When I turned 19, I started my career as the first female photojournalist in the Gaza Strip, Palestine. My work as a woman photographer was considered a serious insult to local traditions, and created a lasting stigma for me and my family. The male-dominated field made my presence unwelcome by all possible means. They made clear that a woman must not do a man's job. Photo agencies in Gaza refused to train me because of my gender. The "No" sign was pretty clear.
Ao cumprir os 19, comecei a miña carreira como a primeira muller fotoxornalista na Franxa de Gaza, en Palestina. O meu traballo como fotógrafa era considerado un grave insulto ás tradicións locais, e creou un estigma duradeiro sobre min e a miña familia. O territorio dominado por homes converteume nunha presenza molesta por todos os medios posibles. Deixaron claro que unha muller ten prohibido facer o traballo dun home. As axencias de fotografía de Gaza rexeitaron adestrarme por causa do meu xénero. A negativa foi moi clara.
Three of my colleagues went as far as to drive me to an open air strike area where the explosion sounds were the only thing I could hear. Dust was flying in the air, and the ground was shaking like a swing beneath me. I only realized we weren't there to document the event when the three of them got back into the armored Jeep and drove away, waving and laughing, leaving me behind in the open air strike zone.
Tres compañeiros meus chegaron a levarme en coche a unha área baixo ataque aéreo onde os ruídos das explosións eran o único que podía oír. O po estaba suspendido no aire e o chan tremía coma un bambán baixo os meus pés. Só me decatei de que non estabamos alí para documentar o suceso cando eles tres subiron de volta ao todo terreo acoirazado e marcharon, saudando coa man e ríndose abandonándome naquela zona exposta ao ataque aéreo.
For a moment, I felt terrified, humiliated, and sorry for myself. My colleagues' action was not the only death threat I have received, but it was the most dangerous one.
Por un intre sentinme aterrorizada, humillada, tiña compaixón de min mesma. A acción dos meus compañeiros non foi a única ameaza de morte que teño recibido, pero foi a máis perigosa.
The perception of women's life in Gaza is passive. Until a recent time, a lot of women were not allowed to work or pursue education. At times of such doubled war including both social restrictions on women and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, women's dark and bright stories were fading away. To men, women's stories were seen as inconsequential.
A percepción que se ten da vida da muller en Gaza é pasiva. Ata hai pouco tempo, moitas mulleres non tiñan permitido traballar ou procurar unha educación. En momentos desa dobre guerra que incluía tanto as restricións sociais ás mulleres como o conflito palestino-israelí, as historias das mulleres, fermosas ou tráxicas, esvaecíanse. Entre os homes, as historias das mulleres eran vistas como intrascendentes.
I started paying closer attention to women's lives in Gaza. Because of my gender, I had access to worlds where my colleagues were forbidden. Beyond the obvious pain and struggle, there was a healthy dose of laughter and accomplishments. In front of a police compound in Gaza City during the first war in Gaza, an Israeli air raid managed to destroy the compound and break my nose. For a moment, all I saw was white, bright white, like these lights. I thought to myself I either got blind or I was in heaven. By the time I managed to open my eyes, I had documented this moment.
Comecei a prestar máis atención ás vidas das mulleres de Gaza. Polo meu xénero, tiña acceso a mundos que aos meus colegas lles estaban vetados. Máis aló da evidente dor e da dificultade había unha cantidade saudable de risas e logros. Fronte a un recinto policial na cidade de Gaza durante a primeira guerra na zona, un ataque aéreo israelí conseguiu destruír o recinto e romperme o nariz. Por un momento, só puiden ver un resplandor branco coma estas luces. Pensei para min que, ou ben quedara cega, ou estaba no ceo. Para cando logrei abrir os ollos, tiña documentado este momento.
Mohammed Khader, a Palestinian worker who spent two decades in Israel, as his retirement plan, he decided to build a four-floor house, only by the first field operation at his neighborhood, the house was flattened to the ground. Nothing was left but the pigeons he raised and a jacuzzi, a bathtub that he got from Tel Aviv. Mohammed got the bathtub on the top of the rubble and started giving his kids an every morning bubble bath.
Mohammed Khader, un traballador palestino que pasou dúas décadas en Israel, decidiu como plan de xubilación construír unha casa de catro andares e tan só coa primeira operación de campo no seu barrio a casa foi derrubada ata os alicerces. Non quedou nada máis que as pombas criadas por el e un jacuzzi, unha bañeira que trouxera de Tel Aviv. Mohammed instalou a bañeira por riba dos escombros e comezou a darlles aos seus fillos un baño de burbullas cada mañá.
My work is not meant to hide the scars of war, but to show the full frame of unseen stories of Gazans. As a Palestinian female photographer, the journey of struggle, survival and everyday life has inspired me to overcome the community taboo and see a different side of war and its aftermath. I became a witness with a choice: to run away or stand still.
O meu traballo non pretende ocultar as cicatrices da guerra senón amosar a imaxe completa de historias decoñecidas dos gazatís. Como muller fotógrafa e palestina a viaxe de loita, supervivencia e vida cotiá tenme inspirado a superar o tabú comunitario e captar un punto de vista diferente da guerra e as súas consecuencias. Tornei nunha testemuña cunha elección: escapar ou seguir en pé.
Thank you.
Grazas.
(Applause)
(Aplausos)