On September 10, International Suicide Prevention Day, I found myself at an event in Tel Aviv that was both emotionally charged and deeply meaningful. The night was perfect—sunny, warm, and full of life, with people strolling along the beach. It felt almost surreal, being surrounded by the laughter and joy of beachgoers while we gathered to talk about the weightiest of subjects: suicide, trauma, and mental health.
The event was held in a former strip club that once went by the name "PussyCat." The club has a dark history—a place where women were trapped, exploited, and abused. In 2019, following a long legal battle, the club finally shut its doors and in its place, a center for Jewish learning and social activism was opened. The building that once trapped so many women now serves as a space dedicated to empowering people. The symbolism wasn’t lost. To gather here, on this night, in a space once filled with so much pain, and to turn it into a venue for hope and healing, felt like an act of reclamation.
Honoring Gila’s Memory Through Action
Rabbi Shalom Hammer, co-founder of Gila’s Way, led the event with raw honesty. The organization is named in honor of his daughter Gila, who died by suicide at just 18 years old. Sitting there, surrounded by her mother, her uncle, her aunt, and some of her siblings, the sense of loss was palpable. Yet, so was the sense of purpose.
Rabbi Hammer spoke about Gila’s life, her potential, and the trauma she endured. He shared her story with the room in present tense – as if she were still present, describing how she had been a bright, loving young woman who dreamed of becoming a psychologist to help people battling depression. But those dreams were shattered by sexual assault, and the weight of that pain became too much to bear. Rabbi Hammer reminded us all that Gila’s story is not an isolated one—80% of those struggling with PTSD have experienced some form of sexual violence.
His words were heart-wrenching but vital. He spoke of the silence that surrounded Gila in her final weeks, a silence that could have been broken with the right words, with someone asking the tough questions. "Talking about suicide doesn’t plant the idea in someone’s mind," he said, dispelling one of the biggest myths surrounding suicide prevention. "It helps them feel seen, and being seen can save a life."
MK Michal Waldiger: A Call for Collective Responsibility
MK Michal Waldiger honored the event with her presence, expressing gratitude to Rabbi Hammer, Shani Olshaker and the team at Gila’s Way for their critical work. She highlighted the role that each of us plays in suicide prevention. As a community, she said, we can’t simply rely on professionals. We need to look around us, offer smiles, words of kindness, and a reminder that no one is invisible. Her message was clear: it’s not just about material help but emotional connection.
As she spoke, I couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between the vibrant world just outside the hall and the quiet suffering that often goes unnoticed. Her reminder that we must be present and that our humanity is what binds us felt like the perfect response to the isolation so many feel.
Emily’s Brave Testimony
One of the most powerful moments of the night came when Emily (pseudonym), a young woman wearing a mask to protect her identity, stepped forward. Her voice shook as she began to speak, but her strength was undeniable.
Emily’s story was one of unimaginable hardship – sexual abuse at the age of five left her feeling trapped and powerless and she found herself struggling with homelessness, isolation, and exploitation. With no place to call home and no one to turn to, she found herself on the streets, searching for a way to survive. At her lowest point, with no roof over her head and no family support, she fell into a world of prostitution, believing it was her only way out.
A non-profit organization with incredible volunteers helped Emily get out and she began to rebuild her life. Standing before us, she was a testament to resilience—a reminder that, even when it feels like there’s no way out, support and compassion can make all the difference.
Emily stood before us as a survivor — not as a victim. I couldn’t stop thinking about her courage—not just to survive, but to share her story so openly and to remind others that even in the darkest moments, hope is still possible.
Shani Olshaker: The Importance of Dialogue
Shani Olshaker’s message was grounded in practicality and hope. She spoke about the critical importance of communication, of noticing the signs, and of not being afraid to ask the difficult questions. Shani outlined the warning signs that often accompany suicidal thoughts—withdrawal, drastic changes in behavior, expressions of hopelessness—and reminded us that prevention starts with awareness.
She emphasized that even if you’re unsure of what to do, just showing up and offering support can make all the difference. Her words were a call to action: to trust our instincts, to reach out, and to be there for others, even when it feels uncomfortable. It was a message we all needed to hear—that we all have the power to help someone in need.
A Night of Light and Hope
As the night drew to a close, I felt a deep sense of connection—to the stories shared, to the people around me, and to the larger mission of suicide prevention. This event wasn’t just about remembering those we’ve lost; it was about taking the lessons learned from their stories and applying them to the present.
In a place once filled with darkness, we came together to bring light. Rabbi Hammer’s words about the duality of darkness and light stayed with me long after I left the hall: "Even in a place of such darkness, we can find light." On this night, it felt like we were all working together to turn that light into something brighter, something lasting.
Through the work of Gila’s Way and the bravery of people like Emily, the path to healing continues to grow. And in that growth, I find hope—not just for myself, but for the countless others who might be struggling in silence. No one should have to walk through their pain alone.
