How do you explain one of the most brutal conflicts in modern history to a third grader?
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From start of the Israel-Hamas war, the internet's parenting advice engine has been hard at work, producing massively psychologist-backed guides on how to talk to children about it. The message in almost every well-intentioned article: Remind your kids they're safe, stay calm, and keep the true horror of the news to yourself. But in New York, implementing this advice can be nearly impossible. Here, the communities and classrooms are international and diverse, and even when they aren't, the subways, buses, and roads that lead to them are. News reaches children from televisions in taxis and flat screens in restaurants; from posters plastered to subway entrances and city facades campuses, the word APPEAL bright red, big enough to hear a kindergarten. Protesters and mourners gather for rallies and vigils, then walk, agonizingly, through residential neighborhoods, carrying flags. Children talk at lunch and on the playground, parroting what they hear at home. A canned script is rarely enough when it comes to explaining what the city, and in some cases, social media, have revealed to the children.
In these interviews, eight mothers from and around New York City share how they have discussed the attack on Israel, the history of conflict in the Middle East, and the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza. Some of the mothers who spoke to us are Jewish, others are Muslim and some have direct family ties to the area. The difficult conversations the mothers described happened unexpectedly and in scheduled meetings – and for almost every family, those conversations are not over. The mothers' stories vary by family background and the children's ages, but they also highlight a common element: fear for their children's future and a burning but futile desire for a swift end to the violence.
"I kept reassuring her that everything is fine and that it's okay and that mommy is a big girl – she doesn't need to take care of mommy."
➼ Zohar is the mother of a 12-year-old daughter and a 9-year-old son. He lives in Brooklyn Heights.
“I am Israeli and have many friends and family members in Israel. On October 7, my 9-year-old son woke me up, probably at eight in the morning, and told me that there had been an attack in Israel. My husband had read it to New York Times when he woke up. Before we could talk to our children, he and I needed a few moments to understand what was happening and to have conversations with our family and friends — to know they were safe. My family is safe, but my best friend's brother, wife and three children were murdered in Kibbutz Kfar Aza and the kibbutz was destroyed.
The first thing I told my kids was that the whole family is safe and that this is hard, but we will get through it. But my daughter is very aware and sensitive. She was crying and worried about the rockets. We had to calm her down. We said again that the family is safe and no one is in danger right now and everyone is fine — their grandmother, their uncle.
Since then, my daughter often wants to know if I'm okay and if there's anything she can do to help, and often asks if the family is still safe. I kept reassuring her that everything is fine and that it's okay and that mommy is a big girl — she doesn't have to take care of mommy.
And so is my son. There was one night when he definitely had trouble falling asleep. When I asked him if he wanted to ask me something, he said, "Mom, I want to know as little as possible." And I said, "That's perfectly fine, and if you want to know anything about it, I'm here."
I just wanted my kids to have a connection to Israel and spend time with family there and feel like that was their home too. Before COVID, we visited Israel every year. For years I kept the conflict away from the kids as much as possible. They knew we were pro-peace and anti-occupation, but that was pretty much it. And then earlier this year, with the legal challenges in Israel, it's almost like the floodgates opened. This year, before the war, I was seen upset and concerned about what was happening in Israel. We took a trip to Israel in August and they felt the tension. It was palpable and they knew it, and I feel very sad about it. I feel sad that their relationship with Israel is one of danger and chaos and sorrow.
"I told them, 'For me, it's important to be clear so that we don't equate all Palestinians with Hamas and we don't equate all Israelis with the Netanyahu regime.'
➼ Kavitha Rajagopalan, author of Muslims of Metropolis , is the mother of an 11-year-old daughter and a 7-year-old son. He lives in East Williamsburg.
On October 7th, after the Hamas terrorist attack on Israel, I spent the day checking in with friends. I have some friends who have a lot of family in Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, and I have some friends who have family members in southern Israel. And then, that night, I sat with my daughter. And I said, “Listen, I want to give you a little context. In the next few days, you will hear a lot about Israel and Palestine and how complicated they are. Obviously, there is a long and toxic history. But, as far as many of us can see, when it comes to Gaza, it's a pretty simple situation. This is a people that has been under siege for 16 years." Then we talked about the blockade and the humanitarian crisis, and how it is impossible for people to live in Gaza. I said, “You know, 2 million people live in this very small space — surrounded on three sides by impassable land borders and on the other side by a sea. And so they live this life of incredible suffering. There is a lot of surveillance. There is a lot of violence. A peaceful protest was not possible. They haven't held elections since 2006." I told her that many people in the Israeli and Palestinian governments wanted to support peace, but that has broken down for various reasons over time. I told her that the Israeli people deserve and want security, as do the Palestinian people. And I said, "For me, it's important to have clear eyes so that we don't equate all Palestinians with Hamas and we don't equate all Israelis with the Netanyahu regime."
