Tamar

Tamar was the only Ethiopian girl in the school. An object of mockery and racism. Children can be cruel, but she refused to let cruelty outline her character. Instead, she built herself a fortress of knowledge, study, and perseverance. Instead of playing with friends she didn't have, she devoted herself to studies and found her strength in them. Every grade was a brick. Every excellence distinction - a turret. Every success - proof: You will not write my story.

At age 18 she was accepted to the academic legal reserve. Afterwards she enlisted in the Military Advocate General's Corps. She led complex cases, learned to hold facts and feelings at the same time; to find a human dimension within a rigid framework, to see colors beyond black and white.

"I can handle the case of an Arab, and an Arab can handle the case of a Jew."

Precisely in light of her unique military service, she finds deep meaning in the joint work at the Peles Center, with a Jewish-Arab team. For her, this is living proof that daily partnership is not only possible, but already sustainable. All along the way, Tamar does not forget for a moment the girl who promised herself to be a source of knowledge and help. Every day she fulfills that same promise and makes the law accessible, a hand on the shoulder, a lifeline. To anyone who reaches out to her she says: "I am here. I am with you. I will fight for you" and she means every word.

"I am here to deal with the bureaucracy and remind myself of the meaning. It's not for nothing that I wait 40 minutes to speak with some authority. There is someone for whom this is meaningful."

Tamar sees how the moment a person receives help, they also get the strength to help others or encourage them to get help. And it's true, people come to the center because someone who received knowledge shared it with them. For Tamar, success is a legal victory, but not only. When someone receives a lifelong allowance or assistance that enables them to stand on their feet again, that's worth everything. But also every sense of relief she succeeds in bestowing. The moment a person tells her: "This eased my burden, a stone melted from my heart" - that is the whole world to her.

"When a person comes and says, this eases my burden, this is what I wanted, this is what I need, then that is success. It's not what's good through my eyes, but what's good for them through their eyes."

There was a woman who lost family members in the October 7th massacre. A woman who had to go through medical and emotional boards again and again, to explain the trauma, to revive the wounds in order to "prove" her pain. Tamar sat with her after one of the boards. The woman cried. And afterwards, took a deep breath. And then spoke. Not about what was broken, but about what remained: her children. The next generation and the responsibility to be strong - for them. The conversation echoed in Tamar a familiar and deep understanding: even when the heart is broken - the soul remains strong. Nothing can extinguish the human spirit.

If she could change something in the system, she would start with education. With the messages children grow up under. She knows the deadening and reviving power of the tongue; she was hurt by words said to her and was also saved thanks to words she said to herself. She knows: what looks bad can turn into good. Even mockery can turn into an achievement. "Today's scars are tomorrow's trophies." And she wants every child to know this too.

"Once you give tools and knowledge, it helps people obtain their rights, and it helps people live in a way that is better and less frustrated."

At the start of every day, the knowledge that she is meaningful to people helps her get up and continue her work. And at the end of every day, one question echoes within her: Did you do the best you can? And when asked what she would like to leave behind in the world, she answers simply that she would like to be meaningful for as many people as possible.

"Knowing that I am meaningful in people's lives is what makes me get up every morning."