The body remembers: On documenting trauma with care

A, from a kibbutz on the Gaza border, sits in front of the camera. Her speech is fluent, but her body tells a different story – frozen, tense, and barely breathing. She begins to recount the events of Oct. 7, the morning terrorists infiltrated the kibbutz, firing through the door of the safe room, wounding her parents, her daughter, and herself. As her testimony unfolds, her body seems to shut down – she becomes stiller and increasingly sealed off. Her stillness speaks volumes.

“Every time I talk about it,” she says, “I feel as if the cold has entered my bones.” And yet, she continues because documenting it matters. Ensuring that the events are not forgotten matters. When she finishes her account, she exhales deeply – a small release of the immense burden her body has been holding.

N, sitting in her home on the Gaza border, shares how she and her husband, a member of the IDF, captured several terrorists on Oct. 7. They handcuffed them and extracted critical information that helped protect others that day. Her voice trembles. She coughs and struggles to speak, her throat tight even after sips of water. Since they are members of the Druze community and speak fluent Arabic, the couple managed to obtain vital intelligence – possibly preventing further harm.

But the hardest part to speak about is life after Oct. 7. As N begins to describe it, her hands shake. Her breathing shortens. Her body “remembers the pain.” Sharon Rapaport, the interviewer, gently interrupts and asks her to ground herself: ”Place your feet on the floor, feel the ground beneath you. You’re here, now.” This simple grounding technique reconnects the person to the present, helping to reduce emotional flooding and dissociation.

Sharon Rapaport (credit: Courtesy Sharon Rapaport)

Post-Oct. 7 documentation

Originally developed by Dr. Sarah Evans in the 1990s, this technique has become a cornerstone of trauma and PTSD therapy, bringing people back into their bodies when memory overwhelms. The simple act of consciously placing one’s soles on the floor and feeling the surface underneath allows the mind to reorient to the physical reality. Focus becomes possible again. The dissociative narrative loop is interrupted, and the individual returns to the tangible world.

Moments like this remind us that trauma testimony isn’t just about words. The body testifies, too.

The aim of documentation is not solely to preserve memory for the sake of history, research, or justice. It is also a form of storytelling that can help survivors make sense of their trauma.

By sharing their testimonies in response to open-ended questions, survivors may uncover new details, process the painful experiences, and gain fresh insight. This process helps them reshape their memories and reclaim fragments of themselves.

In the wave of civic mobilization after the Oct. 7 massacre, many documentation initiatives emerged. Journalists, researchers, and civil society organizations began collecting testimonies, driven by the urgency of preserving the truth. Yad Vashem and Holocaust survivor testimonies served as a model for the idea that testimony can counter denial, distortion, and forgetting.

Established in response to the Hamas attacks, the Civil Commission on Oct. 7 Crimes by Hamas Against Women and Children began collecting information shortly after that terrible day and is dedicated to documenting, analyzing, and raising international awareness about the crimes committed by Hamas.

In December 2024, the commission published a groundbreaking report titled “Kinocide: The Weaponization of Families,” introducing the term “kinocide” to describe the systematic targeting and destruction of family units as a distinct form of violence. Now, a year and a half later, this work continues with renewed urgency and depth.

Rapaport, a therapist with an MA in oral history, as well as psychotherapy training at the Tavistock and Portman NHS Foundation Trust in London, contributes her clinical and narrative expertise. Advocate Irit Gazit, the other member of the team, brings extensive legal expertise in representing victims of sexual abuse, domestic violence, and at-risk children. Both of them had to step slightly beyond their familiar professional roles to meet the unique demands of this work.

This holistic approach – placing survivors at the center of the process – balances historical memory, legal accountability, and the emotional well-being of survivors.

It reflects Gazit and Rapaport’s belief that Oct. 7 is not an isolated event but an inseparable part of each survivor’s story.

They consider it crucial to maintain, at all times, the delicate balance between accountability and the emotional well-being of all present and the credibility of the testimony, all of which are central to the process.

In each testimony, they ask about life before Oct. 7, life after it, and thoughts about the future. Their aim is to help survivors integrate their experiences and trauma into the broader narratives of their lives so that the trauma does not remain isolated as a singular, paralyzing event but becomes part of a continuous and resilient journey.

