On January 19th, 2025, Romi Gonen was released from Hamas captivity during the first day of the second ceasefire deal. Kidnapped from the Nova festival on October 7th, 2023, her smiling face became one of the most recognized images on hostage posters worldwide. Rabbi Aron White spoke with her mother, Meirav Leshem Gonen, about her 471-day battle for her daughter’s freedom.

Can you tell us about yourself and your background?

I live in the north of Israel, am the mother of five children, and before October 7th worked as a business consultant to female business owners. I operated very much in my arba amot (personal space), I was not a person who was very politically active.

Can you take us back to the morning of October 7th? Where were you and what did you know?

At 6:35am, Romi called me to say there were rocket sirens. We didn’t realize anything was out of the “ordinary,” so I told her to try to find cover. She called back a little later to say the rockets were not stopping, but they couldn’t get out in the car because they were stuck with hundreds of cars trying to leave. Romi was with her friend Gaia, and as they were hiding in the bushes, they started to hear gunshots that I could hear on the phone. Then Romi called me a few minutes later to say she had been shot. Gaia had been killed, as had Ben Shimoni, the driver who had heroically driven back to save them. She said she was bleeding, and I just tried to stay on the phone with Romi as I heard the gunshots in the background. The call ended, and that was the last I heard from Romi. After that, there were hours of confusion, as we didn’t know what was happening, and were trying to work out what had happened to Romi, as thousands of people tried to piece together what was happening to their loved ones.

In the early days, you in many ways became one of the faces of the hostage families. You spoke at the press conference on October 8th and, as an English speaker, were one of the first families to speak to the English media. Was that something you consciously decided, or did it just happen?

At the beginning, there were not many of us speaking to the media as there was just so much chaos and confusion, but I spoke to any journalist who wanted to hear about October 7th. Relatively early on, it dawned upon me that this is not just a story of Israel, but we are the am segula, our fate is to have a central place in world events. What happens to us affects the world; I felt that very clearly. From very early, I understood this was a battle between good and evil.

At some point, after the first ceasefire, we were at a prayer event at the Kotel with Chief Rabbis and religious leaders from all around the world. There was a rabbi there who said something that really resonated with me: “We are living in historic times, and history will judge for each person whether they chose evil or good.” There is a battle of the free world with the forces of evil. We are the first to meet it, and we will have to be the first as the Jewish people, but allowing the forces of evil to win here will affect the world at large. That gave us strength.

While I focused primarily on advocacy within Israel, I also participated in international efforts. I traveled to Germany and addressed the UN in Geneva, while my older daughter represented our family across various cities in the United States.

During the 471 days Romi was in captivity, there were many ups and downs, but I’m sure one of the hardest moments was when Romi didn’t return in the first ceasefire. What gave you strength during the difficult times?

I felt a profound obligation to protect my daughter’s life – this is fundamentally what being a mother means. My other four children were watching how I responded; I knew they were wondering what would happen if they were taken too. Even subconsciously, I wanted to demonstrate for them what motherhood truly means: you never stop fighting for your child.

I felt as I was speaking and being active that as a people we were learning a lesson and reinforcing our values on a national level. The battle for the hostages is about arvut hadadit (mutual responsibility), ahavat hachayim (love of life), kedushat hachayim (sanctity of life), to ensure we keep an eye on each other. This is true not only about the hostages but to ensure that we “see” each other, such as our brothers and sisters in Gush Etzion and other parts of the country who have lived with the threat of terrorism. This arvut hadadit doesn’t exist in any other nation; no one else feels this sense of brotherhood. We are all neshamot connected, part of the same creation. We are part of a moment when we have to reinforce these national values that are part of our DNA.

In Jewish tradition, the exodus from Egypt occurred in stages. Similarly, do you see Romi’s return to freedom happening in phases? What has this journey been like for your family?

That’s a thoughtful question. While I’m still processing everything, I can see distinct phases in our journey. First came the overwhelming joy of her physical return – that moment when she finally arrived home. Before that, her absence had created an enormous void in our family, which we’re now gradually filling with her presence again.

Our relationship with Romi has been transformed by this experience. After spending fifteen months fighting for her return, we connect with her in entirely new ways. As a family, we’re now learning how to transition back to everyday life – a different kind of challenge.

There’s also been a shift in our roles. For over a year, we spoke about Romi, advocated for her, and imagined her return. Now she’s here, making her own choices and reclaiming her voice. We’re relearning to relate to her not as the subject of our advocacy, but as an autonomous person living her own life again. She’s no longer “our hostage” but simply our daughter, free to determine her own path forward.

Last year, at a conference in Ashkelon, you said: “True cheirut will be when Romi is with us for Seder night this year.” What is your message to Jews around the world this Pesach?

This year, the true cheirut (freedom) is davka to release ourselves from the prison of ego and rigid thinking. In Israel, we often cling so tightly to our opinions that we become unable to hear others. We fear that acknowledging any validity in different viewpoints might somehow undermine our entire worldview. This is a lesson we must learn – that we can remain strong in our convictions while still recognizing the complexity of reality and the legitimacy of differing perspectives. True freedom comes when we can listen to one another without feeling threatened.