by Dylan Prunster

This article was first published on the Academics for Palestine WA substack and has been republished with permission.

On December 6, 2023, Palestinian author, poet, and academic Refaat Alareer was assassinated in a targeted Israeli airstrike (Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, 2023). In what follows, this paper argues that, embedded in Israel’s ongoing genocide (Shlaim, 2025), this killing sits within a broader scholasticide: the deliberate targeting of Palestinian educational infrastructure and communities as a means of annihilating the conditions for educational life. As part of this scholasticide, in just the first eleven months following the October 7 uprising in 2023, 85 per cent of schools were hit or damaged, including 396 school buildings that were directly hit. At least 9,839 students, 411 teachers and staff were killed. After thirteen months, more than 95 per cent of schools in Gaza had been partially or completely destroyed, and 87 per cent would require significant reconstruction before they could again function. Furthermore, 658,000 school-aged children in Gaza have been denied access to all of their formal learning (Shlaim, 2025).

This paper seeks to clarify the core principles underpinning Refaat’s messaging, namely sumūd and anti-normalisation. Drawing on Freirean and Fanonian traditions, it examines both his classroom pedagogy and its translation into mass communication, situating him as a Gramscian ‘organic intellectual’ (Aljamal, 2024). This paper argues that these principles — sumūd, anti-normalisation, and the role of the organic intellectual — constitute precisely what made Refaat a high-value strategic target for the Zionist project and its Western supporters: a pedagogy that refused erasure and built popular political consciousness.

According to Gramscian theory, organic intellectuals tend to emerge from subaltern classes and help articulate their experiences, interests, and worldview. Among the underclasses, they can play a counter-hegemonic role by challenging the dominant ideology of the ruling class. By contrast, “traditional intellectuals” present themselves as independent from class relations, but often reinforce the values and culture of the ruling class, helping to normalise and even naturalise the economic base and the ruling class’s dominant position (Gramsci, 1987).

The analysis will move from the classroom to the screen: First, this paper will look at Refaat’s pedagogical practice in Gaza Writes Back before shifting to his counter-hegemonic interventions in mass discourse, specifically his famous interactions on Twitter. While these are very different spheres, with very different cultural and discursive norms, the same principles of sumūd and anti-normalisation are translated into a Gramscian organic intellectual practice.

Positionality

This paper adopts an anti-colonial framework that treats the colonised as the leading actors in their own struggle. Palestinians are not monolithic; voices in Gaza, the rest of the occupied territories (including “Israel proper”), and the diaspora are diverse. Recognising that diversity does not license outsiders to cherry-pick only the Palestinian voices most comfortable to them (Jarrar, 2025). This paper argues that such selectivity functions as a form of tokenisation. This paper’s framework is accordingly grounded in the Palestinian resistance principles known as al-thawābit — encompassing the right of return, self-determination, Jerusalem, and resistance — which closely align with Refaat Alareer’s works and messaging.

Within that framework, this paper seeks to counterbalance the moderate voices amplified in the imperial core by elevating more radical voices, unpacking with nuance the rationale behind their principles and praxis. It also aims to communicate in good faith with readers who are more moderately inclined — a courtesy often absent in the highly charged realm of social media. By centring Refaat’s life and work, the paper amplifies and contextualises academically grounded, accessible knowledge as a form of resistance.

Pedagogy

To explore Refaat Alareer’s pedagogy, this paper draws on the text “Gaza Writes Back: Short Stories from Young Writers in Palestine” (Alareer et al., 2014). This publication is a series of short fictional stories from Palestinian authors who were students of Refaat’s. This paper analyses Refaat’s introduction, focusing on his pedagogy, as well as some of the stories themselves to highlight the pedagogical praxis associated with the theories.

Gaza Writes Back’s pedagogy is evident in both its form and its content. It centres student voices, while Refaat’s editorial presence remains deliberately sparse; a common practice for Refaat, as noted in Aljamal’s paper (2024). Read through Freire (1972), this resembles a dialogical orientation to learning, where knowledge is produced with, rather than deposited ‘into learners’ under the banking model. The text thereby functions as cultural work that promotes and maintains solidarity among the colonised and builds the conditions for organisation through storytelling.

