It was only Sunday morning when Emily Damari, Doron Steinbrecher, and Romi Gonen were told by their kidnappers that they were to be released in a few hours. For 471 days, they lived in the shadows – confined to underground spaces, surrounded by fear, and clinging to one another for survival.
“When they told us we were going home, we didn’t believe it,” Doron admitted, as reported by Israeli media after her release. It was January 19, and the three women had just been handed over to the Red Cross amid a chaotic, hostile crowd in Gaza. For months, they had dared not imagine this moment.
Much of their captivity was spent underground, cut off from sunlight and a sense of time. According to their families, they often moved together, transferred between hiding places above and below ground. In these grim conditions, they formed an unbreakable bond.
“Romi became my lifeline,” Emily later shared. A trained medic, Romi tended to Emily’s injuries – a leg wound and two fingers lost to gunfire during the October 7 massacre. Without anesthesia, Romi performed medical procedures that saved Emily’s life.
Doron, separated from them for much of their time in captivity, described her isolation. “There were days I thought I’d never see them again,” she said. Yet, even apart, the three women drew strength from the thought of their shared resilience.
Though a moment of triumph, their release was not without its share of horror. Before handing them over, Hamas staged a despicable “ceremony,” forcing the three young heroes to pose for photos with “gift bags” filled with disturbing mementos of their captivity.
The bags contained maps of Gaza, photographs of the women during their confinement, and certificates of release signed by the Red Cross. “It felt like a final act of cruelty,” Doron explained to her family. “They wanted to turn our suffering into their propaganda.”
When the three women finally crossed back into Israel, their first moments of freedom were marked by tears, embraces, and disbelief. At a military facility, their families watched the reunion with raw emotion. Emily, her hand heavily bandaged, waved to loved ones on a video call. Her smile was so surprising, and so was her strength. Her hand has become a symbol: Artists and social media influencers created memes or even artwork, showing her hand, missing two fingers, as a sign of defeating obstacles and surviving against all odds.
“We didn’t know if she was alive,” said her friend Guy Kleinberger on Sunday, according to Reuters. “Seeing her walk on her own two feet was a miracle.”
'An entire nation embraces you'
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu spoke for the nation: “Romi, Doron, Emily – an entire nation embraces you.” Yes, the nation embraced these three wonders, but in a sense, it felt like they were embracing us and smiling, standing tall, being cool, and proving they were created from the strongest material anyone could imagine.
Throughout their captivity, the women had been exposed to news broadcasts, allowing them to follow their families’ struggles for their release. “We saw your fight,” they told their families upon their return. But the broadcasts also brought devastating news.
“We learned about the October 7 massacre,” said Emily, a British-Israeli citizen, her voice heavy with grief. “We understood our families survived, but we also discovered we had lost so many friends.”
There are so many things we can, and actually need to, learn from these three exceptional women: Their generation, Gen Z, isn’t only about uploading silly videos to TikTok. They aren’t only into expensive brands and cafés. On the contrary, what these young individuals, and their entire generation, have gone through is remarkable, proving something I’ve realized in the past few months: They are the ones who should, and will, rebuild our country and our nation. They are the ones who see Israel in ways we, the older generations, cannot see it.
This is the generation that experienced the COVID-19 pandemic as teenagers, forcing them to do the opposite of what teenagers want to do – stay at home and distance themselves from their friends. This generation probably didn’t have an overnight school trip in their senior year or participate in a physical graduation ceremony. They’ve also spent most of the past year and few months serving their country.
So many of them immediately hopped on an airplane when they heard that Israel was under attack, abandoning their traditional post-army trip to Eastern countries. This is a generation of twentysomethings who have been to more funerals in the past 15 months than some of us have for their entire lifetime – definitely more than they should have been. These are youngsters who were forced to grow up. This isn’t something they chose but it just proved why they are the ones who should be showing us the way forward, not us, as adults – as in most Western cultures.
