Rachel Goldberg-Polin Speaks on Grief, Trauma, and Toxic Positivity
Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of the late Hersh Goldberg-Polin, spoke in Jerusalem about grief, warning against toxic positivity and societal pressures on trauma survivors.
Rachel Goldberg-Polin, whose son Hersh Goldberg-Polin was abducted to the Gaza Strip on October 7 and murdered in Hamas captivity after 328 days, spoke on Wednesday at a healthcare conference in Jerusalem about coping with grief and the societal pressure to return to a routine. Goldberg-Polin shared her emotional struggle, explaining that despite outward appearances, her family remains deeply wounded by the tragedy.
"We look well enough, but we are not okay," she said at the conference. Reflecting on daily interactions, she added, "When people ask me: 'Do you feel better? Are you okay? How are you?', I think to myself: I have a broken heart and a broken soul. I have a dagger stuck in my chest, why don't you see that? Isn't it obvious?" She noted that such questions typically stem from deep care and kindness, as well as uncertainty about what to say.
The Illusion of Resilience and Toxic Positivity
Addressing the frequent focus on resilience, recovery, and hope since October 7, Goldberg-Polin rejected the narrative of simple post-trauma growth. "This is not a story where I was down, and like a phoenix I rose from the ashes, and now I am better from point A to point B. I wish. I wish," she stated. Her recently written book, "When We See You Again," focuses not on recovery, but rather on love, pain, and the enduring fight for her son's memory alongside the reality of loss.
She warned against "toxic positivity" — the urge to rush traumatized individuals into believing "everything will be right" rather than holding space for their grief.
"This comes from a beautiful place, but it is misdirected," Goldberg-Polin said, warning that denying emotional trauma can inflict secondary harm.
Diverse Paths Through Grief Within the Family
Goldberg-Polin emphasized that grief is experienced uniquely by every individual, even within the same family. Alongside her husband Jon and their daughters, she survived the same collective catastrophe, yet each processes the trauma differently. She compared the experience to four people sitting in the same car struck by a train: while they share common injuries, each carries distinct wounds and entered the vehicle from a different starting point.
Concluding her address, she urged society to approach trauma survivors with empathy tailored to their specific needs rather than projecting external expectations. "This is the hardest work," she concluded. "To see the person, not to put yourself in their shoes, but to see them in their shoes and ask: How can I help this person from where they are coming from?"
