Refaat Alareer (September 23, 1979 – December 6, 2023) was a Palestinian academic, poet, writer, and activist from the Gaza Strip. Born in Gaza City during the Israeli occupation, he stated that this experience shaped every aspect of his life. Alareer earned a degree in English from the Islamic University of Gaza in 2001, a master’s degree from University College London in 2007, and a Ph.D. in English Literature from Universiti Putra Malaysia in 2017 with a dissertation on the poetry of John Donne.
Academic and Literary Career
Alareer taught world literature and creative writing at the Islamic University of Gaza, focusing on socio-political and literary themes. He also co-edited two collections of Palestinian stories and testimonies: Gaza Writes Back (2014) and Gaza Unsilenced (2015). Additionally, he co-founded We Are Not Numbers, a mentorship program for young writers in Gaza, promoting storytelling as a tool for nonviolent resistance.
Activism
During the 2021 Israel-Palestine crisis, Alareer wrote for major outlets like The New York Times, shedding light on the war’s impact on his family and daily life in Gaza. He also participated in international media interviews, including with BBC and Democracy Now!, condemning the violence faced by Palestinians.
Death and Legacy
On December 6, 2023, Alareer was killed in an Israeli airstrike in northern Gaza, along with several members of his family. The Euro-Med Monitor reported that the attack appeared to be deliberate, following weeks of threats made against him. Five months later, his eldest daughter and grandchild were also killed in an Israeli airstrike.
Alareer left behind a significant legacy through his academic work and poetry, including the widely circulated poem “If I Must Die”, which called for hope and peaceful resistance in the face of violence.
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“If I must die”
by Refaat Alareer (1979 – 2023)
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze–
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself–
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale
