"It was a terrifying scene," begins 21-year-old Aya Muhasien, recalling Israeli occupation forces' unprecedented assault on Birzeit University.
"Even though we Palestinians are used to it — I am from a village that is raided all the time — but the university is supposed to be different. It should be a safe space," the student tells The New Arab.
On a bright winter morning, Aya walked up the steep, tree-lined entrance to the occupied West Bank's Birzeit University, mentally reciting her presentation on translation strategies for English literature.
For her, it was a normal Tuesday: Aya and her friends were fretting over their upcoming exams as they passed the tall, black wrought-iron gates lined with security guards, wishing they had studied more.
But then they heard the deafening boom of an explosion nearby. Frantic screams erupted: "The army is raiding campus!" The friends veered suddenly and saw Israeli soldiers advancing behind them and broke into a run, as tear gas bombs began to fill the air.
Aya's eyes burned and streamed with tears as she tried to soothe her asthmatic friend, gasping for breath. Then she heard the crack of gunfire. She couldn't tell where they came from. Terror gripped her as she ran, searching for the source and for a safe retreat.
"I was supposed to be worrying about my exams," Aya shared, "but the occupation forces had another plan. They want to ruin your day by shooting some students, throwing tear gas bombs everywhere and destroying the university."
In the West Bank, a situation can shift from routine to unrest in a heartbeat. That's what happened at Birzeit University on 6 January, when Israeli army raids left 11 students injured, five of them by live ammunition, according to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society.
It was unprecedented — the first time Israeli forces launched a large-scale military operation on campus during school hours, targeting what had been a routine student protest.
This raid follows the trend of escalating Israeli military action and disruption of daily life in the West Bank since Israel launched a genocide in Gaza after 7 October.
The Israeli military claims that the troops entered Birzeit University after receiving intelligence about an expected "gathering in support of terrorism" and moved to disrupt the event.
"It's abnormal that we feel this is normal," Aya said about Israeli forces' ongoing raids.
From study hall to battlefield
Ahmad Badarneh was in the library studying when the raids began. When the 19-year-old went to the window to see where the commotion was coming from, an Israeli soldier suddenly appeared and levelled his gun barrel directly at him.
Fear shot through him as he realised the soldier could end his life in a second.
"I was shocked by the number of [sound and gas] bombs they dropped," Ahmad told The New Arab. "I heard a lot of sounds, and honestly, it felt like a war zone, not a university campus."
For Ahmad and many other Birzeit students, what was once a safe haven has become another potential battlefield.
"We are coming to terms with the fact that the university is no longer a safe place," he added.
"We never imagined the occupation would come and destroy the university, targeting us students. We haven't done anything wrong, but they came and opened fire on us without hesitation."
While the Israeli army has entered the Birzeit campus numerous times, arresting students, confiscating and destroying property, they usually do it in the middle of the night.
But on Tuesday morning, crowds of students packed the courtyard, surrounded by Birzeit's towering cream-coloured stone buildings, for a sit-in in support of Palestinian political prisoners.
Attempts to intimidate students
A warning had come two days earlier: Israeli soldiers pulled up outside campus, summoned the security guards, and told them to cancel the Tuesday protest or face arrest.
University officials heard about the threat but didn't take it seriously, according to political science professor Sa'd Nimer, because in Birzeit's history, Israeli forces had never staged a daytime incursion with students on campus.
There were an estimated 8,000 students and 1,500 faculty members on campus during the Tuesday raid, according to Birzeit University's administration.
For Sa'd, their goal was clear: to inspire fear and convey that any student activities should be suppressed. But he doesn't think the raids will deter students.
The professor, who for years has led foreign exchange students through the West Bank, pointing out settler outposts and checkpoints, expects students to organise and strategise for the next incursion.
For him, it's not a question of 'if' but 'when.'
"I will encourage students that next time you shouldn't allow them to come onto the campus," Sa'd said.
"You should start from the very beginning, resisting them and confronting them, not allowing them to have the same scenario that happened this time," he told The New Arab.
Education is resistance
Meanwhile, Ahmad Alashqar refuses to let fear drive him from his studies.
The final-year architectural engineering student stood firm when he said he'd return to campus no matter what happens next.
"Education is resistance," he said.
Ahmad is from Tulkarem, where Israeli army raids, violent clashes, and frequent deaths are woven into daily life, so the campus attack didn't shock him the way it did others.
But he explains that everything has become harder. The drive home from Birzeit used to take an hour and a half. Now, with checkpoints multiplying across the West Bank, it stretches past four hours. He can't go home as often anymore.
And since 7 October, something fundamental shifted, he shares.
"Before, if there was a problem at a checkpoint or when soldiers came to your village, you could at least try to talk it through with them, explain yourself, maybe work something out," he explained. "Now, if you even get close to them, they won't think twice before shooting you."
Aya is from Kafr Malik, a village outside Ramallah, tells The New Arab that when she inhaled the tear gas at university, it transported her to the many nights Israeli soldiers stormed her home, hurling canisters through the doorway before dragging away her brothers or father.
But even this familiar violence has intensified since 7 October. Her family used to shout at the soldiers during raids, protest, and fight back with words. It was all they had, she shares.
During the last raid, she shares that when they tried to speak up, a soldier pressed his rifle barrel against her pregnant sister's stomach and told them to shut up. And six months ago, soldiers shot and killed her 13-year-old cousin at point-blank range during a village raid.
"We go to the university to study, to act normal — like we aren't under occupation — to have fun with our friends," she tells The New Arab, adding that the campus was her calm in the storm.
"After what happened, I expect danger every day at university now," she continued. "But we have a saying in Arabic: We fight even with the pen. We resist even with the pen."
Some names have been changed for security reasons
Hannah Raslan is a journalist and visual storyteller based in the Middle East. Her work focuses on political and social issues, migration, and identity