In the best of times, those with special needs and their families face challenges, but since the Oct. 7 massacre and the outbreak of the war against Hamas, these challenges faced by one of Israel’s most vulnerable populations have intensified.
The terrorists took the lives of some Israelis with special needs, and these losses, along with the trauma and dislocations of the war, have caused great suffering in this community. According to the Welfare Ministry, nearly 5,000 Israelis evacuated from their homes have disabilities, and of the child evacuees, nearly 5,000 are in special education frameworks.
Noya Dan, a 13-year-old on the autism spectrum, was taken hostage by Hamas, along with her grandmother Carmela, from Carmela’s home on Kibbutz Nir Oz, where Noya was staying on Simchat Torah. In those early chaotic days of the war, it took weeks for searchers to find their bodies near the Gaza border. The gunmen terrorized them – Noya’s final, panicked messages to her mother are among the saddest documents of the war – then took them from their home and murdered them.
Noya became one of the most visible faces of the kidnapping victims following the attack because she was a huge Harry Potter fan. Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling saw a photo of her dressed as Hermione, one of the main characters of the books, that was circulating on social media. Rowling reposted the picture on X when Noya was still missing, saying, “Kidnapping children is despicable and wholly unjustifiable. For obvious reasons, this picture has hit home with me. May Noya and all hostages taken by Hamas be returned soon, safely, to their families.” When Noya’s body was found, Rowling posted, “I have no words.”
Months later, Noya’s video audition for a talent contest was circulated online. She was so sweet and gifted, aware of her issues but not letting them define her. She had been part of a loving, supportive community, and her family and friends had clearly made her feel special in the best sense of the word.
Galit Dan, Noya’s mother and Carmela’s daughter, lives on the nearby kibbutz, Kissufim. During the days when Noya and Carmela were listed as missing, she said, “Noya is my eldest; she is mine alone. I’m a single mother, and she’s a uniquely special child. Just because she is autistic doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand. She understands everything.”
Hagit Rosenheim, formerly the principal of the Magshimim High School for people on the autism spectrum in Jerusalem and an educator who works in different school settings around the country, noted the ripple effect of Noya’s death on Noya’s schoolmates.
“They lost their friend, and it was very difficult for them to cope with it,” she said. “At first, there was the need to explain to them that she had been kidnapped, and that wasn’t easy… Noya had been part of the class WhatsApp group, and they had to find a way to deal with it. It was hard to know how to handle it.”
RUTH PERETZ, a 17-year-old with muscle atrophy and cerebral palsy who was confined to a wheelchair, was murdered with her father at the Supernova music festival near Re’im.
In the new documentary We Will Dance Again by Yariv Mozer, which is showing on Hot 8 in Israel and on streaming services around the world, survivors spoke with affection about Ruth and her father, Eric. They were fixtures on the Israeli trance music scene and often attended concerts and parties together, where they were treated with love and respect. Pictures of the two together, with Ruth looking happy in her wheelchair, which had been decorated with lights and brightly colored fabrics by her father, circulated on social media after their bodies were found.
The cases of Noya and Ruth are particularly stark examples of Hamas’s cruelty. They could have walked past these young girls but chose to shoot them. While many news organizations are loathe to use the words “terrorist” and “terrorism,” murdering disabled teenagers would seem to be the dictionary definition of terrorism.
In addition to these deaths, the special-needs community was affected by the kidnappings of two educators. Sharon Avigdori, who was taken hostage from Kibbutz Be’eri, is a drama therapist who works with children on the autism spectrum in the center of the country. Gabriela Leimberg, who was kidnapped from Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak, runs a program for young adults on the spectrum at the Ramat Rachel Kibbutz in Jerusalem, where they work with animals. The program is conducted in Hebrew and Arabic so that Arabic speakers can take part. Both women were released in the hostage deal in late 2023.
Before her release, Sharon’s husband, Hen Avigdori, said in an interview that he received many calls from the parents of her pupils. One mother told him her son recognized her face on one of the hostage posters and said her name. “They want her back. They miss her, too,” he said.
The parents of the participants in Leimberg’s program made a video in Hebrew and Arabic shortly after Oct. 7, showing the young people talking about how devastated they were that their beloved program director had disappeared.
Many more Israelis with special needs have had to cope with the trauma of being suddenly uprooted from their homes. People with various disabilities, especially those on the autism spectrum, often take great comfort in maintaining routines in their daily lives, and so while being forced to flee would be difficult for anyone, for this population it was especially tough.
How has SHEKEL been helping Israelis with special needs?
