On this Israeli Memorial Day, Israel’s Bedouin community does not ask for prizes, budgets, or titles. We ask for only one thing: that you remember. Remember that we were there—an inseparable part of the struggle, the defense, the sacrifice, and the loss. We loved this land even when Israeli governments pushed us to the margins. On October 7, 2023 and in the days after, when we defended our home, we were not on the margins—we stood at the heart of the action, acting from our values, from responsibility, from genuine concern for everyone who lives here.
October 7 is not just another day on the calendar. It is a rupture, a cry, and it was also a moment of reckoning for the Bedouin society in the Negev. A society that is often portrayed negatively was revealed as it truly is: wounded but strong, excluded but committed, in pain but heroic. Despite its many identities and complexities, the Bedouin community stood shoulder to shoulder with all parts of Israeli society—Jews and Arabs alike. Not from the margins, but from the heart; out of choice, responsibility, and deep partnership.
Alongside the pain and the trauma, hope was also born—not a hope of slogans, but a hope of actions. A hope of solidarity, of responsibility. Fifteen men from the Bedouin community went out that Saturday morning to rescue families and help survivors at the Nova music festival and in the communities near Gaza. They did so without weapons, without protection—only with open hearts.
Amer Abu Sabila, of blessed memory, ran to save two girls in Sderot and was killed by gunfire. Six children from the Bedouin community were killed, and three more women lost their lives because their homes were not fortified. Alongside those who were killed, six Bedouin civilians were kidnapped to Gaza: three of them—Bilal and Aisha Ziyadne and Farhan al-Qadi—returned home, while Samer Talalka and Youssef and Hamza Ziyadne did not come back alive. Samer managed to escape captivity but was shot and killed, and the other two were returned after their deaths.
This is not a story of the Israeli periphery. This is a story of the heart and soul of Israel—the story of Israeli society as a whole. The Bedouin community fought for our country with and without uniforms: as doctors, as nurses, as paramedics, as farmers, as command center operators. Women and men who acted out of a sense of mission. Evan as part of a community so often excluded stood at the frontlines of the Israeli story, we did not wait for an invitation. We acted.
Unity, as they say, does not depend on agreement. It depends on the ability to respect, to listen, and to live together despite our differences. The Bedouin community is not the margins. It is a beating heart, an inseparable part of Israeli society. We bear responsibility, we pay the price, and we also ask to be full partners. On this Memorial Day, we remember everyone—from all communities, from all religions. Women, men, and children who fell defending life.
Precisely from shared pain, a shared hope can grow. Not just to live together—but to build together a future of mutual respect, of life in partnership. Not one beside the other—but together, hand in hand.
Wahib Al-Huzayel is a reservist lieutenant colonel and a social activist from Rahat.