He asked me what the difference was between Gaza and the West Bank. And he wanted to know more about the settlers and why Palestine had two different governments. He asked: Who are the legitimate rulers and who speaks for the Palestinian people? I think my daughter is trying to come to terms with the fact that we live in a world where children can be killed and no one really cares one way or the other. Her brother was seriously ill and she saw how hard we fought to save his life. So, he struggles to understand why people don't care about saving the lives of other children.
As for my son, he wants to see the world clearly. He wants there to be good guys and bad guys. And so, he and I had a long discussion about how the Israeli state is a response to thousands of years of violence against Jews, mostly in Europe. I told him that all people deserve a place to feel safe, a homeland. And then that led us into a broader discussion about displacement. He started talking to me about Pakistan. And then we started talking about Kashmir, and how Kashmir and Gaza have parallels.
Eventually, my son and I started talking about a lockdown drill he experienced at school and how scary it was for him. He said, "Is someone going to come into my school and try to shoot me, or poison me, or kidnap me?" And I said, “No, probably not here. But this is something that happens elsewhere."
The other day – about ten days after the war started – my daughter was looking at me at dinner. He said, "Mom, are you okay?" He is such a compassionate, compassionate person. And I said, “I'm fine. I am very, very sad about what is happening in Palestine." And she said, “I'm really sorry, Mom. I'm sorry that this is happening." And then he said, "I want to read more and learn more about the history of the area."
“Our discussion involved killing babies. It involved rape. It included the most violent expressions about how to treat other people."
➼ Leora Kaye is the mother of a 14-year-old daughter and a 10-year-old son. He lives in Park Slope.
I am a reform rabbi and we have many friends in Israel. We're very open in our house about how we feel about all kinds of things — we're not very defensive and secretive. So the Israel debate on October 7th was not news to my children. My husband and I both told the kids that this was a scary, terrible morning, and Israel was not prepared for it, and it was done by people trying to do as much harm as possible to Israel and the Jews. The discussion involved killing babies. It involved rape. It included the most violent expressions about how to treat other people.
And we also talked about the fact that we don't live there, and it's not right to try to focus on any of that. And we said that caring for innocent Palestinians cannot and should not be lost. We had built the foundation to talk about the conflict in Israel before October 7, and so it allowed us to say to our children, “It is very difficult for each of us to decide whether the response to the attack is the right direction or the wrong direction . But we know the right direction is to make sure we have a place in our hearts and souls for the innocent Palestinians who asked for none of this."
We were very honest about what had happened in a way that felt appropriate for the age of each of them. We would rather share the truth with them and then get them out safely into the world than protect them from things they are going to hear elsewhere. The last thing I want is for my kids to come and say, "How come you didn't tell us?"
Of course, none of my children are old enough to understand everything I've said, and I say this with love for both of them. They are smart, sophisticated New York kids. The only thing I know they could see clearly is that their dad and I were both in a traumatic mental space.
As I was talking to my daughter this week, I was worried that she would share stories of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionist stuff, and I was glad to hear that it didn't happen to her. The war has not sunk deep into any of our children yet, for that is as far as it goes. It is not on their mind until it is discovered.
"I wish the information about the war came from me rather than the kids at her school, but we can't take back our choices as parents."
➼ H. is the mother of a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old. He lives in midtown Manhattan.
I am a first generation Palestinian American. My mother is a Nakba survivor, driven from her home during the Arab-Israeli war of 1948. My mom is a very big part of my life. My kids know that the Jinda she is Palestinian, she lost her homeland and could not return. For a long time, we talked around what that meant. My children have many Israeli friends and many Israeli teachers. We raised them with the aim of upholding the human dignity of all.
When Hamas attacked Israeli civilians on October 7, we did not share this news with our children. It's horrible and awful, and we didn't think it was right for them to know. We also knew it would immediately lead to an aggressive reaction. But a few days ago, my 8-year-old daughter came home from school and said her friends were talking about how Palestinians killed Israelis. My child is so young and I was hoping the kids weren't having these conversations. I wish the information about the war came from me rather than the kids at her school, but we can't take back our choices as parents.
He said, "I couldn't help but jump into the conversation and say, 'Palestinians have been under occupation for 75 years and they've been killed.' We told her we understood why she felt the need to share it this way, but also asked her not to bother unless someone addressed her directly. We wanted to avoid the possibility of unnecessary conflict with her friends.
