Shahd Alnaami
Shahd Alnaami is a 21-year-old Palestinian writer, poet, and translator. During the genocide, she has been displaced multiple times, her university was destroyed, and her 13-year-old sister was martyred by the IOF.
Throughout this all, Shahd has continued to write and to study. She has been published by Al Jazeera, Mondoweiss, We Are Not Numbers, and other platforms. She has also been working tirelessly to host writing workshops, amplify her and other Gaza writers' voices, while also exposing the occupation's destruction and showcasing her community's resilience.
illustration via @ahlan.my.darlings
“I am committed to illuminating the struggles of Palestine through the art of language, transforming our stories into a universal narrative that resonates across continents.
Inspired by the belief that ‘We will write until Palestine becomes free or we die,’ I view writing as both a beacon of hope and a form of resistance.
If we, the storytellers and dreamers, do not speak up, who will?
Our words are our weapon, our voice for the Palestinian cause, and our bridge to the world. Through my writing, I strive to ensure that the voices of my people are heard and our stories are told because we are not just numbers.”
Her zine made during the genocide – The Writings of Shahd Alnaami – has been distributed internationally and translated into Spanish, French, Italian, and more, with proceeds supporting her campaign and remaining family. Her digital graphic novel, "Friendship, Love, and Loss in Gaza" was published by Al Jazeera.
Shahd is also a contributor and curator of Coastal Lines Press, "a collective of writers in Gaza, turning words into life-saving supplies for our families." Booksellers or individuals around the world can support the initiative by printing and selling wherever they are.
"Through Zines from Gaza, we publish independent booklets of poetry, essays, and testimonies that travel like tiny vessels from coast to coast, carrying stories of survival, resistance, and hope... Our name, Coastal Lines Press, honors the Mediterranean Sea, which anchors life in the region, and celebrates the ‘lines’ of language - words, sentences, prose, and poems - that connect writers to readers worldwide."
You can also listen to a recent interview with Shahd:
Palcast podcast - August 2025
LISTEN (43 min)
Read writing from Shahd
One Day
I'm tired of calling this
life mine
and breathing fear
like air.
Tired of waking up
to smoke,
to rubble,
to one more name
we lost.
Tired of walking
the streets,
colored by grey,
with faces too worn
to even smile.
Can life and death
share the same breath?
Can love still bloom
from a ground watered
with blood?
And yet
beside a shattered home,
little girls sketch tomorrow
on white paper,
drawing a sun
giving birth to a new
beginning.
A reason to keep
breathing.
I ask for one day:
No bombs
No loss.
No last goodbyes.
A meal.
A nap.
A clear blue sky.
Just one day
to feel alive.
I am feeling you always, little sister
I am feeling you- watching
me from afar.
I am feeling you- closer
to me than ever before.
I am feeling you- playing
with the stars.
I am feeling you- proud
of me, happy and free.
I am feeling you- walking
with me wherever I go.
I am feeling you- smiling
next to the moon.
I am feeling you- through
the bracelet you made for me.
I am feeling you- whispering
when words fall short.
I am feeling you- a breeze
that kisses my face every night.
I am feeling you- calling
my name when I search for light.
I am feeling you- a heartbeat
inside me that never fades.
I am feeling you- crossing
borders like the birds.
I am feeling you
and I miss you so much.
Don't ask me my age
How old are you? In times of war
A five-year-old child is not five anymore.
He has lived ninety years in the span of four.
So please, don’t ask my age, I implore.
Sadness, pain, agony and more,
Are these words enough to describe the core?
Rubble of homes that can barely store
Our shattered dreams, the things we adore.
Is this the life our parents foresaw —
Homelessness, massacres, starvation, gore?
Through endless nights, darker than before,
We navigate what we abhore.
Try to understand and don’t explore.
Leave the question of age behind a closed door.
One year old, twenty, or seventy-four,
Does it matter beneath the genocide’s roar?
Watch: In February 2025, Shahd interviewed librarian Wissam Maghari of Al-Maghazi Library – which, despite devastation, still stands and has been used by the community to serve as a refuge and tool for the community's children. The goal of keeping it running is to ease psychological distress through learning and creative expression.
Shahd also wrote for Al Jazeera about going there for the first time and what it came to symbolize to her.
“The Maghazi Library wasn’t just a building; it was a portal to a world without boundaries. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of awe as I crossed its wooden doorway. It was as if I had stepped into a different realm, where every corner whispered secrets and promised adventures.”
Discover more Gaza writers & artists
Follow the links below to see a list of other creative individuals in the Strip to support and amplify.