Discourse in the imperial core tends to naturalise settler-colonial relations (Sbeih, 2025a), often through the lens of liberal humanitarianism (Jarrar, 2025). In this context, Refaat’s refusal to summarise the stories for the reader, to preload them with disclaimers, or to translate their political meaning into a liberal humanitarian discursive form can be read as a challenge to that mode of mediation. Further, the choice of a majority of students who can write in English deliberately leaves little room for censorship via translation. The students’ narratives are presented directly, without interpretations that seek to make them palatable to Western sensibilities. Meaning is not deposited into the reader by an authoritative mediator; instead, the reader is confronted with Palestinian subjectivity on its own terms.

“Written by young writers from Gaza, the stories included here present, in English, a much-needed Palestinian youth narrative without the mediation or influences of translation or of non-Palestinian voices. Gaza Writes Back comes to resist Israel’s attempts to murder these emerging voices, to squander the suffering of the martyrs, to bleach the blood, to dam the tears, and to smother the screams. This book shows the world that despite Israel’s continuous attempts to kill steadfastness in us, Palestinians keep going on, never surrendering to pain or death, and always seeing and seeking liberty and hope in the darkest of times.” (Alareer et al., 2014, pp. 13–14).

Jarrar (2025) posits that liberal humanitarian frameworks offer Palestinians paternalism and dependence. Refaat, conversely, can be read as elevating and humanising the voices of Palestinian writers — a rehumanisation as resistance to colonial dehumanisation (Fanon, 1991). In this sense, he rejects the sanitised, cherry-picked narratives of the Western media by simply bypassing them altogether. Rather than being portrayed as props, perpetually helpless victims, or just numbers, the authors are portrayed as empowered individuals within the Palestinian collective, with the agency and intellect to speak for themselves. Read through Freire (1972), the anti-dialogical characteristic of cultural invasion is refused, in favour of the dialogical characteristic of cultural synthesis.

When a narrative caters to the sensibilities of Western liberal hegemony and filters Palestinian voices through this hegemony, the invaders’ ideology is imposed upon those they are invading (Freire, 1972). Conversely, elevating Palestinian voices, specifically in English, functions as an act of cultural synthesis. Offering unfiltered voices aimed at those in the imperial core directly seeks to serve Palestinian liberation (Freire, 1972). While Palestinian liberation will come through the resistance of Palestinians, pressure from those in the imperial core, towards their governments, who materially support the Zionist project, plays an important role. As Jarrar (2025) argues, solidarity is not founded in pity but in “co-resistance.” Building on that analysis, this paper argues that practices which humanise Palestinians and legitimise their resistance help make such solidarity possible.

Under conditions of scholasticide, such pedagogical choices are not neutral. Jarrar (2025) and Sbeih (2025b) critique frameworks that naturalise settler-colonial relations and seek resolution through a narrow humanitarian lens. In this context, education that produces critically conscious political actors, rather than grateful victims seeking “liberation” in ways that cater to liberal sensibilities, becomes a threat. The refusal to mediate or sanitise student voices is therefore also a refusal of pacification. It is precisely this kind of pedagogical practice, producing organic intellectuals rather than compliant narrators, that renders educators like Refaat targets within a colonial system that seeks to annihilate not only institutions but also the conditions for collective critical consciousness.

This counter-hegemonic, critical consciousness is expressed in Hanan Habashi’s “L for Life” (Alareer et al., 2014, p. 31). This narrative especially humanises the protagonist’s deceased father (Baba). This is counterhegemonic to the often-dehumanised male population, a demographic routinely monolithised as “Hamas terrorists”. The line “I knew that you were just a story away. A story away!” can be interpreted as a reference to the importance of storytelling in the propagation of Palestinian, decolonial counterhegemony.

“Gaza Writes Back provides conclusive evidence that telling stories is an act of life, that telling stories is resistance, and that telling stories shapes our memories” (Alareer et al., 2014, p. 15).

Refaat’s point here is that the authors’ writings that follow are not mere reflection, storytelling for its own sake, but praxis: narrative as a form of struggle with material stakes. This does not discount the therapeutic dimension of writing. It instead situates therapeutic expression in a dialectical relationship with the task of national liberation (Cabral, 1970).

