Plestia Alaqad first came across my Instagram feed in October 2023, shortly after the genocide in Gaza had begun. She was only 21, but she became one of the most prominent journalists reporting from the ground in Gaza. In her blue press vest and helmet, Plestia posted video after video, showing the destruction and horror Israel was inflicting on her people and her homeland. She became an iconic figure in the early days of the genocide and was eventually able to leave for Australia, where her uncle lives.

Plestia, like all of the journalists in Gaza, was in the unique position of having to report on a genocide while also trying to survive it. During that time, she kept a diary, detailing the difficult and devastating first 45 days of genocide. I remember watching Plestia’s videos, in awe of her bravery and dedication to showing the world exactly what was happening. 

Now, Plestia is living in Lebanon, and I spoke to her over Zoom from New York about her new book, The Eyes of Gaza: A Diary of Resistance. The book takes readers even further behind the scenes of the horrors she witnessed, showing the incredible resolve and spirit of the Palestinian people. We see Plestia’s life change forever in these pages, as she struggles to find her place as a journalist and genocide survivor simultaneously. Her diaries are a living document of Israel’s atrocities, in a time when censorship and propaganda are on the rise. Plestia’s words and experiences will no doubt become an important part of history, and today, I can only hope that this book will help spread awareness and change so that we may one day see a free Palestine.

Deena ElGenaidi: First of all, I just want to say congratulations on the book. I’ve been following you on social media for a long time. Watching your videos when you were in Gaza is one thing, but reading about your personal, first-hand experience puts everything in a new light. How do you feel having your diary entries from that time out in the world for people to read? 

Plestia Alaqad: So you know how a diary is usually a personal thing? I’ve been writing in them for years. I remember my first diary—I got it in grade six. I used to always write, write, write, and I never wrote with the intention to publish or that other people would read it. It was very personal. I wasn’t filtering my emotions or anything. Then when I was writing during the genocide, and I survived and evacuated Gaza, I started reading my diary again, and publishing houses started approaching me. A diary is a personal thing, but this is also a story millions of people can relate to. It wasn’t my story alone, so I felt it would be selfish to not publish it.

DE: Well, thank you for publishing it. I think it’s really informative and I hope people read it and change their opinions and start doing more for Palestine. There’s a line at the beginning when you say, “I’m four Israeli aggressions old.” I thought that was a really profound way to show that this didn’t start on October 7th. You also say, “How much trauma does it take to start thinking that bombs are like rain? And how much trauma does it take to consider that funny?” And it just shows how normalized the violence coming from Israel was for everyone in Gaza. But at what moment did it become clear that this aggression was different? That it was not an aggression like the others, but a genocide? 

PA: The moment I realized it’s a genocide, not a normal Israeli aggression, is when a hospital was bombed, because I always thought that hospitals were red lines. They’re a place where injured people are getting treated. But when I saw a hospital get bombed and no one did anything about it, and now there’s barely any hospitals even functioning in Gaza, I knew that this was a genocide. This is not like anything I’ve ever experienced before. 

DE: That makes a lot of sense because, like you said, that is a red line. 

PA: Yeah, but with Israel, it seems that there aren’t really any red lines, especially right now. As we’re talking, today, Israel bombed Doha as well. In this week alone, they bombed Palestine, Tunis, Qatar, Yemen, Syria, and south of Lebanon. So what are the red lines here? And why are we living in a world where this is even allowed? I think everyone, whether you’re Palestinian or not, should feel threatened by what Israel is doing and by what the world is allowing. 

DE: You say in the book, “The most harrowing stories are left unreported,” and you briefly compare the way the media reports on Ukraine versus Gaza. As a journalist, what was it like being in Gaza and seeing how biased the media was and still is? 

PA: Honestly, journalism isn’t what I thought it really was. Growing up, I was so passionate about journalism and the media industry. I believed that the media had the power to change the world. But right now, what I’m seeing is how the media is reporting on Palestine. They only report on a Palestinian once that Palestinian is killed. Only then do they start appreciating that person. 

Like, Hind Rajab’s story, for example. We all knew Hind Rajab’s story while it was happening, while she was calling, and they were trying to save her, and no one did anything about it. But after she died, now there’s movies about her, which I don’t mind. I’m glad there is a movie and awareness about her and her story. But there are a million Hind Rajabs still stuck in Gaza. Are we waiting for them to die? Then we will start honoring them and talking about them? Even journalists like Anas [al-Sharif] and Mariam [Abu Dagga]—Israel killed them, and then the world started appreciating them and talking about them and doing interviews about them. But what about when they were alive? 

DE: That’s absolutely true. And I think it’s interesting you bring up Hind Rajab. There’s the movie about her, but I saw that her mother is still trying to get donations and flee to safety and is now worried that Israel is going to target her. So at the same time that there’s this movie, we’re still ignoring what’s happening to the people who are there. 

PA: Exactly. Her mother and her sibling are still stuck in Gaza, and they can get killed at any minute. Only then will we start talking about them, sharing posts, saying, this is Hind’s mom, showing her last message to the world, and this and that. But how about we actually try to do something and save them now? By we, I mean people in power, because I wish I had that power. But unfortunately, I don’t. 

DE: Aside from the individual stories of people that are still there now, are there other stories that you wish were reported more? 

PA: The thing is, journalists are tired because for almost two years now, they’ve been hungry while reporting on this—starving. They are losing loved ones while they are reporting about the ones grieving. So they don’t have the energy or mental capacity anymore to report about every single story, but Gaza is full of stories. The stories we see are nothing compared to the stories that we don’t actually see. 

The other day I was talking to a nine-year old, Lulu, and it never occurred to me until she told me, that she has never been to school because grade one and two was COVID. Grade three, she went for like a month or two, then there was this genocide, and she didn’t go. Now, she’s studying online, but this online studying for children doesn’t really count. 

