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.
Kada sam napunila 19 godina, počela je moja karijera prvog ženskog fotoreportera na pojasu Gaze, u Palestini. Moj posao ženskog fotografa je smatran za ozbiljnu uvredu lokalne tradicije, koji je stvorio trajnu stigmu za mene i moju porodicu. Muški popunjeno polje je učinilo moje prisustvo nepoželjnim po svim nivoima. Istakli su da žena ne sme da radi posao muškarca. Novinarske agencije odbile su da me obučavaju zbog mog pola. Znak "Ne" je bio 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.
Trojica mojih kolega otišli su tako daleko da su me odveli u otvorenu zonu bombardovanja gde su zvuci eksplozija bili jedino što sam mogla da čujem. Prašina je bila svuda u vazduhu i zemlja se tresla kao ljuljaška ispod mene. Tek sam tada shvatila da nismo tu da snimimo događaj kada su sva trojica ušla u oklopljen džip i odvezla se, mašući i smejući se, ostavljajući me iza u zoni bombardovanja.
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, osetila sam se prestravljeno, poniženo, i bilo mi je žao same sebe. Postupak mojih kolega nije bila jedina pretnja smrću koju sam dobila, ali je 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 ženskog života u Gazi je pasivna. Sve do skoro, mnogim ženama nije bilo dozvoljeno da rade ili da se obrazuju. U vremenima duplog rata uključujući socijalne restrikcije žena i izraelsko-palestinski konflikt, ženske tamne i svetle priče blede. Muškarcima, ženske priče su izgledale kao nedosledne.
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.
Počela sam da obraćam mnogo više pažnje na život žena u Gazi. Zbog mog pola, imala sam pristup svetovima koji su zabranjeni mojim kolegama. Pored očiglednog bola i borbe, postojala je zdrava doza smeha i postignuća. Pored policijske postave u Gazi, tokom prvog rata u Gazi, izraelski vazdušni napad uništio je postavu i slomili su mi nos tokom toga. Na trenutak, sve što sam videla bila je belina, jarka belina, poput ovih svetala. Pomislila sam, ili sam oslepela, ili sam u raju. Dok nisam otvorila oči, zabeležila sam taj 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.
Muhamed Hader, palestinski radnik koji je proveo dve decenije u Izraelu, kao plan za penziju, odlučio je da izgradi četvorospratnu kuću i tokom prve kopnene operacije u njegovom komšiluku, njegova kuća je sravnjena do zemlje. Ništa nije ostalo osim golubova koje je čuvao i đakuzija, kade koju je doneo iz Tel Aviva. Muhamed je odneo kadu na vrh ruševine i počeo je svakog jutra da svojoj deci priređuje kupku sa penom.
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.
Moj posao nije bio da sakrijem ožiljke rata, već da pokažem punu sliku neviđenih priča u Gazi. Kao ženskog palestinskog fotoreportera avantura borbe, preživljavanja i svakodnevnog života me je inspirisala da prevaziđem društveni tabu i da vidim drugu stranu rata i njegovih posledica. Postala sam svedok sa izborom: pobeći ili ostati na mestu.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)