Trauma is real and lived, but it is neither politically neutral nor separable from its material causes. A Freirean reading clarifies storytelling as a conscientising, dialogical practice that names the world, identifies the structure that produces the suffering, and converts experience into collective cooperation oriented toward action. This stands in opposition to the anti-dialogical action of conquest, which seeks to dehumanise and pacify the colonised subjects (Freire, 1972). In Fanonian terms, the same act functions as rehumanisation; it preserves memory, refuses silence, counters the narratives of hegemony, and insists on agency (Fanon, 1991). Widespread critical consciousness, across borders and hemispheres, is needed to effect change. In plain terms, the masses will not be mobilised against imperialism if they do not know it exists.

Aya Rabah’s “Scars” demonstrates this; the oppressor and their character are named for what they are:

“My mother was like a holy figure standing in the shadow of God’s throne whenever she picked lavender from our backyard. And because I was afraid of them—of the invader of our land—she always reminded me, ‘The more morals die inside a human being, the more crimes he will be able to commit.’” (Alareer et al., 2014, pp. 170–171)

By naming the invader concretely, rather than filtering violence through abstraction or metaphor, the text refuses what Jarrar (2025) identifies as the depoliticising tendencies of liberal humanitarian discourse. For people under colonial occupation, this clarity is confrontational and counter-hegemonic. It denies the occupier the liberal discursive cover it is accustomed to, and through which imperialist aggression is normalised.

“Sameeha Elwan, a contributor to this book, noted in particular that, ‘Cyberspace, as a newly centralized space in which the act of storytelling is constantly in process, provides scattered Palestinians with a place which holds new possibilities of forging new ways of belonging or place-making.’” (Alareer et al., 2014, p. 14).

Refaat’s decision to foreground and cite Sameeha Elwan’sinsight is a clear demonstration of pedagogy as praxis. Knowledge is not accumulated first and “applied” later, but produced through struggle and immediately oriented toward changing the world. In Freirean terms, this is a dialogical movement in which insight is generated and shared across a teacher-student/student-teacher relationship, and then culturally synthesised with the material conditions of the present. Concretely, an insight emerges that recognises the importance of cyberspace in counter-hegemony through a shared dialogue between Refaat and Sameeha, which is then extended to the reader, who extends it to others through discourse, and so on. Dialogical pedagogy is not just something that is done to make everyone involved feel nice; it directly serves the material interests of Palestinian decolonisation.

Under colonial occupation, siege, apartheid, and diaspora, fragmentation is by design. It isolates Palestinians from one another, interrupts the dialogical transmission of collective memory, and constrains the emergence of shared critical consciousness (Freire, 1972). Sameeha’s articulation of cyberspace as a terrain of place-making directly counters this logic by enabling discourse and organising across imposed borders. In Fanonian terms, this functions as a form of rehumanisation (Fanon, 1991). Insisting on using voice and agency to bring about unity and organisation is to resist. Simply put, if Palestinians can communicate more effectively with each other, their resistance will become better organised and thus stronger.

In this sense, Sameeha, along with Refaat and the other authors, act as organic intellectuals. To explicitly explore how cyberspace is an important space for organic intellectuals, this paper now turns to Refaat’s approach to messaging within this space, from a Gramscian perspective.

Organic Intellectual Messaging in 280 Characters or Less

Refaat Alareer was a prolific Twitter poster — a deliberate pedagogical choice to engage in political struggle where mass discourse actually occurs. Effective messaging in this domain is not simply a matter of copying and pasting academic writing into lengthy threads; it is about adapting one’s knowledge to the medium. On Twitter, this means sharp, witty and often abrasive rhetoric that adapts to the culture of the medium, while rejecting liberal discursive decorum. His posts are grounded in the principles of sumūd, anti-normalisation and Palestinian self-determination, functioning as counter-hegemonic interventions against the normalisation of colonial violence (Jisr Collective, 2022). This section situates that practice within a Gramscian framework, reading Refaat as an organic intellectual and a significant asset of Palestinian resistance (Aljamal, 2024; Gramsci, 1987).

Refaat’s Prolific Twitter Posting

Refaat Alareer Vs Mehdi Hasan

“Fuck Mehdi Hasan”

-Refaat Alareer (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023c)

This tweet is not an emotional outburst so much as a deliberate refusal of liberal mediation. It may surprise some to see such strong words directed at a figure whom many Zionists nonetheless paint as an antisemitic enemy of Zionism. Before analysing the conflict further, it is worth letting Refaat explain it in his own words.

