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.
Kad sam navršila 19 godina, započela sam karijeru kao prvi ženski fotoreporter u Pojasu Gaze, u Palestini. Moj je posao ženskog fotografa smatran za ozbiljnu uvredu lokalnim običajima i stvorio je trajnu stigmu za mene i moju obitelj. Ovo je muški-orijentirano polje učinilo moju prisutnost nepoželjnom svim mogućim sredstvima. Jasno su mi pokazali kako žena ne smije raditi posao muškarca. Fotografske su me agencije u Gazi odbile obučiti zbog mog spola. Znak "Ne" bio je prilično jasan.
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.
Troje mojih kolega otišli su toliko daleko da su me odveli u područje zračnih napada gdje su zvuci eksplozija bili jedino što sam mogla čuti. Prašina je letjela zrakom, a tlo je podrhtavalo poput ljuljačke ispod mene. Shvatila sam kako nismo ondje kako bismo dokumentirali događaj kad su njih trojica sjeli u oklopljen džip i odvezli se, mašući i smijući se, ostavljajući me u području zračnih napada.
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.
Na trenutak sam se osjetila prestravljeno, poniženo i samosažalijevala sam se. Čin mojih kolega nije bila jedina prijetnja smrću koju sam dobila, ali je to bila najopasnija.
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.
Percepcija života žene u Gazi je pasivna. Donedavno je mnogim ženama bilo zabranjeno raditi ili se školovati. U takvim vremenima dvostrukih ratova koji su uključivali društvene restrikcije ženama i izraelsko-palestinski sukob, mračne i svijetle priče žena su blijedjele. Muškarcima su se priče žena činile nebitnim.
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.
Ja sam počela više pažnje obraćati životu žena u Gazi. Zbog svog sam spola imala pristup svijetu koji je bio zabranjen mojim kolegama. Preko očite patnje i borbe, postojala je zdrava doza smijeha i postignuća. Ispred policije u Gazi tijekom prvog rata u Gazi, izraelski su zračni napadi uspjeli razoriti kompleks i razbiti mi nos. Na trenutak, jedino što sam vidjela bilo je bijelo, žarko bijelo, poput ovih svjetala. Pomislila sam kako sam, ili ostala slijepa, ili sam u raju. Kad sam uspjela otvoriti oči, dokumentirala sam ovaj trenutak.
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, palestinski radnik, koji je proveo dva desetljeća u Izraelu, za mirovinu je odlučio sagraditi četverokatnu kuću koja je već u prvoj vojnoj operaciji u četvrti sravnjena sa zemljom. Ništa nije ostalo osim golubova koje je uzgojio i jacuzzija, kade koju je dobio iz Tel Aviva. Mohammed je stavio kadu na vrh ruševine i počeo je svakog jutra ondje kupati svoju djecu.
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.
Svrha mog rada nije da sakrije ožiljke rata, već da pokaže punu sliku neispričanih priča ljudi iz Gaze. Kao palestinski ženski fotograf, putovanje borbe, opstanka i svakodnevnog života inspirirao me da prebrodim društveni tabu i pogledam drugu stranu rata i njegovih posljedica. Postala sam svjedok s izborom: bježati ili ostati mirna.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)