Brian K. Barber, PhD is Senior Non-Resident Scholar at the Middle East Policy Council, Senior Fellow at the Institute for Palestine Studies, and Professor Emeritus, University of Tennessee. His most recent book is No Way but Forward: Life Stories of Three Families in the Gaza Strip. See www.bkbarber.com
We may not meet again after today. We may all die at any time, my friend. May we be a beautiful memory in your life. If we die, remember that we lived dreaming of peace, that we were innocent and that we were always peaceful.
Hammam sent me the message above on Oct. 13, 2023, revealing just how long Gazans have agonized under Israel's siege of the Strip. He and his family have remained in constant contact since—conversations I narrated alongside the life stories of two other men and their families in my book, "No Way but Forward." In that volume, I draw from my interviews and interactions with them over the past 30 years, including the first full year of the genocide.
Increasingly, and unsurprisingly, these families and Palestinians in Gaza broadly are expressing such sentiments as terror around them rages: Incessant bombardment for over 700 days; the constant menace of whining, armed drones and quadcopters overhead; mass killing, injury, amputations, illness, property destruction, forced displacements, famine and likely expulsion. The situation in Gaza today has never been worse across Israel's two-year-long genocide, as testimonies from the three families that I have communicated with attest.
The Families
The families' middle-class fathers have lived similar lives. All were born and raised in the Khan Younis and Nuseirat refugee camps with up to eight siblings. All received bachelor's degrees in English at Gazan universities, with two receiving their master's and doctorate degrees from abroad in educational leadership. All are married and have 12 children in total. And all have stayed in Gaza, even when faced with several difficult decision points across their lives. Yet, they differ significantly in personality, the roles they have played in resisting the Israeli occupation and their career trajectories.
Hammam, 50, has always referred to himself as a "social man." Throughout his life, he has derived meaning and satisfaction primarily from his social connections with parents, siblings, friends, colleagues and students. He has always been a problem solver, which suits him well for his duty as Mukhtar (mayor or judge), solving problems among the 3,000 members in Gaza of his family branch of the much larger Barbakh clan.
Despite receiving his doctorate in educational leadership, he prefers his position as headteacher of a boy's school in a very poor area near the eastern border because he sees how much he is helping the youth. He married Shada in 2005, and they have three sons and one daughter.
The overriding concern of these fathers since the beginning of the catastrophe has been to protect and provide for their children.
- Brian K. Barber
Khalil, 54, was also born and raised in the Khan Yunis refugee camp as the third son among six children. Various experiences—including multiple instances of imprisonment and torture for leading demonstrations against the occupying forces during the first intifada—led him to human rights activism. After finishing his BA in English in Gaza, he wanted to pursue graduate studies abroad, but Israeli officials forbade him from leaving the Strip.
Instead, he took a job as head of the Al-Dameer Association for Human Rights in Gaza City. His fearless criticism of all abuses—by Israel, the Palestinian Authority (PA) and Hamas—got him into plenty of trouble. He married Sahar in 1996, and they have two daughters and a son. To facilitate their jobs, Khalil and Sahar left the camp after their marriage to live in an apartment in Gaza City.
Hussam, 52, was born and raised in the Nuseirat refugee camp in the middle of the Strip as the oldest of nine children. I refer to him as the "scholar" because of his lifelong passion for learning and teaching. He led his camp's youth group during the first intifada, landing him in prison many times, where guards tortured him severely. He received his bachelor's degree in English in Gaza, began teaching, and was fortunate to receive a scholarship—and permission to leave Gaza—for a master's degree in educational leadership in the United States.
He earned a doctorate in the same field in Malaysia years later. Hussam has climbed the ranks of academia to his current position of associate dean of one of Gaza's technical colleges, which has been physically destroyed but still operates remotely. Hussam married Mai in 2000, and they have one son and four daughters.
Loss and Injury
The families of Hammam, Khalil and Hussam are fortunate not to be numbered among the at least 2,600 Palestinian families in Gaza that Israeli forces have totally annihilated since October 2023. But like all other families, they have suffered substantial loss and injury. When speaking of their suffering, they all repeatedly mourn for those in Gaza who suffer more than they do.
Hussam's younger brother, Omar—a well-known novelist and poet—was the first Palestinian in Gaza to be killed on Oct. 7, 2023, struck directly by a missile while out for a jog on the Strip's coastline. On April 22, 2024, Israeli fighter jets bombed the family home of Hussam's wife, Mai, killing one of her brothers, his wife, their son and two cousins while injuring two other brothers. Hussam wrote to me the next day:
How terrible it was to dig in vain through the rubble with our bare hands to try to save the lives of the people still under it. How painful it was to all of us when we finally could pick up the corpse of a 10-year-old girl before the eyes of her helpless father. How grievous it was when we had to leave the site because it became so dark and dangerous to stay there, leaving behind people under the rubble, who could be waiting for a window of hope to be picked up.
