Carrying the Torch from Shireen Abu Akleh
Nour Abo Aisha
The killing of journalist Shireen Abu Akleh was meant to silence Palestinians, but instead, it spurred many to speak out. A young Palestinian writer reflects on how Abu Akleh's death inspired her to become a journalist, documenting the genocide in Gaza. Despite continued attacks on media workers, a new generation carries the torch forward, refusing to be silenced.
Shireen Abu Akleh was one of the most prominent Palestinian journalists, woven into the childhood memories of many. She began covering key events before I was born, documenting the Second Intifada and the 2002 Battle of Jenin. In 2005, she became the first Arab journalist to enter Ashqelon Prison to interview Palestinian prisoners.
I still vividly remember Shireen's voice during the 2014 Gaza war when I was just 12. Every hour, I sat in front of the TV waiting for her reports. Though her voice carried the pain of what was happening in Gaza, her presence on screen conveyed hope and resilience. She was loved and respected by all Palestinians, regardless of faith or political views.
On May 11, 2022, news of Shireen's killing came as a shock. Footage showed her lying on the ground, journalist Shatha Hanaysha beside her, and someone behind the camera desperately calling for help. Israeli gunfire hindered rescue efforts, leaving Shireen to bleed to death. The daytime assassination of a top Palestinian journalist was not only a shocking crime but also a harbinger of what was to come.
A year and a half later, Israel launched a systematic campaign targeting Palestinian journalists in Gaza. To date, at least 260 media workers have been killed. Israel is now regarded as the world's 'biggest killer of journalists.'
However, the assassinations of Shireen and other journalists like Anas al-Sharif, Fadi al-Wahidi, and Mariam Abu Daqqa have not had the silencing effect Israel hoped. Instead, the deaths of these heroes have spurred young people to pick up cameras, microphones, and pens to continue the work. I am one of them. Shireen's death profoundly changed me.
At the time, I was an English literature student, immersed in the power of language and storytelling. But Shireen's death shifted my focus from fiction to the real world. I realized that literature preserves culture, while journalism defends the truth of the present. I didn't just want to write; I wanted to be a reporter, to bear witness. I wanted to be like Shireen.
As a resident of Gaza City, I became an eyewitness to the horrors raining down on the north. I survived multiple Israeli attacks and was forced to flee with my family. I began documenting the genocide in my diary. I often thought of Shireen and wondered what she would say about atrocities beyond imagination. I know she looks down at us and weeps.
But then I remembered her words: 'I chose journalism to be close to people. It may not be easy to change reality, but at least I can bring that voice to the world.' This is her hidden message to youth like me: being a journalist means speaking out even when the world doesn't want to listen.
I started writing about the situation in northern Gaza, where I lived through multiple sieges and famine. Due to prolonged internet blackouts, I couldn't contact the outside world. Eventually, after a temporary ceasefire in January 2025, some connectivity was restored. I published my first article, titled 'Surviving the War in Northern Gaza,' documenting the harrowing, untold details of life and death I witnessed. My family feared I too could become a target.
Still, I continue to write even as Israel kills journalists every week, even as the world fails to act to stop it. Today we have a 'ceasefire,' but the killing of journalists hasn't ended. Just last month, Israel killed Mohammed Wishah, a journalist for Al Jazeera Mubasher. Yet many of us young people persist in writing, recording, and screaming through words against horror and injustice. We have taken up the torch from Shireen and carry it forward. Palestine will not be silenced.