I was 15 years old when Iraq invaded my country.
On August 2, 1990, the world I knew changed overnight. Until that moment, I had never thought to question the things that felt most certain: the safety of home, the presence of family and friends, the familiarity of my neighborhood, or simply knowing where I belonged. The invasion shattered those certainties and, in doing so, revealed how deeply our sense of who we are is rooted in our country, its people, our communities, and one another.
In the months that followed, the very identity and sense of belonging the invasion sought to take from us became a source of strength. It lived throughout Kuwait: in the men and women who chose resistance over surrender, in families who became one another’s shelter, and in communities that shared what little remained. The occupation may have taken control of our land, but it never took control of us.
That resolve was strengthened by the knowledge that Kuwait did not stand alone. Under President George H.W. Bush’s leadership, the United States built an extraordinary global coalition to defend Kuwait’s sovereignty and uphold international law, while Kuwait’s leadership worked tirelessly across capitals to mobilize international support.
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Americans and citizens of more than 30 nations left their families and crossed oceans to serve in a part of the world many had never seen, standing shoulder to shoulder with Kuwait’s armed forces, united in a common purpose. The courage that brought them there, and the service and sacrifice that followed, became inseparable from our story of liberation.
On October 24, when the National Desert Shield and Desert Storm Memorial is unveiled in Washington, D.C., that story will take permanent form, preserving a defining chapter in the shared history of Kuwait and the United States, and with it, the eternal gratitude of the Kuwaiti people.
The passage of time makes that permanence all the more important. For those of us who lived through the invasion and liberation, the memories remain vivid long after the headlines have faded, and the events have entered the pages of history. We remember the people we lost, the first moments of liberation, and the overwhelming realization that our country was, once again, free. But as time passes, we must entrust those memories to those who follow.
Generations of Kuwaitis and Americans have now grown up decades removed from the events of 1990 and 1991. This memorial bridges the distance between history lived and history inherited, creating a space where young Kuwaitis, young Americans and visitors from around the world can connect with the past, honor those who served and take its most valuable lesson to heart: what nations and people can mean to one another when it matters most.
For Kuwait and the United States, that meaning did not end with liberation. The bonds formed through shared sacrifice became the foundation of a friendship that has deepened over 35 years. Our relationship has grown far beyond the battlefield, spanning diplomacy, security, defense, education, humanitarian action, trade and investment. What was forged in crisis has been carried forward through peace.
Yet today, that history reminds us of what remains at stake. In a world marked by uncertainty and instability, the principles that protect the sovereignty of nations remain as consequential as ever. Kuwait knows the terrible cost of conflict. But we also know that when nations stand together in defense of those principles, freedom can be restored and friendships forged in adversity can endure.
Thirty-five years later, when I stand before this memorial, I will think of the 15-year-old girl I once was. She could never have imagined that one day she would stand in Washington as Kuwait’s Ambassador to the United States, before a memorial honoring the men and women whose courage restored her faith in a world beyond her own, and who stood in defense of what we all value most: country, community, friendship and belonging.
But the story does not end here. It now passes to those who come after us, who will stand before this memorial long after we are gone. And when they do, I hope they will understand not only the history carved in stone, but the monumental meaning of what it represents: the resilience of a people, the bravery of those who served, the friendships that time cannot erase, and a lasting reminder of what is possible when the principles of international law and justice prevail.
Sheikha Al-Zain Al-Sabah is ambassador of the State of Kuwait to the United States.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.