This is who we are. A man in a white T-shirt. Not a terrorist with a gun.

Thank you, Ahmed al Ahmed, for shining a bright light on the darkest of days.

The whole world is talking about you today. And with those words, and with that energy, they are reminding us where to look.

Ahmed is "white T-shirt guy" — the man who crept up behind an anti-semitic terrorist, and took his gun.

In that act of almost unthinkable bravery, just for a moment, we saw hatred disarmed. Challenged. Humiliated.

There will be many images that come to define what happened at sunset in Bondi, on December 14, 2025.

The faces of the victims, whose names and stories we will learn today. A little girl only 10 years old, and another who was 87. Fifteen innocent people who lost their lives to hate yesterday in one of the safest countries on the planet.

There are videos and stills of terrified onlookers shivering with fear, and of determined first responders sprinting towards hell, and there are scrolls and scrolls of imagery of the unthinkable injuries of those who survived.

The inevitable result of a phone camera in every hand is a deluge of documentation when the most terrible "news" interrupts an ordinary Sunday night. A religious celebration of joy, and the kind of perfect evening that brings Sydneysiders — the ones who live here, and the ones who came to see exactly this — to the beach.

There is so much terror in our phones. We will urge our children to look away from the footage that is flooding their feeds today. We will tell them that there is nothing to be gained from seeing horror up close. That the fear it will instill in them is to be pushed away at all costs. That having us afraid and divided is what a terrorist wants. And that we owe dignity and privacy and grace to the people who did not consent for their worst moments to be caught on iPhone.

And we're right to do that.

But there are some images that, perhaps, we should be glad we have seen.

Ahmed al Ahmed, making an unthinkable call. Crouching behind a parked car, making a plan to disarm a terrorist. It's hard to imagine that anyone in that position, in that carpark, in that moment, when this armed man has proven himself capable and willing to murder innocent families in cold blood, would run towards him. Would fight for his gun. Would point it at the killer. Would not shoot.

Except it's not unthinkable. Because Ahmed's act of selfless bravery was being repeated, over and over again, in that park and across that beach yesterday.

Adults shielding children. Surfers using their boards as stretchers. Friends helping friends. Locals opening their doors. And, of course, first responders of all kinds running into danger. Paramedics triaging in unimaginable chaos. Police officers driving ambulances to get more people to the hospital, faster. Surf Lifesavers sprinting between stations for more First Aid supplies.

Some of these people — if hero feels like a hackneyed word, this is its rightful place — paid enormously for their actions.

Ahmed el Ahmed was shot, reportedly in the hand and the arm. The man who came to assist him, also. Two police officers are in critical condition alongside the more than 40 injured in hospitals as the sun came up in Sydney today.

Ahmed is a 43-year-old who runs a tobacco shop in southern Sydney's Sutherland Shire. He is a Muslim man who came to Australia from Syria over a decade ago. He is the father of two little girls. And he is a symbol of the ordinary, good people who, on this terrible night, had the course of their lives changed by the murderous actions of two men who could never be them.

It is important that we see this footage. That it travels, even in its pain, so we see the absolute best of humanity on clear display in such stark relief so close to the worst.

Ahmed might choose to tell us, as heroes sometimes do, that he doesn't know why he made that choice. For the first responders, this job they do is perhaps a calling. But it is also a choice. A choice that says no. You will not take all this from us. Our right to celebrate faith in peace. Our hope for a holy season. The beauty of this place on this day. This sunset. This summer. Our safety. Our loved ones. Our children.

The power of one man in a white T-shirt coming between a terrorist and his victims is being shown around the world as an example of how Australia — a country where mass shootings are almost unheard of — conducts itself in the face of terror.

And it's a terrible, beautiful thing to be proud of, on the saddest of days.

How to help following the Bondi Beach shooting.

In the aftermath of the Bondi Beach shooting, many people are searching for meaningful ways to help during the incredibly distressing time. If you're able:

• You can support victims and their families by donating to verified GoFundMe fundraisers established in response to the attack here.

• By giving blood at your nearest Australian Red Cross Lifeblood centre, to help those receiving medical care. Find your nearest donation centre here.

• You can also pay your respects and share messages of support via the NSW Government's Online Condolence Book, which offers comfort and solidarity to those affected. You can sign the book here.

Feature image: Supplied.