Under Iranian Attack: An American in Tel Aviv

It was 5 AM: The sirens screamed again. I jumped out of bed and sprinted to the bomb shelter: For the third time that night. Iran wanted us dead. Iran launched ballistic drones and missiles near our home. That moment marked the beginning of what became my nightly reality, up until today. The way Israeli and American authorities handled the situation made me grateful for the American flag on my back, whether in Israel or anywhere else.

We’re Americans here for a work program through Taglit called Onward—Internships from venture capital firms to research labs at the Weizmann Institute. To cover travel costs, I joined Taglit’s flagship program: Birthright. During that time, we only experienced a little of what is, sadly, the normal reality for many Israelis: sirens and missiles. Our Israeli friend guided us as we ducked for cover in Jerusalem while the sirens sounded throughout the city. The Iron Dome intercepted the botched Houthi attack. We first experienced daily Israeli life under threat once we began working here.

I work for a fintech company, conducting analyses of our competitors and how we can increase our number of searches (SEO). For most of my trip here, I’ve done this during the day; I’ve gone to the shuk and hung out with friends at night. We lived in a cozy apartment in Florentine, Tel Aviv, with a group of students from Toronto.

One Shabbat, everything changed. What had felt like a peaceful routine was shattered. The sirens went off, and I assumed it was routine. That moment was just the start of many sleepless nights.

Students panicked inside the shelter, worried for their Israeli family members as calls and texts flooded in. The whole world was watching us. I received a message from a close family friend in Hong Kong who was concerned about our safety and said that Israel was the world’s top headline.

An Iranian missile had just hit the building where one student worked in Sarona. Luckily, I had friends beside me, and I was there for them. Even though it was Shabbat during a Jewish program, the program leaders told us that we had to evacuate our Tel Aviv apartment as soon as possible.

We cleaned every spot in our building, tossing out everything from black bananas to old bottles of Tubi. We evacuated our building, and Taglit relocated us somewhere safe. I’m currently in a secure location with hot meals and a strong IDF presence. Officials from the U.S. State Department and other organizations have coordinated an evacuation plan.

We’re about to return to our previous American lives. Though I arrived as a college student, I leave with a changed perspective. The experience showed me that much of the world—Iran’s government, the Houthis, and Hamas—wants Jews and Israelis dead.

I’ve come to appreciate that what I’ve experienced in Israel was a rare privilege. Many Israelis lack safe bomb shelters. People in Bat Yam died when their century-old homes collapsed under attack. Many non-U.S. citizens remain stranded. Many Israelis hoping to return have no way back. Despite our tumultuous experiences, I have to acknowledge that we are truly the lucky ones. I’ll always be grateful for the protection that comes with American citizenship. I came here for work. I leave with a deeper understanding of safety—and how lucky I am to take it for granted.