'We will not leave': Al-Rashid Street turns into Gaza's largest displacement camp as families defy expulsion orders

For decades, al-Rashid Street was never just a coastal road along Gaza's western edge. It was the city's breathing space, where children played on the sand and families savoured fleeting moments of freedom despite the siege.

Today, the same road has been transformed into Gaza's largest displacement camp, a bleak stretch of tents erected by Palestinians refusing to abandon their city even as Israeli forces intensify bombardment and issue expulsion orders demanding civilians flee south.

The transformation of al-Rashid Street into a vast encampment captures the essence of Gaza's ongoing struggle of a people torn between the constant threat of death and the determination to remain rooted in their land, whatever the cost.

Turning into a city of tents

In recent weeks, Israeli military operations have pushed deeper into Gaza City and nearby neighbourhoods, forcing tens of thousands to flee their homes in al-Shuja'iyya, Zeitoun, Sheikh Radwan, and the refugee camps of Jabalia, Beit Lahia, and Beit Hanoun.

While many expected a mass southward exodus, a significant number instead moved west to al-Rashid Street, clinging to the Mediterranean coastline.

The result is a surreal landscape made up of rows of plastic and canvas shelters scattered across the sand, forming what resembles a new city, but one built on grief, hunger, and waiting.

According to Israeli estimates, about 10,000 Palestinian families remain in northern Gaza. Israeli media described this as "disappointing" and complicating the objectives of the military operation "Gideon 2".

"We are not heroes, but we are just afraid of becoming refugees again. When they told us to go south, I remembered my first displaced journey when they forced us to go there. It was a part of hell," Om Ismail, a Gaza-based Palestinian woman, told The New Arab.

"We live in hunger and fear, but we are close to our homes, close to our city. It is harder to stay, but it is the only option," she said.

For many, this choice is less about resilience than about dignity in survival; the camp is both a silent act of defiance and a daily gamble against bombardment.

Life among the tents

Life on al-Rashid Street is marked by deprivation; the makeshift shelters offer little protection from the heat of the day or the cold of the night, drinking water is scarce, and children run barefoot between sand and rubble.

Yousef Abed, 45, displaced from Beit Lahia, described his daily routine in comments to TNA.

"During the day, I search for food; sometimes, I find bread; sometimes, just lentils. At night, we fall asleep to the sound of bombing. My children ask me: 'Are we going to die tonight?' I have no answer; all we can do is wait," he said.

Abed believes death follows Palestinians wherever they go. "I prefer to be killed here rather than in the south," he said.

"For long months, Israel claims that it is fighting Hamas and has killed thousands of them. We know that there is no Hamas, either officials in governments or fighters here [in Gaza City], so it insists on killing us [the innocent civilians]," he added.

For this reason, he believes "the people have to face Israel by themselves and push the world to bear their responsibility towards humanity at least".

Symbolism of survival

The gathering on al-Rashid Street is more than a humanitarian tragedy; it is also a political act. By refusing to move south, tens of thousands of Palestinians are rejecting Israel's narrative of "voluntary displacement".

"Israel expected a rapid exodus from northern Gaza. But al-Rashid Street represents a collective decision to stay put, despite the danger. This massive gathering confronts the occupation with a dilemma: either bomb tens of thousands of civilians or accept that Palestinians will not abandon their land," Gaza-based political expert Ahed Ferwana told The New Arab.

"It is the ultimate thing that clings to survival," he said, warning that the camp itself could become a target.

"Israel may see this as a pressure point. But the people’s message is clear: 'We are here, we will not leave'," he added.

Ferwana stressed that the message is not only for Israel but also for the world.

"People here don’t want to be heroes in some romanticised story. They want to live. Their presence is a cry against the silence of the international community: protect us or acknowledge your complicity," he added.

International law and violated rights

The gap between international law and Gaza's reality is stark. Under the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949 and the Additional Protocols of 1977, civilians in armed conflict must be protected from violence and displacement with special protections for women, children, and the displaced in particular, while humanitarian organisations must be given unimpeded access.

But in Gaza, these protections exist only on paper, with hundreds of thousands of families, including children, women, and the elderly, remaining exposed without shelter, food, or medicine.

"We are not heroes. We just want to live. But going south means losing our land forever. Now we are caught between the sea and the bombardment, waiting for either God’s mercy or the world’s action," Abu Mohammed, 62, displaced from Sheikh Radwan, told The New Arab.

Incomplete solidarity and absent pressure

Even as Palestinians endure displacement, they are aware of protests in Europe and beyond, seeing them as meaningful but ultimately insufficient.

"We appreciate the European people for taking to the streets; it gives us hope that someone is listening, but we need more than words. We need real pressure on governments and institutions to force Israel to stop this war, otherwise, solidarity remains only slogans," Abu Mohammed said.

"Europeans march by the thousands, but their governments still sell weapons to Israel. This contradiction kills us twice. Solidarity without action is just television images," he added.

Frustration also extends toward the Arab world. "Where are the Arab peoples? Why don't we see them in the streets like the Europeans? Gaza is being wiped out completely. Silence is not an option," said Salama Abu Taha, a Gaza-based resident.

"If millions had taken to the streets in Arab capitals, it would have made a difference. This is not just a Palestinian issue; it’s a test for humanity. In these tents, there is no Hamas, no fighters. Only civilians. And yet we are left to die," he said.