Before October 7, I was an immigrant. I lived in the U.S. with a heart that ached for home—not just for Israel as a place, but for the deep sense of belonging I had left behind. I longed for the land, for the air, for the feeling of being surrounded by people who understood me without explanation. I was Israeli abroad, Jewish in a world where being Jewish often felt complicated. I lived between two worlds, but I didn’t fully belong to either.
Then October 7 happened. And in a single, devastating moment, everything changed. The pain was not mine alone—it belonged to all of us, a wound that cut across time zones and borders, binding the Jewish people together in ways I had never experienced before. Suddenly, those of us who had spent years living parallel lives in different corners of the world became a family. The differences that once separated us—language, culture, lifestyle—became insignificant in the face of a shared truth: we are one people, and our suffering knows no distance.
I found that our pain was collective. And I realized something even more profound: the more the world hates us, the stronger we become. The more they try to break us, the more we cling to our identity. I grew up in a traditional Jewish home, but I was never deeply connected to the religious side of my heritage. Yet since that day, I have found myself drawn to it, learning how much my Jewish identity truly means to me. It’s ironic—the world holds up a mirror, telling us who we are, and in response, we don’t shatter under the weight of their lies; we grow. We evolve. We strengthen our spiritual identity, our connection to history, our understanding of what it truly means to be Jewish. The world tells me a story about myself that I never knew—one where I am a “white colonizer”—and I can’t help but laugh. Most Israelis come from the Middle East and North Africa, their families having been expelled, persecuted, and forced to flee from the very same Arab countries that now demonize us. But the world doesn’t care about history. Truth has never mattered to them.
October 7 was a day of unimaginable horror. But in its wake, we found something powerful: a family. A community that stands together and fights for the truth. A people who refuse to be afraid, who claim their right to exist, to define themselves, and to hold onto the one tiny piece of land in the world that is truly theirs. So thank you—to all of you who have become family.
Speaking of family, Family Day is coming up soon. If you’re looking for a fun way to connect and bond with your loved ones, I highly recommend this fun, lighthearted family trivia book full of silly and thought-provoking questions that will help you see your family in a whole new way. 💙
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