‘We will dance again.” These are the words that Mia Schem had inked onto her arm, above the date 7.10.23, following her release from Gaza after 55 harrowing days in captivity.
I’ve always loved to dance, so Mia’s defiant words struck a chord.
They brought to mind the last time I had a good ol’ boogie with my daughter in Park Hayarkon, Tel Aviv, where I was covering the Bruno Mars concert for this paper. Surrounded by thousands of people, we all crammed together and danced the night away without a care in the world.
The most pressing issue of the entire evening was making sure we bought our refreshments before the diminutive star appeared on stage.
Less than three days later, on October 7, the dancing stopped, both literally and figuratively, when Hamas terrorists launched their sustained, heinous attacks on southern Israel.
Among other victims
Among other victims – from tiny babies to elderly Holocaust survivors – hundreds of beautiful young, carefree souls at the Supernova music festival, unable to escape the onslaught, were brutally raped, tortured, and murdered by the terrorists. Others, including Mia Schem, were injured and violently kidnapped into Gaza, where dozens still remain to this day, likely suffering ongoing abuse, including rape and torture.
Having been at an outdoor music event just a few days before, my thoughts often turned to those youngsters in the weeks following the attacks. How many of those who danced with us at the concert in Tel Aviv had been dancing at that music festival when the terrorists struck?
I witnessed the grief and misery of the victims’ families and some of the survivors at the funeral of a young man called Maor in mid-October. Maor, who was at the festival, was the brother of my son’s friend, a man in his early 20s whose senseless and cruel murder had been filmed by the terrorists themselves – who later sent the footage to his grieving mother.
With such thoughts uppermost in my mind, the weeks following October 7 passed in a blur of grief, shock, and anxiety, as they did for countless others. Music and dancing were put on hold for the nation as a whole. That magical evening in the park with my daughter seemed like a dream from another life.
WITH THE passage of time, however, I felt a need to listen to music once again, to be reminded of the carefree abandon of that evening, if only in some small way.
Consequently, I retreated to my bedroom, opened the Apple Music app on my phone, pulled up a list of Bruno Mars songs, and scrolled down until I found the tune that I’d singled out for a special mention in my Jerusalem Post review of the concert: “Versace on the Floor.” Although the words to this love song are cloyingly saccharine and largely meaningless, even now, there is something about the melody that transports me back to that wonderful time.
Before long, I was sobbing uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the searing grief and anxiety that I’d managed to bury inside to enable me to keep going. I was shocked by how a simple song could act as such a powerful release.
Like most, I still struggle to come to terms with what happened on October 7, although I’m able to listen to music once again – and even that song – without dissolving into floods of tears.
However, I suspect it will take much longer to get to the point where I feel like dancing again. While our soldiers are fighting on two fronts, with some tragically losing their lives and others suffering serious wounds, and over 100 hostages remaining in captivity in Gaza, dancing can wait.
But, if Mia’s words have taught us anything, it’s to never give up hope. Her new tattoo should help us all to see a chink of light in an otherwise dark world – a small yet significant statement of positivity.
So yes, “we will dance again,” but not just yet.
The writer is a former lawyer from Manchester, England. She now lives in Israel, where she works at The Jerusalem Post.