She said, “Mom, I feel like everyone hates the Palestinians right now. What if my friends don't want to be friends with me?' It was a very difficult time for me as a parent. I said, "Number one, if they tell you that, they're not friends." I entered history. I told her that Palestinians, Muslims, Christians and Jews have coexisted peacefully on this land for centuries. And what Hamas did was outrageous and horrible. And the struggle for freedom should never involve killing or harming civilians.
He also saw the posters that have been put up in the city with the information about the Israeli civilians who have unfortunately been abducted. He basically said, “Mom, I see everyone stopping to look at all the people who were kidnapped in Israel. Why isn't anyone talking about the Palestinians being killed? The children who are killed?' He has this realization that there is a hierarchy of value attached to lives.
Although I recognize her very real feelings, I explained to her that the people in her community don't hate Palestinians and they don't hate her. The horrible murder of that little boy in Illinois... I never want him to hear about it. [ cry ]
My mental state was rubbish, to be honest. It's impossible to be a parent. I lose sleep, I cry a lot. I am very emotional. I am extremely lethargic and very abstract. I address how I feel the dialogue has turned its back on the Palestinians in the US.
“I practiced hide and seek with my kids. I said to them, 'What would you do if someone knocked on the door, telling you to come in?'"
➼ J. is the mother of a 4-year-old son and a 6-year-old son. He lives on the Upper East Side.
My plan was not to talk to my boys about what's going on in Israel because they're young and don't really know what's going on right now. They also don't know about Middle East politics, and they don't know about the Holocaust.
But they both attend a small Orthodox Jewish day school where children of different ages usually spend time together, so she hears the older children talk a lot. So, a few days after October 7th, my 6-year-old son came home from school and said, "Mom, Cristiano Ronaldo wants to kill all the Jews." He was so upset because he loves football and he loves Cristiano Ronaldo. I think it was something he heard from other guys. I immediately said, "I don't think that's true." And I convinced him that it was not true, that Cristiano Ronaldo does not want to hurt anyone and he never said such a thing. And I thought we might be done with the matter. But then, two days later, he came home and said, “Mom, there's a war in Israel. And people are trying to kill the Jews in Israel."
So my husband and I sat down with him and asked, “How are you? What do you think is going on?' And so we validated that, yes, there is a war. And it's not just something that happened – it's ongoing. And I said to him: "People came to Israel and hurt some and killed some." I didn't tell him about the kidnappings because that would terrify him. Saying "people were killed" is too abstract for him, but saying someone came and snatched children from their parents is concrete. He would understand. And then my husband had the idea that we could frame what's going on in a pedantic way because that's what our kids understand and what they learn in school. So he said, “Do you remember Purim when Haman tried to kill the Jews? There are people who are around right now who also want to do this. And we must be strong, we must unite and have faith." And my son said – because he thinks of everything like Minecraft – he said, "So are we going to kill them all?" And I said to him: “No, we don't have to kill everyone who hates us. We have to protect ourselves, to make sure they don't hurt us anymore." And I think that's a very difficult concept for such a specific thinker. But with his beautiful innocence, my son said, “Don't worry, Papi. Hashem always protects us." My sons believe this narrative because they are so familiar. I don't know if I believe it, but I'm glad they do.
My boys wear a uniform to school and I've always been okay with letting them wear a kippah and the uniform, which has a Jewish star on it, to and from school. But recently, I told them, “We're not going to wear these uniforms on the street anymore. We'll put them away. Wearing a kippah is private — that's for our home and school, but it's not for the street.' My older son kind of took to that.
But at some point, he came to me and said: “I heard that everyone hates the Jews. It is true that;" I said, “Well, you know how we don't wear kippahs outside anymore? It's because there are some people who want to hurt us because of who we are. And we don't have to make it so easy for them to recognize who we are."
Last night, my son came into my bedroom and said, “Mom, I heard something at school today. I heard that someone was trying to take Jewish children away from their families. I don't want any of you to take me. Can I sleep in your bed?' I told him, "This is something that happened somewhere far away, but it doesn't happen here." And then he asked me, “What would you do if someone came? Would you protect me?' I told him that I am very strong and can face anyone who comes. And he believed it and went back to his bed. I didn't tell him it happened in Israel.
