Defying Displacement: A Palestinian’s Response to U.S. Takeover Plan

In the heart of Khan Younis, amid the ruins of the al-Katiba neighborhood, 72-year-old Fathi Abu al-Saeed walks the streets with his wooden cane, a symbol of resilience in a landscape scarred by war. After returning from displacement following the January 19 ceasefire, he surveys the devastation left by months of relentless bombardment. He gestures towards a demolished house and declares, “That rubble is more precious than the United States and everything in it.”

Surrounded by children—some his own grandchildren and others from displaced families—Abu al-Saeed shares his unwavering belief in his homeland. For many in Gaza, returning means rebuilding, even among ruins. Conversations among neighbors reflect a collective defiance, further fueled by recent comments from former U.S. President Donald Trump. His suggestion to displace Palestinians and transform Gaza into a luxury destination has sparked widespread outrage.

“Trump talks like he’s a king handing out land,” Abu al-Saeed scoffs. “Maybe he should find another place for his allies and leave Gaza alone.” Trump’s remarks, which implied the U.S. could "take over" the territory, were met with condemnation globally. While U.S. officials later softened the language, suggesting temporary relocation for Palestinians, the proposal remains detached from the realities on the ground.

For over a year, Israeli bombardments have left more than 60 percent of Gaza’s infrastructure in ruins. Billions in military aid have bolstered Israel’s actions, deepening the suffering of civilians. Abu al-Saeed dismisses Trump’s ideas as absurd. “This is the talk of a madman,” he says. “A man who knows nothing about homeland, struggle, or pride.”

Displacement is not just a political issue for Abu al-Saeed; it is deeply personal. His father was forced out of Jaffa in 1948, his mother’s family expelled from Sarafand. Today, he sees history repeating itself. “We know what it means to lose everything,” he says. “But we also know what it means to hold on.”

Despite war and destruction, 90 percent of Gaza’s 2.3 million people remain committed to their land. They return to rubble, salvaging what they can, refusing to leave. “Even under genocide, we stayed,” Abu al-Saeed states firmly. “This is not about having nowhere else to go—it is our homeland. Every brick here is worth more than anything the U.S. can offer.”

Trump’s pressure on neighboring countries to absorb Gaza’s population has been widely rejected, even by regional allies. “He must think Gaza is a hotel he can shut down,” Abu al-Saeed laughs. “But this is our land, not a real estate project.”

Sitting on a pile of debris, he turns to his 10-year-old grandson, asking what he thinks of Trump’s relocation plan. The boy bursts into laughter. “Is he crazy or just stupid? Gaza is part of Palestine!”

The children around him echo the sentiment, their voices strong: “Who leaves their home? We will stay, rebuild, and fight for it.”

Abu al-Saeed smiles. “There’s your answer, Trump. Even our children know better than you.”

The war has killed tens of thousands, including over 17,400 children, leaving countless orphans. Yet, despite starvation, bombings, and relentless suffering, Palestinians refuse to leave. “They destroy, they starve us, and then they expect us to disappear?” he asks. “That will never happen.”

He stands firm, his voice unwavering. “For Trump, like for Netanyahu, the only solution is for Palestinians to vanish. But we will not.”