I am a Gazan dissident, hiding from Hamas and waiting for the day their reign of terror ends

The pain of Gaza is long and complex, different from what much of the world’s media portrays. But I’ll begin with the darkest and most catastrophic day in Gaza’s history: the morning of October 7.

We woke up to the news of Hamas militants breaching the Gaza border. We watched the horrific scenes on Al Jazeera – the killings, kidnappings, and abuse of women and the elderly. That morning, I felt compelled to take a stand and reject this madness. I remember posting on Facebook: "Why didn’t anyone ask for our opinion, since we’re the ones suffering the most from this insanity?"

My post didn’t gain much attention then because I didn’t have many followers. The war had just started, and my area in northern Gaza was heavily bombed, forcing me to flee south Gaza with my family, following general safety instructions. I began posting publicly on Facebook and "X" (formerly Twitter), convinced that Hamas' days were almost over. I repeatedly condemned the October 7 attacks—not just for their outcomes but for the principle. As a human being, I refuse to support attacks on civilians.

As I continued speaking out, my followers grew on social media, with people drawn to my unique rhetoric that wasn’t widely popular in Gaza. Things seemed fine, mostly because Hamas was too busy with the war to track me down. However, in late June, after I tweeted a mocking post about the death of a Hamas fighter, things took a dark turn. Hamas portrayed him as a hero, but I knew him from school – he had been a drug addict since middle school and he only joined Hamas because he didn’t like studying. I made a sarcastic comment about how much people were deciding the fate of an entire population.

What followed was an onslaught of death threats across all my social media platforms. People insulted me, cursed my mother, and spread hate. Thankfully, some fellow Gazans and Palestinians who believed in my message of peace defended me, condemning October 7 as an unacceptable act of terrorism. But the threats have continued to this day and become closer than ever to me. Because of the war and the chaos in Gaza, I’m now hiding in a distant relative’s house, fearing Hamas might find me and torture me as they’ve done to other dissenters.

My Secret Peace with Israel (2017)

I was born and raised in Gaza, which came under Hamas’ control during my teenage years. To me, Gaza always felt like a place with no options, opportunities, or solutions – a place where death was always near.

Growing up in a middle-class family in northern Gaza, our life was filled with fear and repression, both politically and socially. As a teenager, I witnessed street battles between the Palestinian Authority and Hamas fighters. I saw how easily Hamas militants killed fellow Palestinians just because they belonged to a different political party. This made me question everything: How can we condemn Israel for killing Palestinians when this is our reality? Does death change based on the gun that fires the bullet?

I began opposing Hamas during my time at the Islamic University in Gaza. I spoke out against the repression we faced and the rule of armed militias in Gaza. I advocated for a return to civilian governance and rejected the influence of Iran, which only brought destruction wherever it went. My opposition to Hamas led to multiple arrests and torture in their prisons.

In 2017, I had the opportunity to leave Gaza for medical treatment in Israel. That trip changed me forever. Traveling through Israel, I realized how different life could be. From the moment I crossed the Erez checkpoint, I decided to talk to everyone I met—drivers, soldiers, and even doctors in Tel Shomer Hospital. The humanity I encountered there was overwhelming. It was during that trip that I secretly made peace with Israel.

After my treatment, I returned to Gaza and resumed my studies, more determined than ever that Hamas had to go. My participation in the "We Want to Live بدنا نعيش" movement and subsequent arrest by Hamas security forces only strengthened my resolve. But I began to lose hope that change could come from within. That’s when I decided to leave Gaza for good—a plan that was interrupted by the October 7 attacks.

Now, I feel compelled to share my story, so it doesn’t remain buried within Gaza. Isn’t it strange that while the world’s media reports endlessly on the war, no one mentions how we, the dissidents of Gaza, live in constant fear of being executed by Hamas? We are anxiously waiting for the day when Hamas' rule will finally come to an end.

[Editor's note: Friends of Adham Al-Ahmer have created a GoFundMe page to help him during this time he's in hiding. Click here if you want to help support him in covering his basic needs as well as his media project to expose Hamas.]