Opinion | My Heart Remains Captive in Gaza

On Oct.7, 2023, my freedom, security and peace were brutally taken from me.

That day, I was kidnapped from my home in Kibbutz Nir Oz.The rolling fields and beautiful farmland of our kibbutz turned into a battlefield as hordes of terrorists raided our homes, murdering, kidnapping, burning and looting.

A quarter of the community that I was a part of for 56 years was either murdered or kidnapped.I am 86 years old; in my life, I had never experienced this sort of horror.When the terrorists arrived at my house, it was Saturday morning.

I was in my pajamas.I lived alone.

They came into my home with guns pointed at me; I couldn’t escape.It was in the early stages of the attack.

At first they wanted money.I took them to my bag in the bedroom and told them to take it, but then they wanted me, too.

They forced me outside, where I saw many terrorists sweeping through the kibbutz and entering through the broken fence.I saw them looting and breaking everything — throwing all the clothes out of the closets, cutting everything up, breaking and stealing things.My captors held my arms as they sat me on a golf cart, and we drove off toward the border with Gaza.

I held myself together, for my children’s sake.I told myself I wouldn’t let them break me.

I wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing me afraid.I didn’t cry.

When they pointed a camera at my face, I smiled.That image was broadcast around the world.

I was not going to give them the satisfaction of terrorizing me.All I knew during my abduction was that there were swarms of terrorists.Some of them had gone into my daughter’s house at the same time.

I only learned later, when I was with other hostages from Nir Oz, that my kibbutz was set on fire, and that while this was happening, Tamir, my eldest grandson, age 38, had left his wife and two young children in their family safe room and gone out to defend the community.We would only find out many months later that he was kidnapped and murdered.

His body re...