I learned about the Holocaust in kindergarten when I went to Jewish day school and have had recurring nightmares throughout my life of people coming for me and having to hide and then run and escape. I think part of me has always known that there are people who will come and try to kill the Jews again. I recently practiced hide and seek with my kids. I said to them, “What would you do if I told you to hide and be quiet? What would you do if someone knocked on the door and said they should come in?' Because I no longer feel absolutely certain that this could not happen.
“You don't want your child to be labeled a Hamas supporter. This can ruin their future forever."
➼ A. is the mother of a 16-year-old daughter and an 18-year-old daughter. He lives in Long Island.
I immigrated to the United States from Afghanistan. My daughters are more ahead of the news than I am because of TikTok — and my older daughter has a hard time seeing celebrities and friends posting about Israel but not acknowledging the loss of the Palestinians. He feels it strongly.
I had to approve her posts for a few days. He wanted to know, "Can I post a prayer for Palestine or support the children?" She watched everyone in her circle to understand what people were doing and talking about. He said, "Mom, I don't know if they're going to think I'm, God forbid, a Hamas supporter."
Our children are afraid to speak their minds. They try to understand: "Why are Muslims treated this way?" They feel more different than I did growing up.
I don't want my children to grow up with anger, to have any, God forbid, racism against other people. My older daughter was worried about one of her friends who was posting about the casualties in Israel. He said, “It doesn't look good. I'm worried about her. Is it right to take her to see what she's doing?' I said, "Of course."
My daughter said, "What if she thinks that because I'm Muslim, maybe I'm not real?" I encouraged her to check in, and they had a great back and forth.
He is a freshman in college and a member of the Muslim Student Association. A few days after the October 7 attacks, the group wrote "FREE GAZA" in chalk on the ground. He came home to me and said, "Mom, do you think it's bad that I was with them?" She was worried about how others would see her. And I'll be very honest with you, I want them to be on the right side of history, but I don't want them to take it as a risk.
I take the word radicalized in the media. I haven't lost sight of the fact that when Muslims held a rally, our mayor presented them as Hamas supporters. You don't want your child to be labeled a Hamas supporter. This can ruin your future forever.
“I grimaced. And my daughter turned to me and said, 'Is that Israel?'"
➼ Rachel Sklar is the mother of an 8-year-old daughter. Lives in Gramercy.
We waited to cross the street on the Upper West Side on the evening of October 7th. I looked at my phone and saw another news about the terrorist attack and made a face. My daughter turned to me and said, "Is that Israel?"
All day I tried to secretly read the news, to keep it to myself. But it turns out he knew it all along and hadn't said anything. I asked her how she knew about Israel. And he said: "I saw it at the hotel." She had spent that morning with her dad, who lives out of state but was in town for the night at a hotel. Turns out the TV was on in the room that morning right before they checked out, and he saw the news. Then my daughter asked me, "Is Danielle dead?"
Danielle is a close friend of my daughter who lives in Israel. The girls met at our local playground in the summer and really found each other. It turned out they were renting an apartment in our building, just one floor up. We tried to see Danielle and her family as much as possible before they return to Israel at the end of August. Thank God I had already texted Danielle's mother earlier that day and had heard from her, and was able to immediately tell my daughter that Danielle was safe. Something you should know about me: When I was 17, I had a friend who went on a trip to Israel and died — killed by a Hamas grenade.
The older your kids get, the more they're out of your reach—especially when they go to school. When my daughter came home from school last week, I asked her what people were saying. He has Israeli friends and we live in a multilingual city. There are kids of various backgrounds around her and they talk about it in different and 8-year-old ways. She told me that one of her friends said that the Israeli army might come to New York. I said and like, that's not going to happen. And if they do that, you know, Israel is an ally of the United States. And he knows that children died. Not because I told her. I think he learned from friends. As parents, we are called to respond to very specific things — what our children bring home.
Once I realized that my daughter knew about the attack on Israel, I decided to listen to it The Ten News , a great children's news podcast that I trust. But I turned it on and in the first few minutes, there were so many concepts that he didn't really know. It was "Israel", "terrorist group Hamas". And I wanted to go back… Let me google a map. And so we started with a map of Israel. I wanted to give her more context than what I grew up with because what I grew up with is very different from the heightened awareness I have now, that there is injustice to the Palestinians. It is not a good versus evil binary. A horrible, violent thing happened to the Jews. But I wanted to make a distinction between the people who did it – Hamas – and the Palestinians they claim did it.
