This Thursday, (22 January), Australia will pause for a National Day of Mourning following the Bondi terrorist attack. For most of the country, it will be a moment of reflection and unity. For me, it will be a day I am still struggling to process.
I was there on that Sunday evening. I ran from the shooters. I heard the screams and saw the fear. It was chaos in one of the most peaceful places in the country. Bondi Beach is my community and my sanctuary. What many people watched unfold on the news, I lived through. I have since spent the past month away from Sydney recalibrating, trying to regain equilibrium and understand the emotional wreckage that settled in the aftermath.
For me, and for many in the Jewish community, this did not just feel like an attack on civilians. It felt like a direct attack on who we are. My grandparents survived the Holocaust and came to Australia to build a life of safety, dignity and opportunity for the generations that followed. They imagined a country where their children and grandchildren would never again feel hunted or hated.
Yet on that Sunday evening, in beautiful Bondi where I swim most days, that generational promise felt broken. It felt too close to home in every possible way.
In the days that followed, I attended the memorial services for eight days in a row (see photos below). What began as a small circle of the grieving grew into thousands. Jewish and non-Jewish. Local and interstate. People from every background, culture and faith standing together, crying together and refusing to let hate define our communities. It mattered. It still matters.
























