when she leaves. But all of that pales in the face of her determination and my awe of her strength of spirit.

In our seven years of friendship, I have seen Rawan overcome challenging personal losses, social stigmas and professional limitations.

In 2010, she lost her father at the age of 16. He died in a car accident, just three hours after he had agreed to take her out as soon as he would return home. It was the first day of her final high school year—a year that, in our educational system, determines a student’s future (what university they can attend, what they can major in, whether they get a scholarship, etc). It could not have been a worse beginning.

At first, she drowned in grief for quite some time. Soon, however, she was shining again with hope—hope driven by a determination to achieve the dreams she knew would make her beloved father proud. She fiercely fought her feelings of loss and sadness while she was studying for her examinations. That year in school was hectic; her classes and teachers were challenging, the days were long and the nights were sleepless. She began her days with a schedule of six classes, then attended private tutoring sessions, and studied until it was close to midnight.

At the end of the year, she graduated cum laude, honoring her promise to her father.

With her high grades, she was accepted into the engineering program at Gaza's leading university, the Islamic University of Gaza. She studied there for a semester and qualified for an honors scholarship thanks to her excellent performance. However, she discovered she had other passions. I had always observed how she loved stories in all of their forms, including movies and songs, so she decided to change her major to media and journalism at the same university—an act that required strength of conviction and independent thinking, since engineering is perceived as the much more prestigious career.

In Gaza, it is hard for a woman to build a successful career in media and journalism, especially if she does not adhere to the strict "dress" dictated by our social traditions. Although she chooses her battles carefully, Rawan believes how a woman dresses is her choice, part of the inherent right to freedom. Thus, she sometimes has paid a professional price. For example, the way she once dressed for a job interview outweighed her strong qualifications.

She never gave up, however. During her undergraduate years, Rawan developed her skills in blogging, scriptwriting and film-making. One of her films, “On the Borders,” which documented the hardships and risks faced daily by Palestinians living close to the border with Israel, won a national prize in December 2014. Now, she is my colleague at the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor, where she serves in a leadership position for the social media and online crowdfunding department. Recently, she led a team of young Palestinian men and women to promote a fundraising campaign for the We Are Not Numbers project. Thanks to her leadership and the team's dedication, the campaign was successful; 12,000USD was raised in less than a month.

Through all of this, Rawan has given little, if any, attention to negative and demotivating comments from relatives, friends and others who did not believe that a woman from a small town could—or even should—achieve such success. Nevertheless, her family has been very supportive. Her mom has always expressed her pride in her daughter, and supports Rawan’s decision to pursue her graduate studies abroad, even though two other daughters are also leaving the house, one already married and the other going to travel to Spain for an exchange program. This is not the typical Arab mother as portrayed in the media, but there are many like her. In fact, Rawan's ambition largely reflects that of her mother.

My colleagues and I will miss Rawan when she leaves us. Her presence at the office has been very inspiring and joyful. We will miss the times when she creatively leads the "breakfast" planning. We will miss her humor. We will miss the ambition that drives us all to achieve more.

Gaza seems “gray” to so many of us here, both because of the ashes of destruction and the melancholy faces of sick-and-tired people. It is a place whose beauty is undermined by war, siege and economic suffocation. Because of this, a friend like Rawan is a very seriously appreciated gift, and it will be hard to give it up. A friend like her adds color to life, making it vivid and lively. I finally hope the siege does not stop her from achieving her dreams. I hope the siege does not last long, so it does not prevent Rawan from coming back soon. I hope no war separates us. Amen!

Posted August 12, 2016