As 7 October looms, I will be reposting some of the raw, bleeding tweets I wrote closer to the catastrophe.
This one, a year hence, ends with the words โDonโt you dare police our trauma!โ
But many self-styled pro-Palestinians have done exactly that, spitting on our tears. As if pain, fear and grief are only legit on the Gazan side.
And our own government has abused our trauma to the core, squandering most of the worldโs empathy.
โ ๏ธtough content alert.
On October 7th 2023 I was in a meditation retreat in the mountains of Rajastan. My sister in law, a meditation teacher, took me there to help me find, so she hoped, a different sort of enlightenment.
Around 10AM a first Whatsapp message appeared on my screen. It was on my old kibbutznik friends group. โI am in touch with Dondiโ, Ran wrote dryly. โThe situation is not good.โ
Dondi is an artist from Beโeri. Alone in his safe room, he held the door handle for 18 hours while listening to the murder of over 100 of his kibbutz neighbors, including whole families, and the abduction of dozens more.
During the 4-hours drive to Udaipur airport I watched the videos. Knowing that my two sons were watching everything, with the wild despair of a parent unable to protect her children, I plunged into the Hamas channels and the hijacked FB pages.
I saw a young man beheaded, as he cried and begged.
I saw a family held in their living room for hours, the dead body of the eldest daughter outside the frame, the remaining kids pleading in English with the jeering Hamas men, the latter also outside the frame. The father is still held in Gaza now.
I saw a row of bodies of elderly men and women next to the bus that was taking them on a tour.
I saw dozens of dead bodies on the roads, near smashed cars.
I saw raw footage from the Nova which I am unable to describe.
I saw pictures of peopleโs dead bodies displayed on their own social media pages by their murderers, for friends and family to see.
In between, I watched and read endless celebrations and messages of gleeful joy from Gaza and the Arab and western world.
Then I found flights to take me home.
Getting home the next day, I found Eli and our sons setting up a ladder to the attic space, preparing a hideout in case terrorists arrive. Among many horrific rumors, there were reports of a boat that landed near our town.
Some rumors proved false. Too many were true.
Dondi survived. My experience is nothing compared to his. I admire his mental courage.
Donโt you dare police our trauma.