'After Israel's annihilation of Gaza, can I ever return home?' Opinion by Bahzad al Akhras

Bahzad al Akhras, a Palestinian scholar currently studying for his PhD in the United Kingdom, reflects on the psychological and emotional impact of losing his home in Gaza following the Israeli military operation that devastated much of the territory. His piece, published by the Middle East Eye, explores how the concept of ‘home’ has transformed from a tangible place into something intangible, something that can no longer be reclaimed. Al Akhras recalls a routine online meeting with academic supervisors during the summer, where one of them shared personal reflections on returning home after a visit to her homeland. She described the comfort of family, the familiarity of surroundings, and the quiet sense of belonging that comes with returning to one’s roots. Her words, “The privilege of home”, left a lasting impression on him, prompting introspection about the nature of home itself. Until recently, he had viewed home as something ordinary, something that everyone possessed. But after leaving Gaza nearly a year ago, those words took on new significance, forcing him to grapple with profound questions: What defines home? Can it be destroyed not only physically, but also psychologically? And what happens when there is no place to return to? His perspective shifted dramatically upon arriving in the UK in 2019 to pursue a master’s degree. Like many international students, he felt homesick, missing the sounds of Gaza, the rhythm of daily life, and the presence of family. Yet, despite these feelings, he maintained a sense of certainty: Gaza remained untouched, and so did his connection to it. He believed that once his studies were complete, he would return. This belief shaped his experiences abroad, allowing him to adapt to a new environment while maintaining a clear sense of where he belonged. That certainty shattered in February 2024, when his family home was destroyed during Israel’s military campaign. The loss was not merely of property, it was the erasure of a place that embodied his childhood, his family’s history, and his personal identity. Home ceased to be a destination he could return to; instead, it became a memory, a fragment of a past that could never be fully restored. Upon returning to the UK as a PhD student after being evacuated from Gaza, Al Akhras found himself in a situation eerily similar to his initial arrival. The physical journey mirrored that of five years earlier, yet the psychological experience was vastly different. Where once he had been temporarily away from home, he now faced permanent separation. Even if he one day returns to Gaza, he wonders: what will he be coming back to? This question haunts him throughout his academic work, overshadowing the usual optimism associated with nearing completion of a doctorate. For many students, graduation represents a hopeful transition, a step toward a clearer future. For Al Akhras, however, the prospect feels uncertain. As he nears the end of his studies, the question of where he belongs becomes increasingly urgent. The assumption that life continues in a familiar place, a home, known streets, a community that recognizes you, is no longer valid for him. The idea of returning to a place that once felt like home now seems impossible. In a world where returning home is often framed as a simple act of nostalgia or cultural continuity, Al Akhras’s experience highlights the complexity of displacement. His story underscores the emotional toll of losing not just a physical space, but a sense of self. As he navigates his academic path, the absence of a stable home continues to shape his journey, challenging the very notion of belonging itself.