Threads of Resilience
On the morning of a day that Raneem had dreamt of for years, she prepared to face the Student Exchange Committee, feeling the weight of her aspirations. Despite her dreams of breaking boundaries in the fashion world, the reality of her life in Deir al-Ghusun, a village north of Tulkarm, cast a dark shadow over her ambitions. In the days leading up to her important interview, her village experienced a harrowing three-day raid that left deep scars on both its landscape and its people.
The violent incursions brought with them bomb explosions, night raids, arrests, and the barricading of village entrances, effectively transforming her home into a prison without doors. The violence and chaos forced families to flee their homes, while soldiers took over properties, displacing hundreds of residents. Raneem's life, like many others, came to a standstill; the basic necessities of life—food, security, and peace—became fleeting memories.
As she faced the Student Exchange Committee, Raneem struggled to project confidence. With the echoes of explosions still reverberating in her mind and the weight of anxiety pulling at her heart, she fought to convince herself that her presence alone was a small victory amid overwhelming grief. Her dreams of becoming one of the world’s greatest fashion designers served as her anchor. Despite the turmoil around her, she recognized that her passion for fashion could transcend the pain.
Traveling from Bethlehem to Tulkarm to visit her family, a journey that often took more than seven hours due to constant checkpoints and inspections, Raneem found herself in a heartbreaking cycle. Ramadan brought additional challenges, sometimes stretching her travel time to nine hours or more. Each visit to Tulkarm deepened her feelings of anguish as she witnessed the destruction—over 25,000 displaced individuals, homeless children living in the streets, and a landscape ravaged by conflict. The ongoing occupation had turned the city into a battleground, where civilians faced unimaginable hardships and trauma.
Raneem feels her heart breaking with each return. The faces of children in despair and the sight of devastated homes fuel her determination to make a difference. "Every time I visit, I return devastated," she shares. Yet, despite this pain, an unwavering resolve propels her forward. For Raneem, art—particularly fashion design—serves as her language, a medium through which she can express the unspeakable suffering and resilience of her community.
She dreams not just of a profession, but of a voice that reflects the stories she witnesses. "We are here, we live, we dream, and the dream has a way to continue," she asserts. She envisions a future where she can return to her village, not merely as a visitor, but as an individual capable of healing and transforming the sorrow into a vibrant expression of hope.
From Al-Sikka Street, just a stone's throw from Tulkarm Camp, Raneem Shuli's words resonate with those who understand the pain of her reality. With curfews, destruction, and the harsh presence of soldiers ever looming, her commitment to fashion design offers a glimmer of hope. The dress she created at Dar al-Kalima University stands as a testament to her creativity, resilience, and determination to bring color to a place marred by grief.
Raneem is more than just a young woman with dreams of becoming a renowned fashion designer; she is a symbol of resilience and a voice for those who have felt unheard. Through her art, she aspires to remind the world that despite the shadows of conflict and despair, there lies an undeniable spirit of hope, creativity, and the relentless pursuit of dreams.