Mehdi Hasan, responding to a joint statement by France, Germany, Italy, the UK, and the US: “A statement (rightly) strong, eloquent, & united against the massacre of 100s innocent Israelis by Hamas – yet no mention whatsoever of the 100s of innocent Palestinians killed in Gaza over past 48 hours. As ever, total erasure of Palestinian deaths, including Palestinian kids.” (Hasan, 2023)

Refaat Alareer replied: “Mehdi Hasan is a cheap sell-out. As a Palestinian living the hell Israel causes because of these 4 barbaric countries’ support, has blood on his dirty careerist hands for calling this genocidal statement “(rightly) strong” and “eloquent”. Mehdi as always will do anything to look cool to white ppl. Mehdi Hasan is not a friend of Palestine or the voice of the voiceless. Mehdi Hasan justifies, for clout and cash, the extermination of Palestinians and the destruction of Gaza” (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023b; Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023g).

This paper reads Refaat’s point as follows: Mehdi Hasan can condemn the Zionist state and its Western backers in their most egregious moments while still operating within a liberal frame that delegitimises armed resistance. Rather than challenging the absurdity of imperial actors complicit in settler-colonial occupation claiming moral authority, he leaves intact the hegemonic presumption of their legitimacy. This paper argues that Hasan’s appeal within mainstream discourse is sustained in part by the naturalisation of settler-colonial occupation discussed by Sbeih (2025b) and the liberal humanitarian framing critiqued by Jarrar (2025). From that perspective, Refaat’s hostility to Hasan can be read as hostility to a Gramscian “traditional intellectual”: not one who challenges hegemony at its foundations, but one who operates within its permitted moral boundaries and thereby helps reproduce it.

The pedagogy discussed earlier is evident here: Refaat’s praxis matches what he teaches. In Gaza Writes Back, Refaat expressed his aim to offer Palestinian voices, unfiltered, without censorship or disclaimers that seek to placate liberal sensibilities. The fight against hegemony is asymmetrical and fought on many fronts. Here, he is taking that fight directly to a traditional intellectual. In doing so, Refaat acts as an organic intellectual. He rejects the notion that Israel’s violence and Palestinian resistance can be treated as though they occur in a vacuum. While Western discourse normalises and decontextualises decades of colonial occupation (Sbeih, 2025b), Refaat exposes it and the way a wider Western imperial order materially sustains it. Jarrar (2025) critiques liberal humanitarian framing; this paper argues that such framing forms part of an imperial order that often obscures itself behind euphemisms such as “rules-based order,” “liberal democracy,” “human rights,” and “liberal internationalism.” Refaat, and organic intellectuals like him, work to strip away that façade and name it plainly as imperialism. That is precisely what threatens the legitimacy of the most powerful actors on earth.

The raw, confronting lived experience of Refaat expresses this:

“An extremely close explosion One that makes you feel that’s it It’s our turn You feel the your heart shake You gulp the cement and gunpowder Spared. For now

The worst bombings come you catch some sleep. The bombs that wake you up. I am reading tweets about Israel destroying homes one the heads of the families. Exterminating (can I say Holocausting) [sic] the family members and some of their neighbors.

Israel bombs mosques around the time of prayer. And when we say Israel bombs a place it makes sure it destroy or damages several ones around it. Gaza is an extremely densely populated area Despite Israel barbarity the call for prayer at dawn continues and offer a little peace

Those Israel bombs mostly pass away instantly Imagine being their neighbor having to wake up in horror like it’s a dream Like it’s doomsday How can we forgive or let Israel get away with this. Israel can kill us all and destroy all and we will rise up against its brutality

And then we are ask why We are asked to be polite And mehdi hasan insists he is moral and gazans die He insist we are wrong and he is moral For refusing to die in silence we are the bad guys and he is moral We are mehdi’s look-liberals-iam-cool-like-you story. And we die

First raining lightly in Gaza actually rain in addition to the Israeli bombs raining on the homes of civilians”

-Refaat Alareer (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023a)

This passage clarifies why Refaat’s rejection of liberal mediation is not purely an emotional expression of personal despair. It occurs as a result of Refaat’s proximity to imperialism in the very direct sense of colonial extermination. The demands for politeness here, presented as respect for decorum, function to obscure an act of silencing. This can be read as part of what Sbeih (2025a) describes as an appeal to “rational pragmatism” that, in practice, upholds imperial power relations. In this context, figures who imply a moral equivalence between the oppressed and the oppressor, while demanding “civility” as Palestinians are killed and erased, participate in a discursive hegemony that normalises imperialist violence.

