BURST
When Hamas attacked Kibbutz Kfar Aza on Oct. 7, 2023, a WhatsApp chat connected women living through the assault in real time. In the months and years since, the chat group has remained a communication link for survivors who lost relatives, homes and the ordinary lives they once shared.
That group is at the centre of Where Do We Belong?, a new documentary produced and edited by Canadian-Israeli filmmaker Igal Hecht and directed by Israeli filmmaker Dotan Nave. Rather than retelling Oct. 7 through the attack itself, the film follows its longer trajectory of two and a half years: grief, displacement, medical recovery, parenthood, group meetings and the difficult prospect of beginning again.
The film premieres on Israel’s Channel 8 on Oct. 5. It will then screen Oct. 7 at Toronto’s Zionist Centre and Oct. 8 at Vancouver’s Norman Rothstein Theatre, as part of the Vancouver Jewish Film Festival.
Hecht, born in Israel and raised in Toronto, will attend both Canadian screenings for post-film Q&As.
Over a career spanning nearly three decades, Hecht has produced more than 70 documentary films and 25 television series.
Dave Gordon interviewed Hecht for the National Post.
What did following these women for more than two years allow you to show that an immediate account of Oct. 7 could not?
You see the mourning process unfold and, especially with Jessica, the realization that there is no alternative but to move forward. These women endured the tragedy together in real time through their WhatsApp group. They lost loved ones and are deeply interconnected, as happens in a close-knit kibbutz. Their friendship became a support system: they mourned together, moved together, and have chosen to remain neighbours through three relocations. The film shows how essential that kind of support is — not only after October 7, but in life generally.
You and Dotan began filming three weeks after Oct. 7. Why make the women’s group the narrative spine?
Dotan deserves the credit. He was volunteering at Kibbutz Kfar Aza and met Amit; after a few weeks of getting to know the women, the project began. We understood that their WhatsApp group was an extraordinary way to tell the story: it connected them as they experienced the attack in real time.
Originally, we expected to film for six months. But rather than stopping at the attack and immediate aftermath, we decided to follow what came next: the daily work of surviving — raising children, going back to work, managing social obligations, and finding a way forward after losing a husband or a home. We gradually stripped away some of the Oct. 7 material to focus on a story that had not been told before.
That longer timeline made stories possible that we could not have anticipated. Ellie, who was severely burned along with her husband and two-year-old daughter, rebuilt her life, completed her studies, became a doctor and later gave birth to another child. That is a story of recovery and renewal, and it would have been impossible to tell had we stopped after six months or a year.
What does the title, Where Do We Belong?, mean to the women?
It is less a question of where they belong geographically, than where they belong in life now. Jessica must ask whether she can find a new partner and how she moves forward. The larger question is whether they return to Kfar Aza, go elsewhere, or remain together. The film does not resolve that question, because many of the women have not resolved it themselves.
One survivor says her views on coexistence have changed. Did you find that more broadly?
Not everyone spoke openly about it, but I think many have experienced a profound reassessment — not only about coexistence, but about the reality across the border. Many Gaza-envelope communities were left-leaning and committed to peace; some residents helped Gazans reach Israeli hospitals. For people who embraced coexistence, Oct. 7 was profoundly shattering. Noa had taught her students to believe in it, but she now feels that belief was not reciprocated.
What did the women teach you about how people endure long-term trauma?
It demonstrates the strength and resilience of these women: their sacrifices for friends and children, their ability to remain standing, pursue their dreams and care for one another. We focus on three women but portray the larger group. I do not know if resilience is unique to women, but this group embodies it powerfully. To me, they also embody the resilience of Israelis in the face of enormous horror. Their strength, and determination, deserve to be celebrated.
What were the ground rules around consent and access during such a long project?
There were no forbidden subjects, but Dotan built a thoughtful, trusting relationship with the women. We did not push people. We had to judge the day: if someone was having a difficult time, we would not force a painful conversation. The first year especially, we were conscious of trauma and determined not to be exploitative. Some shoots were cancelled when participants did not feel up to them.
What do you hope Canadian audiences take from the film?
I want them to understand that the trauma did not end on Oct. 7. These women had to go on raising children, working, moving from place to place and trying to imagine a future after what happened to their families and community. This is not chiefly a political film. It is a human story about people connected by trauma who are trying, day by day, to heal and move forward.
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