Two Years Since the 7th of October: When Animosity Turned Into Fashion – The Reason Humanity Remains Our Sole Hope

It began on a morning appearing perfectly normal. I was traveling with my husband and son to welcome a new puppy. Life felt steady – then reality shattered.

Glancing at my screen, I noticed reports concerning the frontier. I called my mother, expecting her reassuring tone saying everything was fine. No answer. My father didn't respond either. Then, my brother answered – his speech already told me the terrible truth prior to he said anything.

The Developing Horror

I've witnessed countless individuals on television whose lives were destroyed. Their gaze showing they hadn't yet processed what they'd lost. Now it was me. The floodwaters of tragedy were building, amid the destruction remained chaotic.

My child watched me over his laptop. I shifted to reach out separately. By the time we reached the station, I encountered the terrible killing of my childhood caregiver – almost 80 years old – as it was streamed by the attackers who took over her home.

I remember thinking: "Not one of our loved ones could live through this."

Later, I viewed videos revealing blazes consuming our house. Nonetheless, for days afterward, I couldn't believe the home had burned – until my brothers provided images and proof.

The Aftermath

Upon arriving at the station, I called the puppy provider. "Hostilities has begun," I explained. "My family may not survive. Our neighborhood was captured by attackers."

The ride back consisted of searching for community members and at the same time shielding my child from the awful footage that spread through networks.

The images from that day exceeded any possible expectation. A child from our community taken by multiple terrorists. My former educator transported to Gaza using transportation.

Friends sent digital recordings that defied reality. A senior community member likewise abducted across the border. My friend's daughter and her little boys – boys I knew well – seized by armed terrorists, the terror in her eyes stunning.

The Agonizing Delay

It seemed endless for the military to come our community. Then commenced the agonizing wait for updates. Later that afternoon, a lone picture appeared showing those who made it. My mother and father weren't there.

Over many days, as friends assisted investigators identify victims, we searched the internet for evidence of those missing. We encountered torture and mutilation. We didn't discover recordings showing my parent – no evidence about his final moments.

The Unfolding Truth

Gradually, the situation became clearer. My aged family – together with dozens more – became captives from their home. Dad had reached 83 years, my other parent was elderly. Amid the terror, 25 percent of the residents were killed or captured.

After more than two weeks, my mother was released from captivity. Before departing, she looked back and shook hands of the guard. "Shalom," she said. That moment – an elemental act of humanity during unspeakable violence – was broadcast globally.

More than sixteen months later, my father's remains were returned. He was killed a short distance from where we lived.

The Continuing Trauma

These tragedies and the visual proof remain with me. The two years since – our desperate campaign to free prisoners, my parent's awful death, the continuing conflict, the tragedy in the territory – has worsened the initial trauma.

Both my parents remained peace activists. My mother still is, like most of my family. We recognize that hate and revenge don't offer any comfort from our suffering.

I share these thoughts amid sorrow. Over the months, discussing these events grows harder, instead of improving. The young ones from my community remain hostages with the burden of what followed remains crushing.

The Internal Conflict

To myself, I term remembering what happened "navigating the pain". We typically telling our experience to fight for hostage release, though grieving feels like privilege we don't have – now, our campaign persists.

No part of this account is intended as endorsement of violence. I continuously rejected this conflict from day one. The people of Gaza have suffered unimaginably.

I'm shocked by leadership actions, while maintaining that the militants shouldn't be viewed as peaceful protesters. Since I witnessed their atrocities on October 7th. They betrayed the population – causing pain for all because of their deadly philosophy.

The Social Divide

Telling my truth with people supporting the attackers' actions feels like failing the deceased. My community here experiences growing prejudice, and our people back home has campaigned against its government throughout this period while experiencing betrayal repeatedly.

Across the fields, the destruction in Gaza is visible and painful. It shocks me. At the same time, the moral carte blanche that many seem to grant to the organizations creates discouragement.