PITTSBURGH, PA. - During Rosh Hashanah services, there is a tradition of saying a Kaddish for those who died in the past year. It's a moving ritual when members of the congregations state the names of those whom they are grieving.
This year, while attending services at Dor Hadash, a congregation that was targeted during the Pittsburgh Synagogue Massacre, I requested that we include Mariam Abu Dagga. Dagga was a 33-year-old AP reporter who was killed in late August during a targeted Israeli strike on Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis, her hometown, where she grew up.
Mariam was a brave journalist and the mother of a 12-year-old son. In 2023, Mariam could have been evacuated from Gaza, but instead, she sent her son to live with her father in the UAE. Mariam stayed behind in Gaza to report on the genocide being committed there.
Dagga is one of at least 195 Palestinian journalists killed in Gaza since Israel's attacks began in 2023 according to the Committee to Protect Journalists, More journalists have been killed in Gaza than With each announcement of the death of a reporter, I find myself, as a conflict zone reporter, trying to find out as much as I can about the journalist who was killed. Mariam's story struck me especially.
I never knew Mariam, but when I saw her photo taken by her colleague Jehad Alshrafi, I knew the look on her face. She held her helmet in her hand, her camera over her shoulder, and a stare that went a thousand miles across oceans. Every reporter knows that look on the face of Mariam—the look of feeling overwhelmed, tired, but determined to do the story.
Despite the pain on her face, she looked beautiful, and you could tell how her beauty shone through in her work, despite the intense pain. She left behind a 12-year-old son.
As a journalist, who has risked my life to report in conflict zones in Brazil, I know that the reason reporters take risks with their lives comes from a place of deep love. You take risks to witness tragedy because you have such a deep love for the people suffering, and as a journalist, you hope that by telling their stories, you can somehow alleviate their suffering.
In one of the last social media posts written the day before she died, Mariam said she thought it was more important than ever to be a journalist in Gaza.
"Every place is dangerous, is hit by airstrikes. In every home there is a story. In every home, there is a detainee. In every home there is suffering," said Mariam.
Mariam, who lost her mother during Israel's attack on Gaza, was well aware that she could also die in Gaza. She had written in her will to her 12-year-old son that she took these risks so that he could have a better life.
"Never forget me and remember that your mother did everything she could to make you happy, comfortable, and at ease," wrote Mariam. "I want you to pray for me, not cry over me, so that I can be happy. I want you to raise my head high, be successful, distinguished, of great standing."
On Rosh Hashanah, I found myself praying for Mariam Dagga at Dor Hadash in Pittsburgh. The synagogue I prayed in was targeted in the Tree of Life Pittsburgh Synagogue Massacre on October 27th, 2018, by a mass killer, due to the congregation's support of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society.
Eleven Jews, from three different congregations that held services in the building, were killed that day. One of those killed was Dr. Jerry Rabonwitz, a member of Dor Hadash, where I attend services.
It was the largest massacre of Jews in American history. I watched a reporter as they pulled out the bodies that day. It horrified and still horrifies. I can recall how cold the drizzle was on that late October morning; any time I think of that day, I remember it.
A few years after the massacre, I got to know members of Dor Hadash, a pretty progressive Jewish Reconstructionist synagogue. Some members of Dor Hadsah involved in the Jewish Assistance Fund helped me out when I got sick with a bad case of COVID and couldn't work. They later invited me to attend high holiday services with them.
The Rabbi of Dor Hadash, Amy Bradack, traveled to the West Bank in 2023 on a trip organized by the group, Shleimut, to visit Palestinians who were under attack from the Israeli Occupation Forces and Zionist settlers.
Speaking of meeting a Palestinian who feared violence, Bardack told The Times of Israel that, "The fear and anxiety that he spoke about reminds me of those early days after the shooting."
On Rosh Hashanah, as we prayed Kaddish at Dor Hadash, I mentioned Mariam's name in the list of those mourned by many in the congregation. As we prayed Kaddish, I thought of what Mariam said, that she didn't want her son to cry for her, but to pray for her. I prayed that, as a journalist, I could live up to her commitment to telling the truth, no matter the risks.
May Mariam's memory always be a blessing to reporters everywhere.