Eleven days later, Israeli bombs killed another of Mai's brothers.
Hammam's family nearly experienced a similar loss. He wrote to me on Nov. 10, 2024:
To my dearest friend, I never wished to tell you something this bad, but last night, my brother Hani was returning from his work in a car marked as Save the Children. They passed by when one tent next to the road was targeted…Shrapnel sliced his abdomen, severed the major artery in one of his legs and damaged his liver, stomach, spleen and intestines. He underwent surgery for over seven hours and is now in intensive care. His condition is stable, thank God, Lord of the Worlds, that he is still alive.
Fortunately, Hani has made a full recovery.
On July 20, 2025, Khalil wrote about how helpless he felt when looking at his son Mohammed, who had been badly injured when Israeli forces bombed the Al Baqa Café on June 30, 2025, killing 41 and injuring 75. Shrapnel punctured his entire body and fractured his right leg.
He needs proper nutrition to help him recover, or he may not walk again for a long time…But we live in a besieged area surrounded by occupation soldiers who block food and medicine from reaching us.
Damage and Displacement
Beyond that pain and loss, bombings and artillery have damaged the homes of all three families up to four separate times. This, alongside multiple forced displacement orders from the Israel Defense Forces (IDF)—between six and 10 times—has displaced the families for much of these two years. They stayed with parents, other relatives and in tents. On his first displacement in December 2023, Hammam wrote:
I gathered my school certificates, my children's school certificates, my wife's certificates and my passport and put them in a bag. My wife put some clothes in another bag, as the weather was freezing at this time of winter. We got into the car, and I looked at the house as if I was saying goodbye to a part of my body that carries my memories, dreams and years of fatigue.
He wrote later that month, after a dangerous six-mile walk to his home from his tent in Al Mawasi to retrieve some goods, expressing after witnessing the damage that he felt "upside down and cried a lot." He trudged back carrying a 60-pound propane tank, knowing that at any second, Israeli forces could kill him.
Due to Israeli evacuation orders, Hammam's family has been displaced seven times since Oct. 7, 2023, back and forth from their home in Khan Yunis—which Hammam has tried to repair several times from damage due to bombardments—to the Al Mawasi tent camp near the sea to the south. They have lived there continuously for the last six months.
Although these fathers regularly consult with their wives and children on important decisions, they feel that the responsibility falls on them.
- Brian K. Barber
Rounds from Israeli tanks damaged Khalil's apartment in Gaza City multiple times. Like Hammam, his family has moved many times, mostly to Al Mawasi. After scraping together money and materials, Khalil repaired some of the damage to their apartment to be in closer proximity to hospitals to care for Mohammed. Responding to commands from the Israeli forces for all Gazans to leave the city, Khalil and his family left their apartment on Sep. 15, 2025, for an unfinished basement in Nuseirat, where they had stayed before.
Like the other fathers and most others in Gaza, Hussam has moved several times. Before the strike that killed Mai's family, Israeli bombardments damaged the home that he and Mai had saved for their entire married lives to build in 2021, forcing them to relocate multiple times between Rafah, Al Mawasi and Hussam's parents' home in Nuseirat camp.
Protect and Provide
As such, the overriding concern of these fathers since the beginning of the catastrophe has been to protect and provide for their children. All of them repeatedly talk about the need to provide food, clothes, shelter and other needs, and they've expressed this responsibility over months with increasing fear, anxiety, helplessness and shame that they are not succeeding.
In October 2023, Hussam wrote me that the "survival of the family—those beloved persons—obsesses my thoughts and feelings." In February 2024, he said, "We feel our kids are in real danger all the time and there is no safe place in Gaza. The worst ever is that we are helpless with all this cruelty."
"I see the whole world through my three children," wrote Khalil in March 2024, "and, therefore, I always think about how I can provide the conditions that help them achieve their ambitions and dreams." Later that month, he added, "I see my kids, one after one, suffer from pain, and I feel very weak."
Hammam thinks about his four children constantly, wanting to protect them, "provide some comfort and rest," and assure a future for them. In April 2024, he wrote, "I can live in any circumstances and in any place, but I must protect my children. In October that year, he wrote that "fear for my children's lives is killing me."
