Another week, another handful of moments worth sharing! From publishing stories and learning from journalists to exploring how we can debate, challenge, and strengthen the Palestinian narrative, here’s a little glimpse of what our WANNers have been up to this week. 🧵Check out WANN’s week in moments 📸👇

Some stories are too heavy for headlines, and some names refuse to be forgotten. This poem tells the story of 112 members of the Abu Sharia family, returned to the light after 1,099 days beneath #Gaza’s rubble. Read this moving piece by WANN writer @ahmedhodremly on our website

At least 300 Palestinian children have been killed by Israeli forces in Gaza during the 300 days since the ceasefire was announced in October 2025, according to UNICEF. The figure means that, on average, one Palestinian child has been killed every day during a period that was supposed to bring an end to the violence. UNICEF said children continue to face deadly risks from Israeli attacks, gunfire and explosive remnants of war across the Gaza Strip. More than 1,250 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza since the ceasefire took effect on 10 October 2025, according to Palestinian health authorities and recent reporting. Israeli forces have continued airstrikes, shelling and gunfire across the Strip despite the truce, with hundreds more Palestinians injured. The deaths add to the overall toll of Israel’s war on Gaza, which has surpassed 73,000 Palestinians killed since October 2023.

Stories don't expire when they leave the headlines. They continue in the lives of those who lived them, survived them, and are still waiting to be heard. Stay with them.

She built a bakery in a tent. With one stove, scarce supplies and a war around her, 22-year-old Roaa Shaheen is still baking little pieces of joy in Gaza. Meet the woman behind the bakery. Read her story⤵️ wearenotnumbers.org/bringing…

"There was a table once. Not a special table. Just wood. Just a surface. But around it — everything that mattered. My father, Ibrahim. My mother, Jamila. My brothers, Mohammed, Ahmad, Mahmoud, and their families. My sisters, Iman, Manal, and Ala’a. My nephews, Adham among them. Filling the space around it without thinking about it. Then came the night of July 24, 2014. One night. One missile. Five people. My father. My mother. Mohammed. Ahmad. Adham. Five chairs, empty." Read the full poem and more deeply personal stories of life, loss and survival from Gaza on We Are Not Numbers.

As the world watches the recovery of 112 bodies from beneath the rubble in #Gaza, it’s easy to count the dead. Harder to grasp are the lives those numbers represent. Dreams interrupted, stories left unfinished, families and histories erased

Apparently, girls have a lot to say. And they’re not waiting for their turn💅🏽 Young women are dominating our 19th cohort of writers in #Gaza, taking part in training sessions, exchanging ideas, and learning how to turn statistics into human stories. We love to see it! ❤️