The confrontation with Mehdi is thus the logical extension of a pedagogy that refuses abstraction in the face of the concrete conditions of extermination. Nevertheless, Hasan remains, ultimately, a mediator within liberal discourse. While beyond the scope of this paper, there are arguments for the tactical benefits of such mediation (Alkhatib, 2025). It should be noted, however, that this paper’s anti-colonial framework, by which the colonised are the leading actors in their own struggle, does not align with such arguments. The next step in Refaat’s praxis is more direct: challenging those who do not merely reproduce hegemonic frames, but actively manufacture them. It is here that Refaat’s confrontations with openly Zionist media figures, such as Bari Weiss, must be situated.

Refaat Alareer Vs Bari Weiss

Bari Weiss (in response to a satirical Tweet from Refaat Alareer): What’s going on here? Pretty simple. Institutions are a reflection of their people. This is what happens when a newspaper is overrun by reporters and editors, trained at elite schools, who have embraced a “decolonial” worldview. Reader, beware. (Bari Weiss [@bariweiss], 2023b)

Refaat Alareer: 💩💨💩💨 (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023d)

This reply, amassing nearly four thousand likes, is a simple, irreverent, and powerful example of counter-hegemonic messaging. Its force lies not in its content but in how it delegitimises the hegemonic framework. Instead of engaging Weiss’s framing on its own terms, Refaat refuses it outright, denying the seriousness and authority it is used to being afforded by default. In doing so, he withdraws legitimacy from a figure whose influence rests precisely on their hegemonic intellectual credibility. The context of this exchange is: David Efune, owner of the New York Sun, who denies the genocide (Middle East Eye, 2024) and publicly stated that “Israel needs to finish the job in Rafah,” tweeted the following claim:

“A baby was found in an oven, baked to death by Hamas terrorists, leading Israeli first responder @EliBeerUH recounted to an @RJC gathering last night. His group was among the first to respond to and witness the Oct 7 atrocities.”

Refaat Alareer replied: “With or without baking powder” (Bari Weiss [@bariweiss], 2023a)

To clarify, there was no baby baked to death in an oven by Hamas (Haaretz, 2023; The Jerusalem Post, 2023). This was an outlandish fabrication that falls squarely within the tradition of hasbara; the manufacture and circulation of atrocity narratives designed to produce consent for imperialist violence (Gresh, 2024). Such claims are not mere reporting errors; they are ideological weapons. Their effectiveness does not depend on plausibility and interrogation via critical thought, but on the legitimacy of those who propagate them.

The crucial point here is not so much that these narratives are false (though they are) but that they can circulate at all because the traditional intellectuals who repeat them retain hegemonic credibility (Gramsci, 1987). It is this credibility that Refaat’s irreverence targets. Rather than painstakingly disproving claims that depict Palestinian resistance in a cartoonishly dehumanising way, he discredits them on the face of their absurdity. In doing so, he refuses the premise that such narratives deserve engagement. This withdrawal of legitimacy is precisely what renders his intervention threatening.

This threat is not confined to Zionism alone, but extends to a broader imperial order: one that is often normalised (Sbeih, 2025a), that draws on humanitarian language of the kind critiqued by Jarrar (2025), and that relies on moral authority and liberal decorum to obscure its violence (Gramsci, 1987; Harvey, 2003). When such authority erodes, particularly among audiences in the imperial core, domestic pressure can emerge that constrains imperial action (Henley, 2025; Pew Research Center, 2024).

Capitalism and imperialism require legitimacy precisely because the system is materially exploitative (Marx, 1990). When Refaat refuses to adhere to their decorum and declines to engage with their narratives on their own terms, that illegitimacy is exposed. A popular organic intellectual, with reach into the imperial core becomes a structural risk: effective counter-hegemony can generate domestic pressure that forces the ruling class to curb its most violent accumulation practices or face disillusionment at home (Gramsci, 1987). This is why such interventions are met with repression.

