“I used to live in a place where my mind was at peace, but now everything has changed. I lost all my wedding belongings, my gold is gone, and there’s nothing left in my life. We were forced to get married because we lost everything. There’s no joy, not even after the war.”

This is how Samah Al-Beik, 19, describes her situation. She is one of the many young women who got married during the ongoing war in Gaza. Samah was engaged before the war to her cousin, Wassim, who is five years older than her. They were supposed to celebrate their wedding in November of last year.

Samah says she was forced to get married at this specific time because her father made the decision to ease the burden of her displacement after their home was bombed. “My father asked my fiancé to proceed with the wedding because he could no longer bear the burden of my displacement and moving my belongings,” Samah explains. Her father’s reasoning, as she recalls, was that “she and her husband should be responsible for each other.”

The latest update from the report monitoring registered marriage contracts in Palestine’s Sharia courts for 2022, published in July 2023, indicates that 19,167 contracts were registered in Gaza, compared to 20,575 the year before—a decline less significant than expected, given the ongoing war.

Marriage to Relieve the Burden

Samah tells Daraj that she got married because she had no other choice. The war has forced many to choose marriage, despite the difficult and unsuitable circumstances. “There’s no life, no homes, just displacement and tents,” she says.

Samah received her full dowry and prepared her apartment before the war, but the conflict destroyed everything. Now, all she has left are a few clothes and a tent next to her in-laws’ tent, which serves as their “marital home.”

Like other women displaced by the war, Samah endures the hardships of life in tents. She has suffered two miscarriages due to the exhausting conditions, the daily chores performed with primitive methods, and the lack of food. Now in her third pregnancy, which has been stable, she relies on relatives for help with tasks. She hopes to give birth to her child and that the war would be over by then.

According to medical staff, the miscarriage rate among pregnant women in Gaza has risen during the Israeli war, attributed to factors such as psychological trauma, repeated displacement, malnutrition, and physical exhaustion.

Samah reflects on her father’s decision, saying, “My father asked my fiancé to proceed with the wedding because he could no longer bear the burden of my displacement.” Her father’s reasoning, as she recalls, was that “she and her husband should be responsible for each other.”

No Escape from War or Pregnancy

“I leave everything to God. If it’s meant for me to continue with him, I will. If it’s meant for me to have children with him, I will,” says Baraa Al-Sarsak, summarizing the reality of marriage during the ongoing war in Gaza, which has lasted for nine months.

Many young women are forced into marriage during the war, bearing the weight of this life-changing decision and its emotional consequences with courage. In cases where they become pregnant soon after marriage, they face additional emotional turmoil. Yet they often view this as “fate,” accepting their reality while navigating the fears of war and its impact on their lives and children. They continue living with determination, confronting death and the harsh living conditions of displacement camps.

Baraa, like many other displaced women, got married during the war, foregoing the usual celebrations and traditions associated with weddings during “normal” times in Gaza. Yet despite the absence of joy, she wore a white wedding dress and held a modest wedding in a tent, surrounded by her relatives and those she had met in the displacement camp. For her, this simple wedding was a rare moment of joy or luxury amidst the devastation.

Baraa received none of her basic marital rights—no dowry, no wedding gifts, no home to shelter her—because she accepted the idea that “marriage during war is a way to create some joy amidst death.” Without considering the implications or the responsibilities that come with it, her father encouraged her to marry, as he shared a strong bond with her now-husband.

“This tent isn’t a life for a bride and groom, but we’re patient, waiting for God to make things easier so we can see the life we dreamed of. We dreamed of a better life, to get married in a house, to have a family in a better place,” Baraa concludes, acknowledging that getting married during the war was difficult. After all, she and her husband are living in a tent, not a home.

International humanitarian law mandates special care for pregnant women and mothers of young children, particularly breastfeeding mothers. This includes providing food, clothing, medical assistance, evacuation, and transportation. However, in the current war, with the destruction and scarcity of medicine and food, pregnancy becomes a life-threatening risk for both mother and child.

Women in conflict zones often face separation from their families and endure the agony of not knowing the fate of missing loved ones either during armed conflict or after. Since the majority of those missing in conflicts are men, women frequently bear the burden of searching for missing relatives, especially children who have been separated from them due to the fighting.

Mobile Marriage Courts

Daraj has observed numerous posts and images of weddings taking place in Gaza despite the war and death surrounding them. These weddings are held in shelters, displacement camps, and even among those who remain in their homes.

Some of these posts mention representatives from Sharia courts officiating marriages in mobile tents, with mobile courts set up in three areas: Deir al-Balah, Khan Younis, and Rafah. However, the Rafah court tent was canceled due to the recent ground invasion.

Saeed Al-Mashharawi, a marriage registrar at the Gaza Court, who is now working in Deir al-Balah, tells Daraj that “marriage, like any other human need, remains necessary—like food and drink. At first, weddings were put on hold, waiting for the war to end. But as it dragged on, people began seeking marriage again. They asked the courts to facilitate the process after initially relying on informal marriage contracts, known as the ‘Urfi marriage due to the absence of official documentation.”

Al-Mashharawi adds: “We decided to set up mobile courts affiliated with the Sharia courts in Gaza. Judges took on the responsibility and began processing marriage contracts as usual. People would first go to the local leader, then to the judge who signs the marriage contract, and finally to the marriage registrar to formalize the process. We’re working under war conditions, without our full financial power, and focusing only on two things: consensual marriages and divorces, where both parties agree on all terms. Divorce, in general, is extremely difficult because it requires notifying the other party, and there are no police forces to handle such notifications.”

He emphasizes that “marriages are completed with full consent, and the marriage registrar finalizes the procedures. However, all other legal matters are either halted or nearly suspended. In Deir al-Balah alone, over 1,000 marriage contracts were documented in the past two months. There were also mobile courts in Khan Younis and Rafah, but they are likely to be shut down due to the ongoing ground invasion.”

He adds: “These contracts are 100 percent legal, with official documentation printed from registry records based on previous contracts. The courts have managed to process ‘Urfi marriages to prevent ‘moral chaos.’ This is the fundamental reason people are so keen on legalizing marriages, even under war conditions.”

While images and videos of “weddings amidst war” may appear to show defiance against the conflict in Gaza, they conceal stories of women and girls whose rights are often undermined. Some are forced into marriage as a way to “relieve their burden,” while others are pressured into it against their will. Previous interviews have revealed a sense of resignation among these women, reflected in the words of Samah’s father: “Let them be responsible for each other,” or in the common sentiment that marriage is simply “fate” or a means of survival. These stories expose the violence women face, which only compounds the brutality of a genocidal war.