If Anyone Deserves a Nobel Prize, it’s Journalist Bisan Owda: To us at the Women Post, she’s the Very Definition of Courage. And She’s Still Alive.

In a world that too often rewards silence, Bisan Owda’s voice rises from the rubble — reminding us what real leadership, truth, and womanhood look like.

Bisan before the war and after. Left: “Once upon a time…on a boat ride on my beautiful city”. Right: “This might be our last call…Gaza is completely collapsing!”

She’s not just brave — she’s an absolute force, leading, documenting, and telling the stories of Palestine with a resilience most people can’t even imagine. She’s a true leader for her people, and this is just the beginning for her.

You might not care about a Nobel Peace Prize handed out by Western empires, but right now, Bisan and other journalists deserve every ounce of our attention. Keep their names loud.

Because history is being written in real time, and the people holding the pens — or in this case, the phones — are the ones risking their lives for the truth.

The Voice of Gaza

For almost 2 years, Bisan Owda has been the world’s eyes and ears inside Gaza — not through a network, not through a foreign correspondent safely stationed across a border, but through her own lived experience. She is documenting devastation from the ground, showing the human cost of a war that refuses to see the humanity of her people.

Her videos are raw, unfiltered, and unbearably human. You can hear the explosions, the panic, the silence between sirens. You can see the heartbreak in her eyes when she reports the deaths of people she knows — friends, neighbors, sometimes fellow journalists. And yet she continues to show up, camera in hand, voice steady, because she knows the world must not look away.

That persistence — that refusal to be silenced — is an act of defiance. In a world where journalists are often celebrated for awards and access, Bisan’s courage is the kind that carries no promise of recognition, only the daily risk of death.

A Woman Leading in the Face of Obliteration

There’s another layer to Bisan’s story that makes her work even more extraordinary: she is a woman leading in one of the most dangerous places on Earth, not only reporting but shaping the moral narrative of our time.

Women like Bisan are redefining what leadership looks like. They don’t lead from podiums or boardrooms; they lead through presence — through the willingness to witness pain, to tell the truth even when the world tries to drown it out.

She’s part of a lineage of women journalists who have used their voices to hold power accountable — from Marie Colvin and Shireen Abu Akleh to Anna Politkovskaya and Daphne Caruana Galizia.

But what makes Bisan’s presence so singular is that she represents a generation that doesn’t wait for mainstream media validation. She broadcasts directly to millions through social media, cutting out the gatekeepers and forcing the world to confront what many try to sanitize or ignore.

Her courage exists not in theory, but in action. Every video she posts is a risk. Every sentence is a statement of existence: We are still here.

Journalism as Resistance

In Gaza, journalism is not a profession — it’s survival. It’s resistance against erasure. Bisan and her colleagues document not because they have the luxury of curiosity, but because silence is complicity.

More than 150 journalists have been killed in Gaza since the war began — one of the highest death tolls for media workers in modern history. Their cameras, once instruments of documentation, have become shields for truth. And Bisan, somehow, remains alive — though each day could be her last.

Still, she refuses to leave. She has said it many times:

“I will not stop documenting.” Those words are both a promise and a plea — a declaration that even amid rubble, the truth must survive.

Her videos don’t just capture destruction; they reveal humanity. They show mothers clutching children, doctors operating under flashlights, communities breaking bread amid chaos. These aren’t just scenes of war — they are fragments of life, reminders that behind every headline is a heartbeat.

The Price of Bearing Witness

To watch Bisan’s reports is to feel the weight of witnessing. For her, there is no detachment, no editorial distance. The people she films are her people. Their pain is hers. And yet she continues, because she knows that if she stops, the narrative of Gaza will be rewritten by those who never walked its streets.

There is a cost to that kind of courage. Emotional exhaustion. Trauma. The endless grief of watching a world that doesn’t seem to care enough to act. But she pushes forward, fueled by something deeper than duty — by love. Love for her homeland. Love for her people. Love for truth.

And maybe that’s what sets her apart. In a media landscape often driven by spectacle, Bisan’s work is rooted in compassion. She doesn’t show suffering to shock; she shows it to humanize. To make sure the world cannot look away and claim ignorance.

The Hypocrisy of Recognition

So yes — if the world had any moral consistency, Bisan Owda would already have a Nobel Prize. But the truth is, such recognition often comes too late, or not at all, for those who challenge empire. The Nobel Peace Prize has long been awarded within the comfort zones of geopolitics — to figures palatable to the West, to causes that flatter power more than confront it.

But courage doesn’t need a certificate. And if awards were truly about peace, then they would honor those who fight for truth when silence is safer. They would honor Bisan.

In many ways, Bisan represents the contradiction of our era: a woman journalist whose work is globally recognized online, yet largely ignored by the very institutions that claim to celebrate freedom of the press. The same governments that fund wars release statements about press freedom. The same networks that air her footage often fail to credit her name.

She doesn’t need their validation — but the world needs her voice.

A Testament to Women’s Strength

Bisan’s story isn’t only about journalism; it’s about womanhood under siege. It’s about what it means to hold space for grief while continuing to create. To nurture life, even as bombs fall. To speak when everything around you is collapsing.

In her, we see the universal strength of women who carry communities through crisis — mothers, sisters, healers, fighters. Women who rebuild not because they want to, but because they have to.

When we at The Women Post talk about women’s leadership, this is what we mean. Leadership that isn’t about dominance or hierarchy, but about presence, empathy, and endurance. Leadership that says: I will not turn away.

What the World Owes Her

Every time Bisan goes live, she risks everything. And yet, millions of people around the world wait for her updates — not because they want to consume tragedy, but because they trust her. She’s become a moral compass for a generation learning to question narratives.

We owe her more than admiration. We owe her amplification. We owe her safety. We owe her action — political, humanitarian, moral. Because what good is watching her courage if we do nothing with what she shows us?

Beyond Survival

The most powerful thing about Bisan is not that she’s surviving — it’s that she’s living through her work. She’s shaping history, turning pain into purpose. One day, when this war is over, her footage will be the archive of truth — a record that no one can erase.

And when future generations look back and ask who told the story of Gaza when the world turned its back, they will find her name.

Keep Her Name Loud

If anyone deserves a Nobel Prize, it’s Bisan Owda. But whether or not she ever receives one, she has already earned something far greater: the trust of her people and the respect of anyone who believes in truth.

Her courage reminds us that journalism, at its best, is not about neutrality — it’s about humanity. It’s about standing with the oppressed, even when it costs everything.

So keep her name loud. Keep her story alive. Because as long as Bisan is still breathing, the truth is still being told.

To every woman watching from across the world — mothers, journalists, artists, students — remember Bisan’s light. Remember that courage is not the absence of fear; it is the decision to act anyway.

Stand with her. Speak truth where you are. Refuse silence. Because if her voice can rise from the rubble, then ours can rise from comfort.

May we never take our safety for granted while others risk everything just to be heard.

May we never forget her name.

And may every woman who dares to speak truth — like Bisan Owda — know that she is not alone.