🔗 Share this article Two Long Years After the 7th of October: As Animosity Became The Norm – The Reason Humanity Is Our Best Hope It started during that morning looking entirely routine. I rode with my husband and son to collect a furry companion. Everything seemed steady – before everything changed. Checking my device, I discovered reports from the border. I dialed my mother, anticipating her calm response explaining they were secure. Silence. My parent didn't respond either. Then, my brother answered – his speech already told me the terrible truth before he said anything. The Developing Nightmare I've seen countless individuals on television whose worlds were destroyed. Their expressions revealing they hadn't yet processed their loss. Now it was me. The torrent of tragedy were building, and the debris remained chaotic. My child glanced toward me from his screen. I moved to reach out separately. Once we got to the station, I saw the brutal execution of a woman from my past – a senior citizen – as it was streamed by the militants who took over her home. I remember thinking: "None of our friends could live through this." At some point, I witnessed recordings showing fire bursting through our family home. Nonetheless, for days afterward, I refused to accept the home had burned – until my brothers provided visual confirmation. The Fallout Getting to the city, I contacted the kennel owner. "A war has erupted," I told them. "My parents are probably dead. My community was captured by attackers." The return trip involved trying to contact loved ones while also shielding my child from the awful footage that circulated through networks. The scenes from that day were beyond all comprehension. Our neighbor's young son captured by armed militants. My mathematics teacher driven toward Gaza using transportation. Individuals circulated Telegram videos that defied reality. A senior community member also taken across the border. A young mother accompanied by her children – kids I recently saw – seized by armed terrorists, the horror apparent in her expression paralyzing. The Agonizing Delay It felt endless for assistance to reach our community. Then began the painful anticipation for information. In the evening, one photograph appeared of survivors. My family were not among them. Over many days, as friends helped forensic teams locate the missing, we combed online platforms for evidence of our loved ones. We encountered torture and mutilation. We never found visual evidence about Dad – no indication concerning his ordeal. The Developing Reality Eventually, the reality grew more distinct. My aged family – along with 74 others – were taken hostage from our kibbutz. Dad had reached 83 years, Mom was 85. During the violence, 25 percent of the residents were killed or captured. After more than two weeks, my parent left confinement. Prior to leaving, she glanced behind and offered a handshake of her captor. "Peace," she uttered. That moment – a simple human connection amid unimaginable horror – was shared globally. Over 500 days following, my parent's physical presence were returned. He died just two miles from where we lived. The Ongoing Pain These tragedies and their documentation still terrorize me. All subsequent developments – our determined activism to free prisoners, my father's horrific end, the persistent violence, the devastation in Gaza – has worsened the original wound. My mother and father remained peace activists. My mother still is, similar to other loved ones. We recognize that hate and revenge don't offer even momentary relief from our suffering. I share these thoughts amid sorrow. As time passes, talking about what happened becomes more difficult, rather than simpler. The kids of my friends remain hostages with the burden of the aftermath feels heavy. The Internal Conflict In my mind, I term focusing on the trauma "navigating the pain". We've become accustomed sharing our story to fight for hostage release, despite sorrow remains a luxury we don't have – after 24 months, our campaign endures. Not one word of this account serves as support for conflict. I continuously rejected this conflict since it started. The people in the territory endured tragedy unimaginably. I'm shocked by leadership actions, yet emphasizing that the organization shouldn't be viewed as innocent activists. Because I know their actions that day. They betrayed their own people – creating pain for all through their deadly philosophy. The Social Divide Telling my truth with those who defend the attackers' actions feels like dishonoring the lost. The people around me confronts unprecedented antisemitism, while my community there has campaigned versus leadership throughout this period facing repeated disappointment multiple times. Looking over, the ruin of the territory can be seen and visceral. It shocks me. Simultaneously, the ethical free pass that numerous people seem to grant to the organizations creates discouragement.