Noa Trichter, 19, lives in Herzliya; arriving from Lisbon
Hi Noa, what were you doing in Portugal?
My cousin, his partner and their baby moved there, so I went to visit.
And what do you do in Israel?
I’m in between things right now. I have finished a mixed [religious-secular] pre-army program and I am about to start National Service, which I am deferring a bit because I am going to Italy to study silversmithing.
Why did you decide on National Service [instead of the Israel Defense Forces]?
After half an hour of talking with the army’s mental health officer, we realized it wasn’t gonna happen. At the end he gave me a kind of blessing and said, “Go do what you need to do, and I will take care of it.”
How three weeks in Azerbaijan almost turned me into a Zionist
‘I chose combat because I wanted a meaningful service. Also, the IDF makes it look good on Instagram’
Where will you do your [civilian] service?
I would really like to work with at-risk youth. I just love kids. Their imagination is still open, they don’t have fixed ideas about things. It’s a sort of period where needs someone to be there and be attentive. I myself needed it at these ages, and I was lucky to have it. I felt embraced whenever I wasn’t able to embrace myself. I think everyone needs that. This is something I really want to offer people who do not have a supportive family or friends. It does me good, it’s terribly satisfying.
What is so satisfying about it?
I volunteered at a kindergarten in south Tel Aviv, and even just getting a farewell hug, and seeing how it would hurt when I was leaving – things the girl I supported in the process told me – it makes you feel that your life has meaning in the world.
Did you work with a young girl?
Yes. I tried to work with different kids, not to get too attached to any of them, because in the end I didn’t want them to be dependent on me. But I supervised an amazing child for a few months, the daughter of Eritrean refugees. Her name was Jannah, she was 5 years old, and it developed into a friendship. She was my buddy.
Tell us about the interaction
First of all, there was a certain language barrier. She spoke Hebrew, but I also grew up with several languages at home, and I noticed that speaking triggered an attention problem or [made her speak] gibberish. I would always bring some creative object so we had something to bond over, and then the conversation would get going through play. We talked about how big the sky is or about the shapes of leaves or about how she was feeling … you know, a 5-year-old girl like any 5-year-old, only with a more difficult life story.
It is said that refugee children are exposed to more domestic violence.
That’s a generalization, but it’s true. You see babies who have been hit. Sometimes a girl came in with marks that couldn’t be ignored, so you’d ask what happened but she wouldn’t say anything or even use the excuse of falling down the stairs.
Amazing that it did not make you depressed.
I think the three hours I would spend there on Fridays, even if it didn’t change a girl’s entire life and she was left with scars – it would be a time of plain fun for her. Of: Yay, I’m a girl like any other kid.
What languages did you speak at home?
German. My mother is from Germany. She is a Christian and did not convert; my parents got married in Europe. According to the rabbinate, I am not even a Jew.
Where did your parents meet?
My mother worked at the Israeli Opera, where she met my father’s ex-wife. That day, his ex-wife called my dad and said, “I just met your kids’ mom.” It was really sweet. Then my dad came for “fake” German lessons with my mom, even though he knew German because of his parents – the Holocaust, etc. She quickly realized he spoke great German and it became something else.
You mentioned the Holocaust. Did your grandparents have a hard time when your father married a German?
My mother previously had another partner, also Israeli. His mother said to my mother: “You will not marry my son” – after they were together for eight years. I think it was complicated for my grandmother at first, but they were best friends until her final days.
Dorit Bahar-Solell.Tomer Appelbaum
Dorit Bahar-Solell, 60+, lives in Tel Aviv; flying to New York
Hi Dorit, what work do you do?
I’m a former journalist, I was an editor at the women’s magazine La’Isha for 32 years. I left before the coronavirus
What is it like to work at one place for so long?
That won’t be happening in another few years. Today success is measured by mobility. I have a niece, a 37-year-old engineer, she’s already on her fifth company. She is constantly improving her pay and conditions.
What was different in the past?
Everything was more focused, there was less to deal with and in my case, at least, I ended up in the best place. One of La’Isha’s core principles was to be like family, with mutual support. No extremism, no gossip – an amazing team of women along with one charming and accommodating man.
Why did you leave?
Burnout. Personal issues. I have a son on the [autism] spectrum, although he’s highly functional. Every minute and a half his school was calling me. This duality of being at home a lot and at work a lot was not for me. I now have a new career in interior design, but for several years I was feeling over the hill. The digital revolution was too much for me. Young blood entered the industry, and I felt like that I was it, that I had done my part.
How did you get the job at La’Isha?
Just by chance, after I gave up being a photographer. I got temporary work at one of Yedioth Ahronoth’s local papers in 1988. I started as a secretary, and then I was recruited to set up the entertainment magazine Pnai Plus, and from there I climbed. When the iconic editor of La’Isha [which is owned by Yedioth] left, I was promoted to be a deputy editor for the new boss.
What is it like to write for a women’s magazine?
It’s very challenging and it’s wonderful. It has always had an image of being for bimbos, but it really is not like that. Recently, the editor of La’Isha, Karina Shtotland, won the Sokolow Prize. Maybe when the paper was run by men there were all sorts of silly things, like the boobs page you might remember.
What’s the “boobs page”?
The boobs page was a page for men, so to speak, with pictures of the chests of women from around the world. The whole point of it was that they could see boobs.
And it was called the boobs page?
Of course not, but we on the editorial staff called it that.
When was it discontinued?
When a female editor-in-chief came in. Orna Nenner literally changed the face of the magazine and introduced amazing sections on women’s empowerment and feminism. It had everything.
As a deputy editor, what was important for you to see in the magazine?
Interesting stories, stories that would empower women, help underprivileged women. I don’t know if you know about the cover featuring women who had been raped, or the cover featuring a woman who was photographed with bare breasts and scars after her mastectomy. That was a few months ago; I think that was the catalyst for the Sokolow Prize.
That is different from the image of La’Isha, which is of a magazine dealing with stereotypical women’s issues.
But women want that content too. I remember how often I got queries about the best hair-removal method. People would write and call the magazine; there were questions that kept repeating themselves. This could be of interest to the female professor or the female housekeeper. We were there to entertain and to give women answers.
Can you see how femininity changed, via the pages of the magazine?
It didn’t happen in a day. From appealing to women to remain in the kitchen and at home, and be their husband’s little slave, it became an appeal to an independent, careerist, successful woman who controls her own destiny.
Do younger women still read La’Isha?
Some young women are crazy about La’Isha, but less so. Now there’s a lot of online content. We have something new every day. I say “we,” because I still feel part of the team.
Is there an article you are particularly proud of?
The truth is I was more into the fun side. I was in the lifestyle section.
What can you tell us about style after 32 years?
Classic is the key word. Shapes that fit the body. Each woman needs to know her body. If she has nice legs – highlight the legs; if she has a nice waist – highlight the waist. Know your weaknesses and your strengths. Black always works, so does a monochromatic scale. You probably need to be born with it, too.