The physical landscape of Gaza has been fundamentally transformed into a geography of loss, where entire municipalities and historic neighborhoods have been ground into dust. Streets that once served as the arteries of daily life, lined with homes and businesses, now serve only as pathways through endless ruins. Within this landscape of skeletal buildings and pulverized concrete, a profound human crisis is unfolding—one that is defined by the experiences of women and girls who have become the reluctant pillars of a fractured society. To walk through Gaza today is to witness the erasure of the familiar, yet it is also to encounter a demographic that, despite being pushed to the absolute brink of human endurance, continues to provide the final line of defense against total social collapse.
In the makeshift classrooms of schools-turned-shelters, in the cramped confines of plastic tents, and amidst the dangerous wreckage of their former homes, the women of Gaza are navigating a reality that defies conventional description. While the world often views the conflict through the lens of geopolitics or military strategy, the lived experience of these women is one of profound, daily attrition. To be a woman in Gaza in late 2025 is to exist in a state of perpetual hyper-vigilance, absorbing the collective trauma of a nation while simultaneously shielding the next generation from the biting cold and the ever-present threat of violence.
The current atmosphere is characterized by a fragile and deceptive ceasefire. For the women on the ground, the cessation of major aerial bombardments does not equate to the arrival of peace. They describe a "psychological war" that persists even when the sirens are silent. While the frequency of large-scale attacks may have diminished, the "killing" continues in more insidious ways: through the lack of medicine, the scarcity of clean water, and the crushing weight of grief. Almost every woman in the territory has become a mourner, with many having lost at least two immediate family members—children, siblings, or parents—leaving behind a void that no political agreement can fill.
The environmental conditions have only exacerbated this suffering. Following a recent weekend of torrential rain and plummeting temperatures, the vulnerability of the displaced population reached a critical point. In the sprawling tent cities that now define the Gazan horizon, mothers have watched helplessly as rainwater seeped through makeshift fabric walls, leaving their children to shiver through the night without adequate blankets or heating. This is the recurring nightmare of the Gazan mother: the realization that winter is an approaching enemy she is ill-equipped to fight, and that the simple act of keeping a child warm has become an impossible luxury.
Displacement has become a repetitive, soul-crushing cycle. The statistics are staggering, but the individual stories are even more so. One woman recounted being forced to move 35 times over the course of the conflict, each time packing the meager remnants of her life, gathering her children and elderly parents, and trekking toward a destination that offered no more safety than the one she left behind. Every move is a life-or-death calculation made in a vacuum of information, where the choice is often between one unsafe ruin and another.
The demographic shift caused by the war has placed an unprecedented burden on the female population. Current estimates suggest that more than 57,000 women now find themselves as the heads of their households. These women are tasked with rebuilding their lives from scratch in an economy that has essentially ceased to function. Even with the current ceasefire, the cost of living has spiraled out of control; basic food items are now four times more expensive than they were prior to the escalation, making nutrition an unattainable goal for those with no source of income.
The ingenuity required for survival is born of desperation. In one instance, a woman whose home was leveled returns to the site of her former life every morning. She does not go there to mourn, but to work. She scavenges for wood among the debris, literally burning the wooden doors that once sheltered her family to create a small fire so she can cook breakfast for her children. It is a haunting image of the conflict: the domestic sanctuary being consumed as fuel just to sustain life for another day.
Beyond the immediate needs of food and shelter, a secondary crisis is emerging—one that will haunt Gaza for decades. The relentless violence has created a new generation of women and girls living with permanent disabilities. Data indicates that over 12,000 women and girls are now grappling with long-term, war-related physical impairments that did not exist two years ago. These are not just statistics; they are lives interrupted. A 13-year-old girl, who lost her leg in a bombing that also claimed the lives of her father and four brothers, has spent months waiting for a wheelchair. Her story is emblematic of a broader tragedy where the future of Gaza’s youth has been physically and emotionally shattered.
Despite this overwhelming adversity, the women of Gaza are not merely passive recipients of aid; they are active agents of change and the primary drivers of community resilience. When asked what they need, their requests are clear and practical: they need the ceasefire to hold permanently, they need food security, cash assistance, and supplies to survive the winter. They are calling for health services and vital psychosocial support to address the deep-seated trauma of the past years. But perhaps most tellingly, they are asking for the restoration of their dignity. They want their children back in school, and they want the opportunity to work and lead.
The desire to participate in the reconstruction of their society is a common thread among the survivors. There is a fierce determination to rebuild Gaza with their own hands. This spirit is visible in the woman who, despite having family members buried under the rubble of her home, opened a community oven across the street. By charging a nominal fee to cook for others, she provides a vital service to her neighbors while staring directly at the remains of her former life. Such acts are the ultimate testament to the power and will of Gaza’s women.
UN Women, which has maintained a presence in Gaza for over a decade, continues to emphasize that investing in this female leadership is the only viable path toward long-term recovery. By working hand-in-hand with women-led civil society organizations, the goal is to move beyond emergency relief and toward a future where women are the architects of their own restoration. The organization remains committed to standing with these women today so they can lead Gaza’s recovery tomorrow, but the scale of the challenge requires a global response.
The current situation should serve as a moral imperative for the international community. No woman or girl should be forced to exert such Herculean effort simply to survive. The requirements for a sustainable future are clear: aid must enter Gaza systematically and safely, the killing must stop, and the ceasefire must transition into a lasting peace. To be a woman in Gaza today is to hold the line between life and total loss with nothing but courage and exhausted hands. It is a burden that no one should carry alone, and it is a reality that the world cannot afford to ignore for a single day longer. The resilience of these women is a light in the darkness, but it is a light that requires the fuel of global solidarity and justice to keep burning.
