MANCINELLI: It's important to bear witness and see evil with your own eyes

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Recently, I took the time to visit the Nova Music Festival Exhibition, which is currently in Toronto. For me, a strong ally to the Jewish community, especially in the post-October 7 era, as we witness denialism of the atrocities and a disturbing rise in antisemitism across Canada, it was important for me to bear witness.

I walked into the Nova exhibit expecting it to be heavy, but I wasn’t prepared for the way it would reach into the deepest corners of my heart. Absolutely nothing could have prepared me for what I saw and heard inside those walls.

The exhibit begins by painting a picture of what that day was like, showing the lights and music reminiscent of a vibrant festival. You can feel the joy, the unity, the freedom that filled the air before the horror began. Then, like a jarring shift in a dream, the mood darkens. You’re surrounded by remnants of that day — charred tents, blood-stained clothes, twisted metal, porta-potties where people tried to hide, full of bullet holes. But it’s not just the physical artifacts that hit hardest, it’s the stories.

Listening to survivors recount what they lived through was gut-wrenching. One young woman described hiding for hours in a field, texting her family goodbye. Another man showed photos of his friends, now gone, whose laughter once filled the air just moments before everything changed. Their voices cracked, not just from pain, but from the weight of needing to be heard. And as someone outside of the Jewish community, I realized how vital it is for people like me to listen.

This exhibit isn’t about politics. It’s about people. It’s about lives lost and lives shattered. It’s about the raw human toll of hate and violence. The Nova massacre wasn’t just an attack on Jews — it was an attack on humanity, on joy, on the right to dance freely under the stars. I saw myself in those young people. I saw my friends. My siblings. And that’s when it truly clicked: Silence in the face of this kind of horror isn’t neutrality — it’s complicity.

We must speak because every hateful act chips away at the dignity of us all. We must speak because our Jewish neighbours, friends and family deserve to live without fear. We must speak because justice demands it.

What makes the exhibit so powerful is its refusal to let you look away. It doesn’t sanitize the suffering, but it doesn’t sensationalize it either. It simply tells the truth. And that truth demands a response.

As Canadians, we weren’t untouched by this massacre. Canadians who went to Nova festival to dance with their friends were also victims, including Ben Mizrachi from Vancouver and Alexandre Look, a young man from Montreal, a hero who was murdered trying to save others hiding in a bomb shelter.

It’s easy to think, “This isn’t my community,” or “This doesn’t affect me.” But it does. Antisemitism, hatred and terrorism are not just Jewish problems. They’re human problems. And if we let them go unanswered, we’re all at risk of losing something precious — our shared sense of dignity and justice.

I left the exhibit changed. Humbled. Angry. Heartbroken. But also, more committed than ever to standing with the Jewish community — not just in words, but in action. Sharing these stories. Challenging hate when I see it. And encouraging others to experience this exhibit for themselves.

To anyone who isn’t Jewish and wonders if this exhibit is “for them,” let me be clear: It is. In fact, it might be especially for you. Because we need to bridge the gap between witnessing and action. Between sympathy and solidarity.

Visit the Nova exhibit. Bring your friends. Bring your questions. And most importantly, bring your open heart. You’ll walk out different than you walked in — and that’s exactly the point.

— Victoria Mancinelli is Director, PR, Communications and Strategic Partnerships, with LiUNA