Below is an article I have written for the Inter Press Service on "growing up as a girl in Gaza." At the conclusion, I have added some personal thoughts that didn't make it into this word-limited article.

To talk to girls growing up in Gaza is to encounter a mass of contradictions. On the one hand, Gaza is a deeply conservative, patriarchal society where girls marry relatively young (the average age was 18 in 2006), usually to men identified – or at least approved – by their parents. A woman’s place is generally accepted to be in the home, caring for her husband and children (an average of 6.5).   

On the other hand, there also is a growing and vibrant diversity of spirit and ambition among the girls of Gaza. Take 14-year-old Assala, for example.  She lives in a relatively poor section of Gaza City and attends an UNRWA school from 12 to 4 p.m.  Because the school buildings – many of which were decimated by the Israeli invasion last year -- are overcrowded (the average class size is 45), students often must meet in shifts for half days only. Assala has four brothers and a sister; her mother and father were just 14 and 18 when they married. However, Assala knows her mother secretly wished she had attended university (in fact, her mother still hopes to enroll, to study religion) and that has become her dream as well. 

“I am trying to do the best I can do in school now so that I can study art in university,” Assala says through an interpreter, adding that she hopes to continue her studies in Jordan, where her uncle’s family lives. 

There are plenty of young girls in Gaza – still the majority – who will continue the tradition of marrying young and spending most of their days confined to the home with the other women in their extended family.  2008 census data indicate that just 16 percent of Gazan women participate in the labor force. However, that is changing. In that same year, the percentage of women who were economically active grew 10 percent. That trend is reflected in the aspirations of many of the girls attending UNRWA and private schools in Gaza.

Nour, another 14-year-old attending a different UNRWA school in Gaza City, grew to love journalism through her older sister, who works at a radio station. Nour helps announce programs on the weekends, and now wants to become a journalist herself. She wants to wait until her mid 20s to get married, and have just two children so she and her husband can afford to give them the best life possible.  Her classmate Tasneem, also 14, wants to follow in the footsteps of her mother and father (both physicians) and study medicine as well – a common aspiration voiced by the better students in Gaza.  She wants to become a dentist, and spends her own time on the weekend improving her English at AmidEast (America-Mideast Educational and Training Services). 

 
Me and "my girls" at an UNRWA school in Gaza City. 

Nour and Tasneem share something else in common with Assala – a love for artistic pursuits. Nour has been playing the piano for two years and Tasneem loves acting, singing and poetry. In fact, one of her dreams is to record her songs on an album. However, unlike Assala, both Nour and Tasneem are resigned to giving up their artistic activities once they have finished school. “I will have to give up those hobbies once I get older,” says Tasneem. “When I am older, it will be time to get serious about helping my family earn a living, and then later to take care of my own family.” 

A strong commitment to their families and community is a common theme among even the youngest girls in Gaza. Although some talk of escaping someplace else permanently -- like 9-year-old Nadia who wants to live in Turkey because of a movie she saw and 14-year-old Bayan who wants to move to America and become a famous singer like Michael Jackson – most are like Rana, 12.

Me and "my girls" (as I came to call them all) at the American International School

A student at the American International School, now housed in a cramped, rented 300-square-foot facility after its expansive campus funded by the United States was bombed during the Israeli incursion last year, she dreams of visiting Jordan and Egypt – maybe even climbing the Eiffel Tower in Paris. But Rana is firm in her conviction that she wants to remain with her family in Gaza after she gets a degree in engineering. Despite the frequent attacks by Israeli forces and the tight blockade that prevents her family from taking her to visit those places of which she dreams, “this is my home, and I never want to leave forever,” she says simply.

Nour, Tasneem, Rana and Assala are like girls around the world in many respects. They love chatting with friends online, playing dodgeball and reading adventure novels. (Shopping is a bit difficult in Gaza; there are no malls and money is in scarce supply.) However, one aspiration sets them apart: When asked what they would want if given three wishes, all of the girls interviewed from Gaza responded with “peace and freedom” – for their country, and their families. So young, and yet so old and wise.

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There are several big differences in culture in the "world of women" here, compared to the norm in America.  One is the value placed on the extended family, and a respect for elders (particularly parents). I admire that..the U.S. has lost a bit of that familial loyalty and connection I think.  On the other hand, I am not so sure -- in my Western way of thinking -- that it is always good. When talking to the sister of my host "brother," she told me of her love for English, a course she has had to take in Gaza because her grades weren't good enough for medicine. However, her parents continue to seek an opportunity for her to study medicine abroad. When I asked her what she enjoys the most, she answered that she wants to please her parents. What she wants and what her parents want are one and the same to her. I heard the same theme from all of the girls with whom I have talked here...Even Assala in the story above said she wanted to go to university because she wanted to "make good" her mother's lost dream.

 Due to the conservative Islamic culture here, women are not allowed to mix with men outside their immediate family, unless they are engaged. (There is no "dating" per se. Once a girl and boy are engaged, they can then spend time together, within limits. However, it's not as "forced" as it sounds. If they decide they are not a good match, they can break the engagement.) When outside the home, "mature" girls cover their heads with a hijab and wear a jelbab (long coat). However, inside, or when only with other women, they "let their hair down," so to speak. I attended a reception the night before a wedding here, and the women really strutted their stuff. They dressed to the nines, often in clothing even Westerners would consider revealing (including the bride!), and danced in the most sensual fashion I have ever seen (an adaptation of belly dancing) -- no matter what their age. It was beautiful, and exciting, to behold. You think Muslim women are repressed? There is a spirit of joy beneath all the covering! (Unfortunately, I was not allowed to take pictures.)

What I found most interesting was the story of the bride and groom. Most marriages here are still somewhat "arranged" by the families, and the girls in particular are fairly young. However, the bride in this case was 31, and was supporting herself through her very professional artwork (remember my comment in the story above about art). She had been born with a defect -- one leg shorter than the other -- so it seemed she had been allowed a bit more independence (not as "marriageable"). However, when she broke her leg recently, she was nursed back to health by a cousin (an RN), who proceeded to fall in love with her. He is five years younger than her -- a true rarity here in Gaza, where the norm of older male-younger female is even stronger than in the West. The young man had to convince her he would not regret his choice, but she finally gave in. Love can bloom anywhere! Their joy at being together was a privilege to witness. (The groom was the only male allowed to enter the room, at the end of the evening.) 

More than anything, however, I have found I share more than I differ from the women of Gaza. They are truly my sisters.