I Would Not Have Survived Without UNRWA

During the genocidal war on Gaza, UNRWA, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees, was a critical resource that distributed meals, blankets, and supplies to millions of people. For many, it was the only thing standing between them and starvation. Without UNRWA, our livelihood would have been unimaginable.

Now, with Israel’s new law banning its activities in Gaza, East Jerusalem, and the West Bank, more than two million people are at risk of losing access to food, healthcare, and education. The United Nations has warned that famine is imminent. How can humanitarian aid be politicized when lives are at stake?

This isn’t just a political issue; it’s a personal one. In fact, I wouldn’t be here without UNRWA.

During the Nakba of 1948, my great-grandparents were expelled by Zionist militias from their village of Dayr Sunayd, just 12 kilometers from Gaza City. Like hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, they were forced into exile, stripped of their land and properties, and of the right to return under Israel’s Absentees’ Property Law. The home they once knew was erased, leaving only the memory of a place they could no longer reach.

In response to this mass displacement, the United Nations established UNRWA in 1949. Originally intended as a temporary relief agency, it quickly became the cornerstone of aid for Palestinian refugees. Over time, its role expanded, providing essential services and evolving into the leading source of relief for millions of displaced Palestinians across the Middle East.

My father was born into this reality, growing up in the Jabalia refugee camp amidst deep poverty. At just two years old, the 1967 Naksa further reshaped his life. His father — my grandfather — was trapped in Egypt after the war and was unable to return to Gaza. The Israeli military occupation left thousands of Palestinians, including my grandfather, without identification documents and the right to reunite with their families. My father would meet his father only once in his lifetime.

Like countless other refugees, my father’s survival depended entirely on UNRWA, which provided his family with food, clothing, education, and healthcare in the absence of stable income. Despite these hardships, my father excelled academically, becoming one of the top students in his school. He earned a scholarship to study mathematics in the West Bank and later dedicated over 35 years of his life to teaching. His mother and grandfather, though illiterate, supported his aspirations, recognizing that education was the key to a future they had long been denied.

Without UNRWA, none of this would have been possible. It provided my father with the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty, and in turn, it changed my life as well. I studied in UNRWA schools, where I worked hard to excel and gained the tools to assert my rights in a world that often seeks to silence voices like mine.

UNRWA Is More Than Just Aid

Growing up in Tel al-Zaatar, a modernized neighborhood within Jabalia refugee camp, I attended school with classmates from low-income families. I remember a teacher asking about our fathers’ jobs, and many of my peers responded that their fathers had none. Those from more stable households often had caregivers employed by UNRWA. This scenario was typical in Gaza, where Israel’s occupation policies have created a cycle of hardship that is exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to break.

Since 1967, Gaza has faced continuous economic crises, worsened by the blockade that began in 2007. Restrictions on imports, exports, and movement have stifled growth, leaving many families unemployed. Prior to the most recent genocidal war, Gaza’s unemployment rate was around 45%, with youth unemployment nearing 60%. The war only intensified this crisis, pushing unemployment to nearly 80% and shrinking the economy to less than one-sixth of its prewar size. In this dire situation, UNRWA became far more than a relief agency; it served as an economic lifeline, providing employment to thousands and helping to sustain the entire community.

For Palestinian refugees, who constitute nearly 70% of Gaza’s population, UNRWA has been indispensable, offering critical services such as education, healthcare, and food. As the sole agency delivering this comprehensive support, it became an essential safety net in the absence of government services.

For students, UNRWA provided more than just academic learning. We had access to meals, summer camps, and extracurricular activities, including art lessons, field trips, science labs, and computer workshops — all free of charge. The agency also prioritized our well-being, offering healthcare services like vaccinations, medical and dental checkups, free eyeglasses and hearing aids, and uniforms for vulnerable students.

Personally, in my UNRWA school, I had the chance to watch and perform in my first play, as well as read and write short stories. I took part in my first trips to local human rights organizations, participated in my first debates, and recited my first poems in front of an audience, including the chance to learn and speak English. Through these experiences, I developed critical thinking skills and gained a deeper understanding of complex issues, including the realities of Israel’s violations. Today, I hold a master’s degree, write passionately, and engage in meaningful conversations — opportunities I would never have had without the resources that UNRWA provided.

My sister, who was also educated in UNRWA schools, is now a doctor at one of its clinics. It was not just an aid provider; it cultivated a sense of solidarity among refugees, many of whom worked for the agency. It became a symbol of Palestinian perseverance, helping to preserve our dignity and potential.

The Attack on UNRWA Is an Attack on Palestinian Existence

When Israel describes its plans to dismantle UNRWA it claims other organizations can step in and fill the same need, but they are wrong. No other group has the same deep-rooted connection to Gaza as UNRWA. Its more than 10,000 staff members — many of them refugees themselves — share our reality. Over decades, they have built deep-rooted infrastructure and trust within our communities, something no outside organization can replicate.

When I read about the attacks on the organization I think about the children in UNRWA schools, the families who rely on its clinics, and the workers who risk their lives to deliver aid under impossible conditions. Every month, thousands depend on UNRWA’s food assistance to survive. What happens to them now? What happens to us?

Meanwhile, the threats extend beyond Gaza. U.S. President Donald Trump recently suggested that he wants to “take over” the Gaza Strip and forcefully expel its people, stripping them of their rights and any hope of return. His plan may seem unhinged, but the ongoing efforts to dismantle UNRWA and render Gaza unlivable through starvation and destruction make it dangerously plausible. We have already lost so much — our homes, our land, our loved ones. Eliminating UNRWA is part of a larger strategy of erasure, as it means removing the last pillar of support and pushing millions closer into forced exile.

UNRWA’s existence is inseparable from Palestinian identity. Palestinian refugees are a people whose land was taken from them by force, and the agency stands as a testament to this historical injustice and to the international community’s responsibility towards those it displaced. Israel has continuously sought to erase this fact, working to dismantle the recognition of Palestinian rights and history. Yet, as long as UNRWA remains, so does the undeniable truth of our struggle and our demand for justice. An attack on it is an attack on all of us, and we cannot let it go unanswered.