In Sderot, a city that has endured countless rocket barrages over the past two decades, the extraordinary story of Danit Cohen, a city native, stands out. Danit, who lived with fear in an impossible reality for years, chose to channel it into tireless action and boundless volunteerism.
“In the past, when the sirens went off, I was the first to evacuate,” says Danit. But on October 8, she made a completely different decision. Moments after landing back in Israel from vacation, she was already on her way to Sderot, where her daughters were staying with their grandmother during the terrorist attack.
From Sderot to the Center – and Back Again
Danit was born and raised in Sderot but moved to central Israel in her youth. Later in life, she married and had three children – her eldest son is about to enlist in the IDF, and her twin daughters are nine. After divorcing and facing economic hardship, she returned to Sderot, opened a hair salon, and rebuilt her life in the city where she was born.
On the morning of October 7, as she waited at the airport in Turkey on her way back to Israel from vacation, Danit’s phone suddenly lit up with a rapid stream of “Red Alert” notifications – real-time warnings of incoming rocket fire in Israel. “At first, I thought it was a malfunction,” she recalls, “Even as a Sderot native, I had never experienced such a relentless stream of alerts. But very quickly, I realized this was something completely different. I was there in the airport, unable to get real answers about what was happening in Israel, unable to cry in front of everyone. It was insane. And my kids, they were in Sderot with my mom.”
“I Drafted Myself Under Emergency Order 8”
Despite the city being in danger, she didn’t think twice the day after she landed – she headed straight to Sderot. “When I arrived, I saw the devastation – the destruction the terrorists had left behind. And I saw something I hadn’t seen before – tons of soldiers everywhere. At that moment, I decided to call myself up under ‘Order 8’.” She initially focused on helping soldiers but soon realized that the remaining residents needed help, too. She transformed her backyard salon into an impromptu relief center – offering free haircuts, laundry, hot meals – whatever people needed. “We received a lot of donated food, and gradually, I noticed that my neighbors who hadn’t evacuated were left without assistance. So, we started helping them, too. After October 7, people didn’t know how to manage in Sderot, so we stepped in.”
Danit used her money to purchase refrigerators, place them in her yard, connect them to her apartment’s electricity, and create a WhatsApp group for city residents. The refrigerators were filled with donated food from bakeries, caterers, and individual donors. “I started for the soldiers but quickly realized this is something much bigger – a calling.”
The Children Who Stayed — Between Courage and Fear
On the morning of October 7, as the deadly attack unfolded, Danit’s mother, who was caring for her granddaughters at the time, remained remarkably composed. “She didn’t panic. She didn’t tell them terrorists were outside, and she said it was the IDF. She wanted to protect them – so they wouldn’t be afraid.” In the early days, the girls didn’t know the whole truth. “They were in the safe room (Mamad, a reinforced security room built into Israeli homes for protection during rocket attacks), and she tried to maintain a sense of routine. They saw her sitting at the computer, checking what was happening – but not showing panic. She managed to give them a sense of safety.”
As the days went on and the situation intensified, that initial shield of calm could no longer hold. “Over time, it became impossible to shield the children from the reality of the terrorist attacks. The girls didn’t just witness what was happening; they became part of the response. They helped organize food boxes and assisted neighbors who stayed in the city. Every day, they visited Igor, a 103-year-old neighbor and Holocaust survivor – and brought him food. He gave them chocolates in return, and that moved them. They learned a life lesson – ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'”
And yet, even acts of kindness and resilience couldn’t erase the fear. “Their room was the safe room – the place they had always felt secure – but now they refuse to go in. After several sleepless nights, we switched rooms. I gave them my room and moved into the safe room.” The echoes of that day still follow them long after the sirens have stopped. “Every sound jolts them – a door slam, a siren even far away, even a passing motorcycle. They cling to me, asking if it’s starting again. That’s the hardest part – watching them live like this.”
Danit never imagined she would see Sderot like this – battered, scarred, almost unrecognizable. The images of October 7 and its aftermath are seared into her memory. “In the past, when there were sirens, I was the first to flee,” she admits. “But this time was different. I saw how they shattered the city – tearing down landmarks like the police station and the giant stone that once stood in the town square – a symbol of Sderot. I saw people killed, burned cars, cars smashed utility poles, and so many soldiers. I was angry. Deeply angry. I told myself, they won’t break me.”
Leaving the city is still an option, though not easy.” I live near the exit from the city — but it’s also the route the terrorists used to enter. I don’t want my daughters to live in fear, but I don’t want to give up our home.” As for the possibility of renewed war in Gaza, Danit is frank: “I’m afraid every day. If war breaks out again, I will have food in the safe room for a few days, but honestly, If I can, I’ll just take my daughters and my mother and run. I want my daughters to grow up with their mother.”
Recently, a tumor was discovered in Danit’s body. And like every challenge she has faced, she confronts it fiercely. It’s hard to ignore the possibility that recent events’ stress and emotional upheaval may have contributed to its development. Despite needing to slow down, she continues her community work in Sderot, yearning for peace. “I always ask God for serenity. I’m a mother first – everything else comes second. Even when the past reminds me of the darkest moments – the fear that once made me run, the painful memories of loss and destruction – I continue to give, act, and receive. I know that volunteering is the way to restore hope, to rebuild the community, and to bring people together – even when the future holds fear and uncertainty.”