SHEKEL, A nonprofit providing residential, occupational, and leisure services to adults and children with many different special needs, stepped in to provide care in the aftermath of the massacre. The organization has therapeutic centers all over the country, and its centers in Jerusalem and Beersheba (which serve the entire southern periphery, including the Gaza border region) reached out to and took in evacuees and also provided a nationwide emergency hotline following Oct. 7.
The group continues to provide therapeutic services for evacuees and victims of war with disabilities. They sent therapeutic teams to evacuated families with children and adult family members with disabilities in Eilat while providing ongoing therapy for adults and children who survived the massacre. They also provide guidance for families of those with disabilities, many of whom were facing the trauma of war themselves.
The sudden lack of educational or occupational frameworks was extremely difficult, Rosenheim noted, and that was just one of many disruptions. “For weeks or longer, there was no school. Some teachers tried to teach remotely, like during COVID, but that doesn’t work very well for most people. There were other changes. Often one parent, usually the father, suddenly goes to reserve duty, or an older sibling. Or teachers do. That changes their whole world and creates a huge amount of stress. Sometimes parents and teachers are dealing with their own stress due to the war, and that’s also tough. Many people with special needs regressed due to stress.”
For people just starting out in new frameworks, the war was especially difficult, she said.
A SHEKEL staff member told a touching story about Aviv, a 25-year-old on the autism spectrum, who was evacuated to Jerusalem with his mother from Shlomi in the North at the beginning of the war.“I found myself in a hotel in a strange city, with nothing to do and no friends. I didn’t know anyone,” he told her. “Life lost its meaning, and one day I sat down in a park and just broke down and cried.” He was placed in a special SHEKEL program that prepares people with disabilities for work in Israel’s private sector.
“I feel connected now. SHEKEL feels like home. I have met people here that have deeply touched my heart; [the program] has given me the chance to discover strengths I never knew I had, so I feel much more confident.” The organization has also helped place him in a graphics course and a cooking course it runs.
Even those whose schools or occupational frameworks were disrupted only briefly have had to cope with the sirens and missiles, which were almost constant in some regions at the beginning of the war and have flared up again and again in virtually every part of the country.
My own son Danny, a 28-year-old on the autism spectrum, was terrified at the noise of the Iranian missile attack on Jerusalem in April, sobbing and refusing at first to go to the bomb shelter. The parents of people with autism trade stories of how they have dealt with these missile attacks and give each other advice.
“Even in normal times, they tend to have sensory issues,” said Rosenheim. Danny has phobias of certain noises, which is not uncommon in autism, and he needs frequent reassurances throughout the day, every day, that he will be safe if there are sirens and missiles.
One family in Tel Aviv has a son who was so terrified by the missile attacks that they chose to go abroad and stay with relatives in the US for several months. “The change of moving like that wasn’t easy on any of us, but it was better than these missile attacks. At least there, we could say, ‘Don’t worry, there won’t be a siren tonight,’ and we knew it would be true,” said his mother. They are now back in Tel Aviv and concerned about the recent missile attacks by Hezbollah.
Bryan Friedland, a young Jerusalemite on the autism spectrum, said, “This year has been challenging, I can tell you that. I’m still dealing with the emotional aspect of the war and the aftermath… I go into a state of panic every time I hear the sirens. When I hear sirens from police cars and ambulances, it sends me into a state of anxiety.”
When the war started, he said, most of the counselors and social workers who usually give him the support he needs vanished because they needed to stay home with young children or go on reserve duty. “It was a mess; I had no one to turn to,” he recalled. “My whole world crumbled.”
He said he has coped by channeling his energy into painting and theater, which he loves. He has painted several paintings that reflect his feelings about the war. One is called Out of the Ashes, which depicts a colorful figure emerging into the world. “I wanted to depict that even though something terrible has happened, it’s possible to emerge from it and continue to live.”
He recently sold one of his wartime paintings to a Jewish organization in Brooklyn and is proud and gratified that people there can look at it and understand his experiences and emotions.
While Friedland is what is referred to as high-functioning, meaning he is able to express himself more easily than many people on the autism spectrum and has a degree of independence, he said that he feels that all special-needs people have essentially the same needs.
“With special needs people, they need to hear these words: ‘It’s going to be OK, you’re going to be all right…’ Even if you don’t believe it, you still need to say it. There is a part of us called hope that needs to believe things will get better. You need to say it for them, and you need to say it for you.”
For those interested in finding out more about SHEKEL, go to: www.shekel.org.il/en
This article was originally published at www.jpost.com