Trauma doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It shapes how people see the world they live in, and it explains their choices in the present. Recognizing the impact of the trauma requires a high level of sensitivity to detect signs of distress that may emerge during the testimony. Therefore, it should be accompanied by professional knowledge and training in trauma and post-trauma It also means creating an environment that is supportive and ethically sound – one where the survivor feels safe enough to speak.

From retelling to reflection

Although the setting of a testimony session can resemble therapy, it is not the same, despite containing therapeutic elements, such as empathy, a safe environment, and the space to speak. Instead, it serves as a sensitive and respectful tool for working with trauma, without deepening the wound.

Rapaport, drawing on her therapeutic background, makes a clear distinction. Unlike ongoing therapy, which builds a long-term relationship between client and therapist, allowing for deep processing of traumatic experiences, a testimony is typically a one-time encounter. The key is to establish intimacy in a very short time – beginning the minute the interviewers enter the room. Trauma-sensitive testimony involves creating a respectful, open, and emotionally safe space sufficient for a person to begin speaking their truth.

As a lawyer, Gazit is used to fighting for victims’ rights, helping them be heard in legal systems that often overlook them. But here, the work is quieter. It involves active listening, minimal intervention, and preserving the integrity of the narrative. Nevertheless, the aim is to make sure that the testimony itself is meaningful – a step in the person’s healing process. Even though Gazit and Rapaport do not provide legal aid or representation in these cases, whenever possible, they connect survivors to additional resources such as therapy, legal aid, and national insurance services.

Trauma-sensitive testimony transforms a moment of retelling into a moment of reflection. The witness does not just recount what happened but begins to understand how it reverberates in his or her present. Through this process, the story becomes clearer, the emotions are identified, and healing becomes possible.

Testimony as control

One of the core principles guiding the testimony process is the search for moments of strength. These moments allow those sharing their stories to leave the testimony with new insights about themselves and a renewed sense of personal power.

Take A, for example. She described a deep sense of losing control over her life following the Oct. 7 attacks. Yet, on that day, she showed remarkable composure, managing the situation inside the safe room with her mother and two children, taking control amid the chaos.

However, in the days that followed, her life unraveled. She left her kibbutz; her partner – whom she described as the love of her life – left; her children began struggling; and she still hasn’t found a permanent home.

As the interview with A neared its end, the interviewers asked her: “What are you proud of from that day?” She responded that in the safe room, she realized that she had been fully in control. The interviewers validated her experience and, through that moment, were able to shape an empowering narrative that allowed A to reconnect with a meaningful sense of strength amid the devastation.

The testimony itself becomes a space to gently regain some measure of control – so brutally taken away on Oct. 7. The process is designed to empower. The witnesses choose the time, the place, who will hear their story, and what they want to share. Before any testimony is heard, Gazit and Rapaport ensure full, informed consent. At any moment, the interviewee is free to pause, stop, or withdraw.

Gazit is a lawyer specializing in victims of abuse, and Rapaport is a therapist and oral historian. (credit: Civil Commission/ Eyal Zaid)

Delicate triangle

In cases such as those of A and N, the goal is not just to document what happened. It’s also to help weave the interviewees’ experiences into a renewed life story. When physical reactions surface, Gazit and Rapaport listen to the body and to the story and offer grounding techniques: breathing, mindful pauses, and calming tools.

The delicate triangle between therapy, documentation, and justice requires constant balance. On the one hand, the aim is to protect those giving testimony. On the other, the documentation must be precise, meaningful for research, and – if the witness chooses – legally admissible.

What draws Gazit and Rapaport to this work? Why listen to such harrowing accounts of Oct. 7?

Rapaport says: “It’s important for me to feel that I’m not just taking something from the witness but am offering something in return. Through our protective methodology, it moves me deeply to see that even alongside the pain, people recall moments of heroism, control, responsibility, and love. These, too, are part of the story.”

Gazit adds: “I’m proud to be leading, alongside Sharon, a process that puts the witnesses at the center – giving them a voice and a way to tell their story on their own terms. And I truly hope these encounters offer something meaningful in return.” 

Irit Gazit is a lawyer who serves as the director of the Documentation Unit at the Civil Commission on October 7th Crimes by Hamas Against Women and Children.

Sharon Rapaport is a documentarist at the Civil Commission, specializing in oral history. She is a researcher with three decades of experience in trauma documentation, as well as a therapist. She also works at Yad Vashem and the Israel Oral History Association.