A particular focus of these fathers' concern is the education of their children. In October 2023, Hussam wrote, "What grieves me is the fact that some students will not make it to pursue their education and work on conceptions of a better life because they will be sacrificed by the ongoing Israeli genocide against Palestinians."
Prior to May 2024, there was some hope of getting out of Gaza. We started GoFundMe campaigns. The fathers insisted that we title and focus the campaigns not on their survival, but on assuring the future education of the children. We were unable to raise enough money—$5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child, extorted by an Egyptian travel agency that had been given full control of the exit—before the Israeli forces destroyed the south's Rafah crossing in May 2024 and forbade any exit, but for a few exceptions.
On March 19, 2025, Khalil wrote, "I really suffer from a lack of money to face the difficult circumstances of life, especially so that my children can find what strengthens them to continue their lives and complete their studies."
Decision Making
These struggles have added immense pressure on the three fathers, especially when it comes to issues of life and death. Although they regularly consult with their wives and children on important decisions, they feel that the responsibility falls on them. For example, on Jan. 10, 2024, Hussam wrote about his "tormenting bewilderment" and the "gnawing fear" of having to make a decision that puts his family at risk. He wrote further:
One is never certain about his or her decision nowadays. The decision can really be fatal…as fatal as choosing between two cups, one filled with water and the other with a deadly poison.
Some of the most vexing decision points have been whether to leave or stay in their home. Hussam continued:
Should we stick to our homes or follow displacement orders? Which part is the safest place to stay at home: the staircase or another room, which one?
At that moment, the family had moved to Rafah, first to live with a relative and later with a friend. But where next? Hussam wrote:
To go back to Nuseirat or to stay in Rafah, or just go for an interval period in Deir El-Balah, and then to Nuseirat? Where will Israel attack next? Nuseirat, Deir El-Balah or Rafah?
Once their own home was bombed, Hussam and his family stayed at his parents' home in Nuseirat. He wrote:
You know, the decision to go back home after the first displacement to check if it was OK was probably one of the most endangering decisions I have ever taken. I went back several times, sometimes with Mai, with the whole family or with one or more of the kids. Drones or aircraft could simply target us for being there.
The same decisions applied to finding food: where to go and whether to do it alone, with Mai or with one or more of the kids. By May 2025, all three fathers were spending every waking hour searching for food. Finally, Hussam said:
Then, we have to do the purchasing task as quickly as possible because staying longer than expected could be dangerous… Every normal life decision is fatal now.
Reconciling with Death
Those concerns stem from the reality that every Palestinian in Gaza—and increasingly so in the West Bank—is aware of: The IDF could kill them at any second and for any arbitrary reason. Whether in their homes ahead of an IDF warning to leave within minutes, or in the streets where fighter jets, tanks, naval vessels, drones, quadcopters or snipers can target them directly, the continuous risk is abundant.
On Sept. 3, 2025, in explaining his thoughts on this painful reality, Khalil wrote, in part:
Death never leaves my mind; instead, it invades my time, disrupts my stillness and forces me to imagine its possible scenarios, as if I am being compelled to live through my end before it arrives…[but] I want to remain here because I want to see my eldest daughter, Nour, achieve her dream of becoming a Palestinian diplomat representing her country…I want to live to see my beloved son Mohammed recover from the painful injury that has left him unable to walk for over three months. I miss seeing him standing tall, walking confidently as he always did, moving lightly and laughing deeply…I also long to continue enjoying the brilliance of my youngest daughter, Nesma, who just graduated with the highest honors from the Faculty of Engineering, majoring in Computer Systems and Software. I want to survive, not to escape the end, but because I believe my mission is not yet over. This life, despite all its pain, is still worth living as long as there are people we love and people that are counting on us.
Sept. 14, 2025, was a "black day" for Hammam. He received the news he had feared for months: Israeli forces had destroyed his home in Khan Yunis. He moved his family into an empty classroom in the ruins of a nearby school, not wishing for family to endure another winter in the tent.
On the same day, Khalil received the evacuation notice for his sector of Gaza City. What was normally a 20-minute drive to Nuseirat in the middle of the strip, where he would again stay in the unfinished basement of a house, took 12 hours because of the traffic. He had to pay $2,000 to rent a truck to carry their goods, alongside a car large enough to transport his family and accommodate Mohammed's leg, which is still in a cast.
Hussam remains at his parents' home in Nuseirat camp.
All three families are in or near Nuseirat. No one knows when the Israeli onslaught will destroy that area as well. Without serious international action, that outcome feels all but certain—a tragedy of unspeakable and unacceptable proportions.