I was a bit wrong on Friday, October 13, when many of us were very concerned about a Hamas video that was released calling for protests. There was no credible threat to New York City, but there was an increased police presence in front of my kids' school, and my private messages and those with my mom were blowing up with Jewish friends freaking out, questioning whether to send their kids to her. the day. The distance between feeling good as a Jew, even in New York, and feeling nervous, is very small, especially in a time like this. We were all in the cheetah. I said something to my daughter like, “Maybe you shouldn't go to the park after school today. Let's play it safe." And he asked: “Why? Why isn't it safe?' It was the first time she started to look scared for herself.
We had a vigil for Israel in our neighborhood and my daughter attended with another family who is Israeli. Going with them allowed her to perceive the solemnity. If he had gone with me, he might have pulled me or asked me for things or whined. But I could see her from afar, sitting quietly and thoughtfully. He really rose to the occasion and understood.
Over the last decade of my professional life, I have moved in every direction of social justice. And when you're involved in the broader movement, a lot of times it's just easier to not get involved in Israel and make your cross and hope it doesn't show up. But this moment forced me… one of the first things I texted a friend was, “I guess someone is going to Hebrew school soon. My mistake." Because I need help with this.
"I wanted him to have a greater understanding that all was not well with the world - that it was not the same as it was on Friday."
➼ Nevi is the mother of a 6-year-old son. He lives in Park Slope.
I am a black woman who is not a Christian, but I went to Israel as part of a scholarship for a charity that exposes leaders to Israel, and I have met amazing children in both Israel and Palestine. Before this happened, I had planned a trip to the UAE. I have friends in the Middle East and many friends in Israel. I have stayed in a kibbutz.
On Saturday, October 7th, as soon as I heard what was going on, I turned on the news — MSNBC and CNN — and kept it on all day. I was getting updates and crying non-stop — and that was before it all came out. If we didn't have errands to go to that Sunday, I think I would have sat there and watched the news all weekend.
And so, my son definitely saw the news, and he heard the conversations I had with my husband, and he saw my shock and emotion, and he wanted to know what was going on. Then I said: “There has been a kidnapping. A lot of people have been kidnapped and injured, and all their families are so sad, and I'm so sad for them." He knows the word kidnapping because when he runs ahead of me on the street, I sometimes say, “Don't run ahead. They might kidnap you." But until then, I don't think he thought of it as something that could actually happen in real life.
As we talked, I wanted him to have a greater understanding that all was not well with the world—that it was not as it was on Friday. All was right with his immediate world right now, but those things could change in an instant. And it's heartbreaking. I didn't hide it. I wasn't going to hide my emotion and sadness at the state of our world right now. She may have peers who have been traumatized by this – I have been traumatized by this – and I wanted her to be able to have age-appropriate conversations with them if they needed to.
My son grew up watching the news his whole life. He doesn't ask to see the news, but we put it on every evening. I'm a big fan of David Muir and he watches a lot with me. It started in the pandemic when I was tuning into those Cuomo press briefings, like Must-See TV, and continued with George Floyd and seeing black people die on the news as almost regular programming. I didn't want to protect him from what was going on because, really, that's what we're living through right now. This is the reality. In my mind, being shielded from everything doesn't equip you to be a citizen.
On October 7th, we did not end up having a discussion about the war. In fact, I don't think I've ever used that word with him. But I told him, “These atrocities have happened throughout history. And this is another atrocity that happened." And then I realized that now was the right time to watch a "kid-friendly" video about Anne Frank, to show him that perspective. And I found one on YouTube that I really liked, that was really effective.
In the days and weeks since then, I've stopped getting the news all the time. His school sent him an email saying kids his age shouldn't be watching the news, and in fact, I should have been watching less of it myself. But we still watch it sometimes. He's seen tanks on TV — he asked me, “Is that the police? Are the police involved?' — and I have used the word bombings . He sees everything as good vs. bad, and wants to know who the good guys are. It's a privilege to be able to keep him in a bubble like that, because if this war wasn't on foreign soil, if it were here, we wouldn't have the luxury of being able to moderate the conversation. There are many children his age in the Middle East—and around the world—who know what war is because they are literally in it.
I want him to appreciate that you don't have to physically be in a location to feel the weight of what's happening in that geographic location. I said to him, “Do we know the people who were kidnapped? No, but we sure know what it's like to be sad. And we know what it's like to be afraid."
The other day we were walking around our neighborhood and found the poster for a 3 year old hostage named Aviv. He saw me looking at it and said, "What happened?" I said to him, “This is one of the kidnapped children. It's only 3.” He recognized it. And then we started walking again.
These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity. Some names have been changed to protect children's privacy.
*Cover Photo: Illustration: The Cut; Photo Getty Images
His Anya Kamenetz and Julia Edelstein
Source: thecut