Figures such as Weiss are traditional intellectuals — ideological nodes within a wider discursive system that legitimises imperial violence and, through it, accumulation (Gramsci, 1987). To challenge them publicly, and to do so in a manner that strips away their moral authority, is to expose oneself to escalation within that system. The ruling class’s response in this case: scholasticide.

On October 31, 2023, Refaat Alareer tweeted:

“If I get killed by Israeli bombs or my family is harmed, I blame Bari Weiss @bariweiss and her likes. Many maniacal Israeli soldiers already bombing Gaza take these lies and smears seriously and they act upon them.” (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023e)

On the 6^th of December that same year (thirty-six days later), Refaat Alareer was killed by an Israeli airstrike. Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor documented that the airstrike surgically targeted the specific apartment where Refaat was located, and not the building as a whole — indicating he was the target, not collateral damage (Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, 2023).

This is a part of a broader pattern of scholasticide. Refaat Alareer was an organic intellectual whose pedagogy fostered critical consciousness and cultivated further organic intellectuals, compounding as students became teachers and knowledge reproduced itself dialogically. His effectiveness across national, cultural, and ideological lines rendered him a threat. His pedagogy and praxis, rooted in education, were treated as such. While Refaat has been martyred and an irreplaceable organic intellectual lost, his work, pedagogy, and praxis endure. It is this continuity, how such praxis can and must be sustained, that the conclusion of this paper will address.

Conclusion

This paper has sought to explore the pedagogy and praxis of Refaat and his students not simply as analysis, but as counter-hegemonic literature in its own right — one that might spark dialogue and, ultimately, change. Counter-hegemonic literature is itself a form of movement building: it produces the conditions for conscientisation, extends the reach of organic intellectual practice, and sustains the dialogical transmission of knowledge that scholasticide seeks to destroy. In a media landscape dominated by performative discourse and a ruling class that benefits from division, this is not incidental to the paper’s purpose but central to it.

For more moderate readers, the aim here is not to shame or expel, but to explain. Imperial core societies are structurally insulated from the everyday realities of imperialism; coming to terms with the problematic foundations of beliefs long held in good faith is neither simple nor comfortable. Most who support the Palestinian cause do so out of a genuine desire for Palestinian freedom — but extending an abstract desire into something more concrete, or confronting what it would require in practice, is a more demanding intellectual and moral challenge. This paper aims to offer a reasoned account of why more radical perspectives emerge under the conditions experienced in the imperial periphery, while opening space for dialogical engagement rather than sectarian denunciation.

For those already operating from a more radical standpoint, the task is to keep alive the pedagogy and praxis exemplified by Refaat and by the broader tradition of liberation pedagogy analysed here (Aljamal, 2024). Where readers are grappling in good faith with an emerging, and often unsettling, critical consciousness, patience and principled engagement are vital. Texts such as Gaza Writes Back offer pathways to conscientisation that online discourse often cannot.

At the same time, organic intellectuals must be prepared to identify and confront bad-faith actors. It is equally, if not more, important to identify those who present themselves as allies while reproducing hegemonic frameworks — the false ally is often more corrosive to movement building than the overt opponent. This work is often isolating and rarely rewarded, but its costs must be weighed against those borne by Refaat and by countless others who have been targeted for refusing to remain silent.

Scholasticide is not merely the destruction of physical institutions or individuals, but an attack on the conditions that make liberation pedagogy possible at all (Cabral, 1974). The responsibility of those committed to dismantling such structures is therefore not only to remember Refaat, but to sustain, through steadfast praxis, the pedagogy of liberation he embodied. This unyielding commitment to praxis is echoed in his final words, written just two days before his martyrdom:

“We could die this dawn. I wish I were a freedom fighter so I die fighting back those invading Israeli genocidal maniacs invading my neighborhood and city.”

-Refaat Alareer, December 4, 2023 (Refaat in Gaza 🇵🇸 [@itranslate123], 2023f)

Refaat was a freedom fighter, and he died writing back.

References1

Alareer, R., El-Haddad, L., & Abou Hamed, K. (Eds.). (2014). Gaza Writes Back: Short stories from young writers in Gaza, Palestine. Just World Books.

Aljamal, Y. M. (2024). Remembering Refaat Alareer: The legacy of Gaza’s storyteller. Journal of Palestine Studies, 53(2), 120–124. https://doi.org/10.1080/0377919X.2024.2366654