We Are Not Numbers

A new cohort begins at a time when continuing anything at all takes effort.

This program isn’t just about writing, it’s about creating space for voices to develop, connect, and be heard, whether from Gaza or across the diaspora. Different backgrounds, different starting points, but a shared commitment to telling stories with meaning.

For many, it’s a first step. For others, it’s a continuation. Either way, the work moves forward.

In “What Israel allows into the Gaza Strip,” Khaled Al-Qershali examines a reality shaped by imbalance.

After more than two years of severe shortages, limited goods were permitted into Gaza following the October 2025 agreement. But while life-saving medicine and basic necessities remained scarce, other items, like smartphones and luxury goods, appeared in noticeable quantities.

This story highlights the contrast between what is permitted and what is needed, and how that gap continues to affect ordinary families.

Co-published with Washington Report on Middle East Affairs.

Read the full story.

https://wearenotnumbers.org/what-israel-allows-into-the-gaza-strip/

Behind every application is a story.

From first introductions to thoughtful reflections, these moments capture a small glimpse of the voices stepping into the next WANN cohort 2026, writers ready to share, challenge, and document what matters.

This is where it begins. ✍🏽
Stay tuned.

April 17 is a day of remembrance, but also a day that asks us to sit with what absence means.

It’s felt in the empty seat, the paused plans, the conversations that never finished.

Some stories are still unfolding, just out of sight.

In “Unspoken Goodbyes,” Yusuf El-Mbayed wrote about loss that arrived without farewell.

Through photos saved on his phone, he revisited moments with his cousins, late nights filled with laughter, shared meals, and small routines that once made life feel whole. These images became more than memories; they became the only place where those moments still exist.

Mohammed, Saleem, and Rami were not only family, they were companions in survival. They were killed before Yusuf could see them again.

Now, Yusuf returns to their photos, holding onto what remains: laughter frozen in time, memories that refuse to fade, and words he never had the chance to say.

Read the full story — link in bio.

https://wearenotnumbers.org/unspoken-goodbyes/

With recent developments and growing concerns around policies impacting Palestinian prisoners,
it’s important to pause and listen to the voices behind the headlines.

These are stories of prisoners, their families, detention, separation, and resilience, told by those who have lived it, or continue to live through it.

In moments like this, context matters.
So do stories.

In “Land Day Remembrance: What Happened in Barbara Happened in Jabalia,” Ohood Nassar reflected on how displacement is not just history, it is inheritance.

On Land Day, she remembered her grandfather, who was forced from his village of Barbara in 1948, carrying with him memories of land, trees, and a home he believed he would return to the next day.

He never did.

Land Day, once a day of remembrance, became something else. It became personal. It became present.

This is not only a story about loss, but about continuity, of memory, of belonging, and of a hope that refuses to disappear, even across generations.

Read the full story

https://wearenotnumbers.org/land-day-remembrance-what-happened-in-barbara-happened-in-jabalia/

In A Surprise Graduation Party for Lina, Nada Abdel Karim Hamdona wrote about creating joy when almost nothing was available.

She told the story of her cousin Lina, who completed five demanding years at the Faculty of Pharmacy at Al-Azhar University—only to realize that even a graduation gown was out of reach during war. With campuses destroyed and resources scarce, Lina chose silence over celebration, carrying her disappointment quietly.

This story reminded us that even in the middle of devastation, people still make space for milestones. That joy does not disappear, it adapts, survives, and finds its way back through care, memory, and love.

Read the full story — link in bio.

In A Soul Burning With Hope, Soha Diab wrote about her nephew Ahmed Abu Hasira, a man who carried his dreams across borders, only to have them cut short by war.

This story traced Ahmed’s final days, from refusing to flee his home alone, to being injured and hospitalized at Al-Shifa Medical Complex, where he lost both legs and, days later, his life. He died far from his family, listening to his children’s voices through a phone, holding onto hope until his last breath.

This piece is about exile, love, and the cruelty of interrupted futures. About a father who became a memory before he could become a presence again, and about children left asking questions no one can answer.

Read the full story — link in bio.

https://wearenotnumbers.org/a-soul-burning-with-hope/

In Rashad Al-Shawa Center Holds Memories but Also Dreams for the Future, Ohood Nassar reflected on a cultural landmark that carried Gaza’s past—and its will to rebuild.

She wrote about growing up visiting Rashad Al-Shawa Cultural Center—a place of poetry, theater, music, and imagination. It was where students gathered, where voices were heard, and where a generation learned to love art and language. Years later, that same center became a shelter for displaced families, then rubble, and finally a landscape of tents.

This piece is about memory and continuity. About a place that was damaged, but not erased. And about a belief that even when cultural spaces are destroyed, the ideas they hold survive—and will one day be rebuilt.

Read the full story — link in bio.

https://wearenotnumbers.org/rashad-al-shawa-center-holds-memories-but-also-dreams-for-the-future/