The white coat. The keffiyeh. The flag underneath.
Three uniforms, one person. That's the whole story of Gaza's medical workers, and this shirt tells it in a single frame.
The white coat is the profession — a uniform recognized in every hospital on earth, a symbol of the oath taken to treat whoever walks through the door. The keffiyeh lining the coat is the culture — the identity they never took off to become doctors, the thread that ties them to the grandmother in the refugee camp and the child in the classroom and every Palestinian who came before. The flag beneath both is the truth they refused to hide: they are not just doctors who happen to be Palestinian. They are Palestinian doctors. The two things aren't separable, and pretending they are was always a request for their disappearance.
"some heroes wear white" sits quietly on the lapel, the size of a name embroidered on a scrub top. Small on purpose. This isn't a slogan — it's a fact, murmured in the language nurses and residents use with each other. The kind of thing you'd only notice if you were close enough to read someone's ID badge.
The design leaves the head blank. Not because they didn't have faces, but because there were too many. Fill in whoever you're thinking about — Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, Dr. Adnan Al-Bursh, Dr. Refaat Alareer's colleagues, the ones whose names never made it onto a news graphic. The coat fits all of them.
Wear it to your shift. Wear it under your own white coat. Wear it in any room where "hero" gets thrown around cheaply — and let the shirt raise the standard.
راجعين — we are returning.