The Paris 2024 Olympics saw around 10,500 athletes compete. Some were chasing gold and glory, while others competed because they had made it to arguably the greatest sporting event in the world. And then there were a select few such as Yazan Al Bawwab and Valerie Tarazi, who were there to prove to the world that Palestinians still exist — even as their homeland was being obliterated some 3,300 kilometres from the French capital.

The eight-member Palestinian contingent was a tangible representation to the world that Palestine continues to stand despite decades of apartheid and systemic erasure.

The Olympics can be viewed as a microcosm of the real world seen through the lens of sports, and an apt representation of where people come from and the values they hold. The Palestinian contingent was received warmly in Paris by those who understood the gravity of them competing despite the circumstances back home.

“We were welcomed by humanitarians, by people who see us as normal human beings,” Yazan said.

Valerie drove home the same point, which Palestinians across the globe have been emphasising since October 7 and well before that.

“We’re people, we’re normal human beings, we’re not just a number,” she said. “And we don’t want a war, just like everyone else in the world doesn’t want a war.”

Thousands of athletes in Paris came from poverty-stricken, economically ruined and politically unstable countries; few were from regions where all those factors have been further compounded by an armed conflict. So for the eight Palestinian-origin athletes to show up and compete despite the circumstances in their motherland was a testament to the Olympic spirit of unity.

Their Olympic experience was at times dotted with bitter words, but as the two swimmers emphasised, they hadn’t travelled all the way to Paris to wallow in the hatred of a handful — especially when thousands were cheering them on.

“We didn’t focus on that (negativity) because our little bit of struggle against [some] people not wanting us there was nothing compared to what Palestinians have to face every single day — especially those in Gaza,” Valerie said.

The irony of competing in France was not lost on the Palestinian athletes since France doesn’t recognise Palestine as a state. “It’s a weird situation where sports allows us to compete under a flag that isn’t even a flag in the [host] country,” Yazan said.

Yazan’s advocacy and Palestinian pride were embodied in an iconic photo of him taken after his 100m backstroke event in which he had a Palestinian flag on his chest as he raised a peace sign.

Sport has allowed them to make sense of the world, and the journey to the Olympics taught them how much power it holds when you use it to amplify your message.

As some of the most outspoken Palestinian athletes, their presence at the Olympics was almost historic against the backdrop of the humanitarian crisis created in Gaza by Israel’s onslaught. The duo were closely followed by the media in Paris — not in anticipation for their results but because of their unwavering advocacy for equal rights and opportunities for Palestinians.

Yazan knows sports has given him everything. “If I wasn’t an Olympic swimmer, you wouldn’t listen to me. I’d just be a normal Palestinian.

“I have a voice because I’m a swimmer, because I’m an aerospace engineer because I’m a business owner. If I wasn’t, I would just be a number, like the rest of the people in Gaza. They’re just a number.

“How many people have died? 40,000? 100,000? They’re just numbers. No, they don’t have voices. They don’t have personalities.

“Nobody gives them the right to do anything. So I am fighting with what I do, with my education, with my sports. I have to do this, or I’ll just be a number.”

Yazan has never taken for granted the sheer luck of being born into a life of privilege courtesy of his father’s hard work. If anything, it’s shaped how he gives back to his people when everything has been taken away from them.

“If Palestinians were given equal opportunity like everybody else, we would be better than them. But we have no opportunity.

“Nobody will help us to be educated. Nobody will help us with work and in life. Nobody will help us leave the country.”

His father’s migration from Palestine to Italy — where he built himself from scratch and provided for his family — has shaped Yazan’s philosophy that “nobody’s going to help you unless you help yourself.”

The 24-year-old Saudi-born two-time Olympian has lived and trained in Dubai, Canada, the Netherlands and the UK, but never in Palestine, which makes for a bittersweet identity crisis wrapped in gratitude.

Every time he’s taken the stage as a swimmer, especially on a massive global stage like the Olympics, he’s had to navigate the politics of knowing what to say, when to say it, what to hold back on and how much he’s being observed — all because he’s a Palestinian, which today, more than ever, stands as a symbol of resistance and controversy in equal measure just as much as it is an identity.

“Am I an athlete? Am I a spokesperson? Am I doing this for me, for my family, for my country? These were all things I had to learn. It made me who I am today.

“And when I learnt that I’m very powerful in what I say, I took the opportunity from what I have from sports, from my humanitarian way of looking at the situation, and turned it into wanting to swim and represent Palestine.”

If anything, Yazan used the glory of the Olympics to speak up for what he believes in rather than being silenced.

Being at the Olympics wasn’t about setting a new personal best time or breaking national records, although both the swimmers have plenty of the latter. It’s because sports is the only fair playing field in the world, Yazan explained. “It allows us to live and compete equally.”

It’s why he launched SwimHope Palestine — an initiative to provide young children in Palestinian refugee communities with basic swimming and life-saving skills.

Yazan is also an International Olympic Committee (IOC) Young Leader, an IOC mentor, founder of the Palestine Olympians Association and recipient of the prestigious Medal of Honour, awarded by the president of Palestine for his achievements in and beyond sports.

Meanwhile, Valerie’s dissertation on delivering aid to crisis areas was driven by the humanitarian crisis happening in Gaza. The Illinois-born swimmer always reflects on the opportunities she had growing up, especially when juxtaposed with family members in Gaza living in the absence of almost everything she had.

Similar to many Palestinians who grew up outside of their homeland, much of Valerie’s life has been about giving back to those who don’t have much. Her work with Play Ball Puerto Rico — a non-profit that delivers baseball equipment to disaster-stricken areas — has inspired her to develop her own organisation aimed at promoting peace through sport.

“Obviously swimming is something that I’m very passionate about, and now I want to bring sport to areas of the world that don’t have this privilege.”

As is common among many athletes, Valerie is hypercritical of her own performance in the pool. Despite setting a personal best time in the 200m IM in Paris, she was hoping to go around four seconds faster. Still, “a win is a win” since her 2:20.56 was the fastest time ever swam by an Arab girl.

In addition to juggling a PhD, training and advocacy efforts, Valerie was recently named chair of the Gender Equity Committee for the Olympic Council of Asia.

“I’m super, super excited to be working with them. It’s a great organisation to be a part of, and I think my role in sports has truly just begun.”