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Think Tanks:
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Media:
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(Washington Post) Agam Goldstein-Almog - Growing up in Kibbutz Kfar Aza next to Israel's border with Gaza meant a childhood that could be interrupted at any moment by sirens warning of a Hamas rocket attack. Sibling fights or quiet nights were instantly turned into a scramble for the nearest safe room. Hamas took control of Gaza a few months before I was born in 2007, so living in its shadow is all I have ever known. Having 15 seconds to run to safety might not be a common theme in childhood, but I convinced myself that it had made me stronger than kids from comfortable Tel Aviv. Then came Oct. 7. Hamas terrorists charged into our home, shooting my father, Nadav, and sister, Yam. I was dragged out of the house together with my mother and two younger brothers and forced into a car to Gaza. I see my father's fading eyes when I close mine at night. My Hamas guards hated me for being Jewish, so I was coerced into reciting Islamic prayers and made to wear a hijab. Six female hostages I met in a tunnel told me about men with guns who came into their shower rooms and touched their bodies. I was fortunate to be released, along with my family members, in a prisoner exchange after 51 days. But those six young women are still in captivity, held for more than 300 days. One morning, my family was moved from our safe house to a school hall, filled largely with Gazan women and children. Then, in an instant, Hamas launched rockets, just meters away from us, from inside the school compound. The hall erupted in joy, and as the Gazans celebrated, I realized that Hamas had moved us there to serve as human shields. Shortly before my family and I were released, a guard told us that, in the next war, Hamas would return to kill us. There would be no hostage-taking, no more dealmaking. When we were transferred to a Red Cross vehicle for our ride out of Gaza, a mob formed. The Gazans banged on the windows and screamed at us: Die, die, die. On social media, I watched as the movement for a Gaza ceasefire sometimes devolves into full-throated support for Hamas and the hounding of Jews in public spaces. When American students chant in praise of Hamas terrorists "Al-Qassam, you make us proud," I'm reminded that many people still hate me.2024-08-22 00:00:00Full Article
I Was a Captive of Hamas
(Washington Post) Agam Goldstein-Almog - Growing up in Kibbutz Kfar Aza next to Israel's border with Gaza meant a childhood that could be interrupted at any moment by sirens warning of a Hamas rocket attack. Sibling fights or quiet nights were instantly turned into a scramble for the nearest safe room. Hamas took control of Gaza a few months before I was born in 2007, so living in its shadow is all I have ever known. Having 15 seconds to run to safety might not be a common theme in childhood, but I convinced myself that it had made me stronger than kids from comfortable Tel Aviv. Then came Oct. 7. Hamas terrorists charged into our home, shooting my father, Nadav, and sister, Yam. I was dragged out of the house together with my mother and two younger brothers and forced into a car to Gaza. I see my father's fading eyes when I close mine at night. My Hamas guards hated me for being Jewish, so I was coerced into reciting Islamic prayers and made to wear a hijab. Six female hostages I met in a tunnel told me about men with guns who came into their shower rooms and touched their bodies. I was fortunate to be released, along with my family members, in a prisoner exchange after 51 days. But those six young women are still in captivity, held for more than 300 days. One morning, my family was moved from our safe house to a school hall, filled largely with Gazan women and children. Then, in an instant, Hamas launched rockets, just meters away from us, from inside the school compound. The hall erupted in joy, and as the Gazans celebrated, I realized that Hamas had moved us there to serve as human shields. Shortly before my family and I were released, a guard told us that, in the next war, Hamas would return to kill us. There would be no hostage-taking, no more dealmaking. When we were transferred to a Red Cross vehicle for our ride out of Gaza, a mob formed. The Gazans banged on the windows and screamed at us: Die, die, die. On social media, I watched as the movement for a Gaza ceasefire sometimes devolves into full-throated support for Hamas and the hounding of Jews in public spaces. When American students chant in praise of Hamas terrorists "Al-Qassam, you make us proud," I'm reminded that many people still hate me.2024-08-22 00:00:00Full Article
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