video
writing
Tatreez
Lujayn
Oct 5, 2025
Translated from the Arabic by Rebecca Ruth Gould
From the age of seven, I would hold my doll and make dresses for her. I started by drawing the designs, and my mother would help me cut the fabric while I stitched it together. I felt so much joy in sewing that I decided to pursue fashion design alongside computer programming and mathematics, which has always been my favorite subject. I dreamed of a future in which I would practice math and create new clothing at the same time.
As I grew older and entered high school, I started taking programming and robotics courses. I excelled, often ranking as the top student. When the time for my project presentation approached, I decided to join a fashion design course. I couldn’t wait to learn. But then the war came. My dreams were postponed indefinitely, tied to the end of the conflict and the hope that we would survive.
During the months of displacement, when my family took refuge in al- Bureij Camp, I met a distant relative of my mother. She was the spark that revived my delayed dream. This remarkable woman, Umm Aide, was a primary school teacher at an UNRWA school. She clung to the hope of one day returning to her hometown. We stayed in her home for five days until we found a nearby place to live. It was only later that we learned her youngest son, Aide, had been killed in the first month of the war while buying bread for his family. Despite her grief, she supported us, even helping us search for shelter.
When Umm Aide learned about my love for design, she offered to teach me the Palestinian art of embroidery, tatreez. For me, it was a beautiful opportunity to stay connected to my passion while my world was being torn apart. I began learning from her, determined to master the craft. I decided my first embroidery would be a gift for my dear uncle, who had been a constant source of support, protection, and love. It was a ship at sea, corresponding to my uncle’s vocation.
While I was learning tatreez, the most devastating news reached us. Umm Aide’s second son, Jameel, had been killed by shrapnel while browsing the internet in his family home. The news was a crushing blow to all of us, but how much more for his mother? Days passed heavy with grief for everyone.
Still, I managed to complete a small embroidery for my uncle. I created another for my beloved angel sister, Rebecca, who embraced all my writings and became my muse and guide. I crafted a small gift for my hero Brenda (Rebecca’s mother), and her beautiful family in the United States. I was thrilled to make something special for my friend Jack, my editor at The Nation. Jack always believed in and supported me by helping to make my voice heard by readers around the world.
Of particular importance to me are the bookmarks I created for my uncle and for Rebecca, depicting a lighthouse. My uncle spoke to me often about the sea and taught me about navigation and ships. He taught me what lighthouses mean to the people of the sea as they guide them to safe waters away from danger, and how navigators use lighthouses as a point of reference when they are going to port. I remember everything he told me about the lighthouses. My uncle and Rebecca represent to me what lighthouses are to navigators.
Now, I am working on a new embroidery, in which the names of Umm Aide’s two martyr sons are stitched. I plan to gift it to her as a gesture of solidarity and gratitude for the light she brought into my life during the war. Even in the depths of her pain, Umm Aide never hesitated to share her knowledge, tools, and threads with me.
We are a people whose dreams soar high, even when death surrounds us. If we survive, we will pursue our dreams, even if just a little at a time. My dream is to complete my education, which I am currently pursuing online through a program in the West Bank, despite the challenges of accessing the internet.
I continue to embroider. One day, I hope to create designs that carry the Palestinian spirit to the world.
We are a people who, as our great poet Mahmoud Darwish has said, “love life if we find a way to it.”
My beautiful friends around the world, I love you all.
Lujayn
Gaza, Palestine
November 18, 2024
Lujayn is a 15-year-old Palestinian writer and embroiderer based in Gaza. Her work has appeared in The Nation, Al Jazeera, and New Lines. She is currently pursuing her high school education online.
Rebecca Ruth Gould’s most recent book is Erasing Palestine: Free Speech and Palestinian Freedom (2023). Together with colleagues from Gaza, she founded The Lighthouse Collective to translate writing from Gaza. Her newsletter is called The Textual Materialist (rgould.substack.com).
Translated from the Arabic by Rebecca Ruth Gould
From the age of seven, I would hold my doll and make dresses for her. I started by drawing the designs, and my mother would help me cut the fabric while I stitched it together. I felt so much joy in sewing that I decided to pursue fashion design alongside computer programming and mathematics, which has always been my favorite subject. I dreamed of a future in which I would practice math and create new clothing at the same time.
As I grew older and entered high school, I started taking programming and robotics courses. I excelled, often ranking as the top student. When the time for my project presentation approached, I decided to join a fashion design course. I couldn’t wait to learn. But then the war came. My dreams were postponed indefinitely, tied to the end of the conflict and the hope that we would survive.
During the months of displacement, when my family took refuge in al- Bureij Camp, I met a distant relative of my mother. She was the spark that revived my delayed dream. This remarkable woman, Umm Aide, was a primary school teacher at an UNRWA school. She clung to the hope of one day returning to her hometown. We stayed in her home for five days until we found a nearby place to live. It was only later that we learned her youngest son, Aide, had been killed in the first month of the war while buying bread for his family. Despite her grief, she supported us, even helping us search for shelter.
When Umm Aide learned about my love for design, she offered to teach me the Palestinian art of embroidery, tatreez. For me, it was a beautiful opportunity to stay connected to my passion while my world was being torn apart. I began learning from her, determined to master the craft. I decided my first embroidery would be a gift for my dear uncle, who had been a constant source of support, protection, and love. It was a ship at sea, corresponding to my uncle’s vocation.
While I was learning tatreez, the most devastating news reached us. Umm Aide’s second son, Jameel, had been killed by shrapnel while browsing the internet in his family home. The news was a crushing blow to all of us, but how much more for his mother? Days passed heavy with grief for everyone.
Still, I managed to complete a small embroidery for my uncle. I created another for my beloved angel sister, Rebecca, who embraced all my writings and became my muse and guide. I crafted a small gift for my hero Brenda (Rebecca’s mother), and her beautiful family in the United States. I was thrilled to make something special for my friend Jack, my editor at The Nation. Jack always believed in and supported me by helping to make my voice heard by readers around the world.
Of particular importance to me are the bookmarks I created for my uncle and for Rebecca, depicting a lighthouse. My uncle spoke to me often about the sea and taught me about navigation and ships. He taught me what lighthouses mean to the people of the sea as they guide them to safe waters away from danger, and how navigators use lighthouses as a point of reference when they are going to port. I remember everything he told me about the lighthouses. My uncle and Rebecca represent to me what lighthouses are to navigators.
Now, I am working on a new embroidery, in which the names of Umm Aide’s two martyr sons are stitched. I plan to gift it to her as a gesture of solidarity and gratitude for the light she brought into my life during the war. Even in the depths of her pain, Umm Aide never hesitated to share her knowledge, tools, and threads with me.
We are a people whose dreams soar high, even when death surrounds us. If we survive, we will pursue our dreams, even if just a little at a time. My dream is to complete my education, which I am currently pursuing online through a program in the West Bank, despite the challenges of accessing the internet.
I continue to embroider. One day, I hope to create designs that carry the Palestinian spirit to the world.
We are a people who, as our great poet Mahmoud Darwish has said, “love life if we find a way to it.”
My beautiful friends around the world, I love you all.
Lujayn
Gaza, Palestine
November 18, 2024
Lujayn is a 15-year-old Palestinian writer and embroiderer based in Gaza. Her work has appeared in The Nation, Al Jazeera, and New Lines. She is currently pursuing her high school education online.
Rebecca Ruth Gould’s most recent book is Erasing Palestine: Free Speech and Palestinian Freedom (2023). Together with colleagues from Gaza, she founded The Lighthouse Collective to translate writing from Gaza. Her newsletter is called The Textual Materialist (rgould.substack.com).
