Reflections of a Witness

June 24, 2024 Guest Contributor

Shoes from the festival are reminiscent of the shoes display at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. (Photo by Robyn Stevens Brody)

By Robyn Stevens Brody

We must bear witness to the tragic events of Oct. 7th. This is not just a Jewish problem. This is everyone’s problem.

When the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum opened in Washington, D.C., in 1993, I visited with my mother and grandmother. How people did not know what was happening was an underlying question for me.

I am a documentary photographer. I preserve time. Documentation is important to me. When the Holocaust occurred, “in-real-time” information did not really exist. There was not even close to the flood of information that we receive today. That was then. Now, whether accurate reporting or incorrect propaganda, information is accessible 24/7.

So why are people dismissing Israeli women, the Jewish community and warnings being seen across the world? Is it because we are Jews? I believe so. “Free Palestine” and “Intifada, intifada” are clear messages.

Witnessing the Unspeakable

As I recently walked through the Nova Music Festival exhibit in New York, I saw images and artifacts from Hamas’s attack on Israelis, Americans and other foreign nationals. Predominantly Jews. Jews the ages of my own kids. Same hairstyles, tattoos, clothing, happiness, dancing. It was a music festival!

Through the victims’ personal phones filled with images and video, we saw, heard and witnessed the unspeakable — killing, raping, abusing and torturing of unsuspecting innocent people.

There were televisions surrounded by broken lawn chairs, a guitar, coolers, gameboards, makeup cases, blankets, items often packed for a camping music festival. And Bibles.

Subtitles were on the videos: “Kill! Kill! For God, for Allah!”

Within minutes, in a very crowded exhibit, I was feeling anxious and overwhelmed. It was loud from the chaos heard on multiple screens, even though people at the exhibit were quiet and respectful. It was dark. New Yorkers were as polite as could be as we all bumped into one another.

Several senses were experiencing horrific images. Whispers were heard, “This is not religion. This is monstrous.”

I photographed the encampments at Columbia University, George Washington University, Johns Hopkins University and University of Pennsylvania. I was mostly ignored. Some people spoke with me. In multiple conversations, I would “learn” these “facts”: Israel is an occupation state, ALL of the rapes of Israeli women were refuted, there was no beheading of Jewish babies, martyrs are in waiting, gay people are welcome in Palestine and women in Palestine “have equal rights.”

All lies.

I asked, “From which river to which sea” will Palestine be free? I never found a person who knew.

Need to be One People

As a photographer published in major media publications and news outlets around the world, including Jmore (where I am a contributing photographer), I have covered both pro-Israel rallies as well as numerous pro-Palestine protests in Baltimore, New York, Delaware, Washington and Philadelphia.

It has been very difficult to do my job amongst the hate, but we need to see this to restore the arc of justice. At marches and in the encampments, I have never identified myself, nor have I been asked to.

I made the decision to write this piece because there are no two sides. Never once have I ever heard, “Free Palestine from Hamas.”

Never.

Antisemitic and anti-Zionist activists are being groomed, nurtured and normalized. Their scripts are all the same. I have been to more than two dozen pro-Palestine events, and know their talking points. They are organized.

When I attend gatherings for the Jewish community, I see mostly crowds of Israelis and Orthodox communities. This is not the time to allow politics or religious ideologies to come between us. We are not perfect. We are Jewish. We need to be one people. We have allies, but not enough.

I have served on numerous committees and boards in the Jewish community. I became a bat mitzvah. But I have never felt more Jewish than today.

There was a display of shoes left behind at Nova, some that fell off when the celebration turned to running for lives. Like the wall of images of murdered people in the Holocaust Museum, there was a wall of murdered festival-goers. It was surrounded by yahrzeit candles and notes of support, hope and bravery from exhibit visitors. “Hatikvah,” Israel’s National Anthem meaning “hope,” played gently in the background.

We saw actual cars that were blown out by machine guns as people tried to get away. The cars had been set on fire. We saw a bar with unfinished cigarettes, bottles of liquor, Nova festival wristbands. The music booth was preserved as a tribute to Matah Lior. He was well known in Israel’s music scene, and had provided the amplification system, electrical infrastructure and lighting for the festival. He was the person who shut off the music and made announcements to vacate immediately. While he remained giving instructions, he was brutally murdered.

After the exhibit, I was moved by the spiritual atmosphere in the healing space. In a softly lit room, books about healing, art from survivors, notecards filled with messages, and painted rocks gave people a place to express their reflections from the exhibit where we bore witness.

I am an artist. I am a Jew. I love music. I love Israel. While I can, I will continue to document the hatred of Israel and the Jews. We have been warned. This is an Everyone problem. The reality is that those denying what happened are the people who need to see this exhibit.

I am turning in my feminist card. The feminists I have stood beside refuse to stand for my Israeli and Jewish sisters. The silence of our friends and neighbors is loud. I know that I am not alone in being a proud Zionist and more connected to JewISHness than ever before.

Bring home the hostages, NOW. And, yes, we will dance again. Am Yisrael Chai.

The Nova exhibit in New York remained open for an additional two weeks after protesters were blocking the exhibit of deceased and still captive victims. The exhibit closed in New York and is heading to Los Angeles.

Robyn Stevens Brody is a native of Baltimore. Having grown up as a Reform Jew, today she and her family attend Chizuk Amuno Congregation. Robyn has visited Israel five times. She is a freelance photographer with a passion for documentary photography.