On Wednesday evening, it was proven again that these young Israelis are so focused and talented, as well as traumatized, that they can achieve anything. Yuval Raphael, a 24-year-old from Ra’anana, was chosen to represent Israel in the Eurovision Song Contest 2025. When she told her personal story during the auditions, she caused every person in the audience to cry.
Yuval never imagined her life would become a story that deeply intertwined tragedy and overcoming it. She is a survivor of the Nova music festival massacre. She spent eight hours under dozens of lifeless bodies, playing dead as grenades exploded and bullets rained around her. “I remember the rhythm of the shooting; boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,” she said in one of the episodes of the reality TV show through which Israel’s candidate is chosen.
On October 7, 2023, the Nova music festival near Kibbutz Be’eri was supposed to be a celebration. Instead, it became a scene of terror. Yuval sought refuge in a concrete bomb shelter with 50 others, only to find herself trapped in a place of unspeakable loss.
“I can’t explain how heavy a body becomes when it is dead,” she recalled in an interview earlier this year. For eight hours, Yuval lay beneath a young woman who had been killed, barely daring to breathe. “Every time we raised our heads, there were fewer of us. We thought the terrorists were taking the bodies, but it was the grenades.”
Only 12 of the 50 people in the shelter survived, rescued not by soldiers but by the father of another victim. The memory of that day is etched into Yuval’s mind, but instead of letting it silence her, she chooses to speak.
Months after the massacre, Yuval became a voice for survivors. Partnering with the Jerusalem Institute of Justice (JIJ), she traveled to the United Nations in Geneva to share her story. “Their healing is fundamental to the fabric of our community,” Uri Morad, director of international law and public diplomacy at the JIJ, said of survivors like Yuval.
At the UN, Yuval recounted the horrors of that day, speaking not just for herself but for all who suffered. “Hamas vowed to do this again and again,” she warned.
Her performances, including ABBA’s “Dancing Queen,” were all dedicated to her friends who were killed for the sake of being Jewish. “When I sang, I imagined the girls who were killed at Nova dancing with me,” she told Ynet in a recent interview. “It’s so painful, but it drives me.”
Despite her joy, Yuval is acutely aware of the challenges ahead. She knows the Eurovision is not just a music competition but a very political arena. “I understand I’ll be walking into a lion’s den,” she said. “There will be boycotts and hostility, but I’m not there for them. I’m there for Israel,” she said.
“Even if it takes a toll on me emotionally, I’m ready to pay that price,” she said. “When I think of my friends who returned from Gaza after their reserve duty, they’ve paid their own prices. If this is mine, so be it.”
In her audition a few months ago, Raphael sang “Anyone,” by Demi Lovato, a song about the singer’s struggles with addiction and depression.
The judges, all top Israeli pop artists, choked up when she opened her mouth with such emotion; Shiri Maimon, the first runner-up of the same reality show, who represented Israel in the Eurovision many years ago, shed a tear, saying, “My head is full of goosebumps.”
When Raphael got to the chorus, “Anyone, please send me anyone / Lord, is there anyone? / I need someone,” she sang as if yelling and closing her eyes. Everyone imagined exactly what she wanted us to see: Her friends lying over her, dead. At the same time, she is faking being a dead body to survive – waiting for someone to save her.
She said in her audition that she wants to combine both of her passions, hasbara and music, to tell the world what really happened on October 7.
She is a hero. Her friends are heroes. This generation is overwhelmingly unique, profound, focused, idealistic, and traumatized, but most take it in a brave direction of survival and strength.
Emily, Doron, Romi, and Yuval. Four twentysomething Israelis who will shape Israel. Who can change Israel for the better. Earlier this week, the IDF chief of staff announced he would finally step down after more than a year since October 7. He finally took responsibility for this historic and fatal failure. So many others should have done the same.
Make room for Emily, Doron, Romi, Yuval, and their friends – they are our only hope.