Mohsen Mahdawi grew up surrounded by violence. As a third-generation refugee in the al-Fari'ah camp in the West Bank, he witnessed the unimaginable. His best friend was killed in front of him. He was shot at 15. His uncle was murdered. Two cousins were killed in the Second Intifada, and four more since October 7th. “The experience itself is a story,” he says. “An experience that no human should be treated this way.”
The trauma is not just personal; it is generational. His family was expelled from their home in 1948, forced into a refugee camp of 63 acres with 10,000 people. He grew up in a place so dense that there was no space for a garden, no view of the sea his great-grandfather knew. The psychological toll of this existence is immense. Studies show that Palestinian children suffer from staggering rates of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), with some research indicating that over 50% of children in Gaza had PTSD even before the most recent conflict [1][2]. For refugees, who have been forcibly displaced, the rates of depression, anxiety, and PTSD are even higher [3].
This is the reality that could easily turn someone to hatred and revenge. “I had serious anger before,” Mahdawi admits. “And rightfully so.” But instead, he chose a different path.
During the pandemic, Mahdawi committed to a year of intensive trauma therapy, meeting with his therapist twice a week to process the horrors of his childhood. But it was his discovery of Buddhism and a daily meditation practice that provided him with the tools to regulate his emotions and transform his pain. “It taught me how to regulate my emotions and feelings,” he explains. “I ensure that I am coming out to the world from a loving place, not from a reactive place.”
This is not about forgetting or forgiving the injustice. It’s about not being “enslaved” to the feelings of oppression. Research has consistently shown that meditation and mindfulness are effective tools for mitigating the symptoms of PTSD [4][5]. By creating a space for healing, Mahdawi is able to hold his pain and his truth, and share it with his oppressors in a way that invites connection rather than conflict. “I want you to feel my pain,” he says. “I want you to come and touch it.”
This practice sustained him even through 16 days of detention by ICE. He would meditate in his cell, finding a sense of presence and peace amidst the uncertainty. His journey is a powerful testament to the human capacity for resilience, and a profound example of how ancient wisdom can provide a path to healing in the face of modern-day atrocities.
[1] The Lancet Psychiatry. (2024). Addressing the mental health crisis among children in Gaza.
https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lanpsy/article/PIIS2215-0366(24)00036-1/fulltext
[2] PubMed. (2025). Prevalence and Severity of PTSD Among Children.
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/40810006/
[3] American Psychiatric Association. Mental Health Facts on Refugees, Asylum-seekers, & Survivors of Forced Displacement.
[4] PMC. (2024 ). Effectiveness of Meditation Techniques in Treating Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11678240/
[5] PMC. (2021 ). Mindfulness as a Mediator between Trauma Exposure and Mental Health.
https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8500672/
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