DE: What you were saying earlier about how tired the journalists are actually leads to my next question. There’s moments in the book when you go to a location to report on something happening, but then you end up helping the people there. You mention that you’re torn between your role as a journalist and existing as a Palestinian, and I think that’s a really difficult and unique position for a journalist to be in. But it is the position that all of the journalists in Gaza are in right now, where you’re reporting on a genocide while also experiencing and living through it. How did it feel being in those two positions at once? 

PA: It’s difficult because you’re a Palestinian person reporting on Palestinian people while also living that. So a lot of times I find myself just standing between: should I be a journalist or should I be like one of them and just help them? Because I know they would help me. And in the heat of the moment, you’re just so traumatized that you can’t even think, and you just act out whatever your mind tells you. 

DE: I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. There are moments in the book when you show that people are also looking to you for answers, expecting you to know what’s going on and to have all the information. But you yourself are getting your information from regular people. So what was it like having them look to you in that way when you didn’t always have the answers? 

PA: Oh my God, I remember once my friend Yara called me, and she was like, “Plestia, my family and I just heard that a certain building got bombed.” I was like, “Yeah, okay. Are you sure? Should I post about it?” And she was like, “You’re the journalist. I’m the one asking you to make sure and see if the building got bombed or not because our friends live there.” I was like, “I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I’m literally in the middle of the street. I don’t have access to the internet, and I’m hearing a lot of sounds of bombs. But how am I supposed to know if this sound means this building got bombed or what happened?” It’s valid for people to expect journalists to know everything, but this genocide is different. 

I remember another time, we were walking in the street and wearing press gear. So an old man asked us, “What do you think? What is happening?” We said to him, “You have a radio, so you’re actually listening to the news. So you probably know more news than we do.” 

DE: There’s another line in the book where you say, “But I enjoy watching sunsets and sunrises, and I do both today, and nobody can take that away from me, not until they kill me, not even Israel.” And amidst all the horrible news coming out of Gaza, every once in a while, I’ll see hopeful moments like this. How do you hold on to that beauty and hope amidst all that’s going on? 

PA: Because hope is the only thing that Israel can’t bomb. Obviously, sometimes I feel hopeless and helpless, but other times I’m like, nothing lasts forever. The occupation won’t last forever. One day Palestine will be free, and maybe right now we’re a step closer to a free Palestine. So no matter how hopeless I get, I try to always hold on to hope. And I think that’s a very Palestinian trait to have. 

DE: I’ve seen that a lot online—a lot of Palestinians talking about how important it is to hold on to hope. It’s amazing that you’re able to do that, given everything that’s going on. 

PA: It’s true, especially with the sea and the sky—it’s the only thing that Israel can’t bomb. So watching a sunset or sunrise in Gaza feels like a win, or looking at the sky or looking at the sea. It will always be there just waving, you know? 

DE: Since leaving Gaza, what has the response from the international community and the media been like for you? And do you feel like people are listening, or opinions are starting to change? 

PA: I mean, after two years, yes, the opinions are starting to change and starting to shift, but that leaves me wondering, was it necessary for all of that to happen just for opinions to change and for the world now to be more aware of what’s happening? Like at what cost? 

DE: Especially since the violence was always happening, maybe not to this extent, but people just weren’t paying attention before. 

PA: Exactly. History didn’t start in October 2023. 

DE: Have you found that the media response has been better since leaving? 

PA: Some media responses have been better, others not. For example, it’s so funny that until today, some people call it a “conflict.” I wish it was a conflict, not a genocide, because as far as I know, in a conflict, journalists don’t get targeted, babies don’t get starved. Some media are trying to do better, but they still fail to address it as a genocide. They’re afraid to say things as they are, and calling it a genocide is the bare minimum. 

DE: What do you think is next for you, and how will you keep advocating for Palestine? 

PA: I genuinely just hope the genocide will stop because it’s hard to even comprehend or understand what’s happening, or to plan your life, or move on with your life, or know what you want to do next, while your people, your friends and family, are stuck in Gaza. They’re starving, and they might get killed any minute. 

Being born and raised in Gaza, it was always hard to plan because no matter how hard you try to plan for your day, Israel will always have another plan. On October 6th, I was out with my friend, and we were sitting at a beautiful restaurant called La Villa. It’s a bit high, so when you sit there, you see the skyline of Gaza. So we were sitting there eating pizza and hot chocolate—I don’t know about this combo, but we felt like it—and we had our laptops open, saying, let’s apply for scholarships, let’s do this, let’s do that. The next day we woke up to a completely different reality. And ever since that day, I feel like I don’t have the privilege to plan my life or to plan what to do, even right now. 

I’m supposed to be in the US, for example, for the book, for my book launch, to do a book signing, to raise awareness about Palestine and Gaza. But I know with all the rules, my visa won’t get accepted, so I didn’t even try applying for a visa. And the annoying thing is, I need a lot of paper and documents to prove that I’m real, genuine, and worthy to enter the country. Meanwhile, they can just enter my country, and I actually can’t go back to Gaza right now. So it’s just weird to me how borders and passports work. I think people don’t really understand how privileged they are with their passport or with geographical luck, really. Where are Palestinians supposed to go?

DE: I have one final question for you. What do you wish that more people would ask you, and what do you want to leave readers with that I didn’t ask or that we didn’t cover in this conversation? 
PA: I want people to know that The Eyes of Gaza isn’t my story alone, and when they’re reading that book, reading about what’s happening, my emotions, everything I’m going through, to remember that there are around two million people still in Gaza facing that. My experience was only for 45 days, but now, people in Gaza have been there for almost 700 days experiencing a genocide.