From the Graves of Six Million to the Protests on the Street

I love research.

I love learning new things and exploring knowledge in an attempt to broaden my perspective.

One of the saddest things I have ever researched is my own family.

My paternal grandmother, who I was extremely close to, moved to America in 1921. She came with her father, mother and older sister in search of a better life and better opportunities after my great grandfather's business began to fail due to increased difficulty on Jewish owned businesses brought on by a rising rate of anti Semitism, later even more heavily fueled by the Nazi party.

They asked other relatives to come with them, but I don't think anyone expected that the majority of the entire world would turn their backs on us and allow us to be slaughtered until 6 million of us were reduced to bones and dust.

I've searched for years... For anything. A name. A picture. Some kind of document. Anything.

Year after year I come up blank.

When my grandmother arrived at Ellis Island, the first thing they did was to change our last name because it wasn't "American" enough. It went from Behr or Baeher or Bahr to Beer (thanks, Murrica). In this sense, any documentation becomes drowned in the thousands of other papers from Austrian immigrants in the 1920s who had names like ours that were deemed unacceptable... too "dirty" to enter. We had to be stripped of our identity and given something a little more Aryan to enter.

No matter where I look or how much new information I gather I come up with ghosts. Nameless ghosts.

That's what history has reduced my family to.

There are a minimum of 12 people that I know were killed but my grandmother estimated it to be in the 20s, assuming the family she left behind in 1921 had children before 1938 when the Nazis invaded Austria.

Many people in this country (and all over the world) have cultural trauma brought on by the inhumane way that we treat people who are different, who look different,who believe different things. 

I have an entire family that I never got to meet; one whose legacy was cut short and, it would appear after years of research, has been completely erased.

The goal of the Nazi party was to eradicate those who were not blonde haired, blue eyed, Aryan versions of a perfect race that only existed among a select few cultures and religions. This did not just include the Jews. Countless people of other cultures and walks of life were murdered: Roma Gypsies, people with disabilities, Gays, Soviet Prisoners of War and I'm sure the list goes on to include more.

So, you see, we have a long history of being humans who murder others for things they cannot control. For their differences. For things that should be viewed as beautiful. For things we should celebrate. 

You would think that's bad enough and we could stop there. But the truth is that we also have a history of putting people into power that will carry out our desire to "clean" the world of whatever we find "dirty." 

We rally behind these supposed heroes of our nation while they systematically create deficits for the poor, placing them in ghettos and food deserts, isolating them from their chance to create a better life for their families and making them easy targets of racism, bigotry, and ultimately extermination. 

Do we stop there? No.

We place blame on those impacted by saying we had a right to destroy their lives because they are ruining our economy. They're a stain on our view of perfectionism, a blemish on our country. 

I'm not just referring to the ghettos of the 30s and 40s. I'm talking about the poor communities in Harlem, the slums of Chicago, and the shitty reservations we forced the Native Americans into after we murdered their children, raped their women and stole their lands.

We tell people that they simply have to "pick yourself up by the bootstrap" and turn away from the fact that many of them can't afford boots if they're going to feed their children. Then we say "stop having so many children if you can't afford them." But it's hard to afford birth control when you can barely afford food.

My great grandfather picked himself up by the bootstraps when he came to this country in 1921. He was a tailor. He learned English. But what he also learned was that he wasn't good enough to enter America with his wife and daughters simply as he was. First he had to change his last name to something just a little bit more American. A little easier for other people to accept and pronounce. A name as simple as Max Bahr or Max Beher or Max Baeher had to be Max Beer. He lost countless jobs because he would leave work Friday before sundown and then he wouldn't show up on Saturday because Jews pray in the Synagogue on Friday nights and Saturday morning/afternoon. He didn't know that this custom was different here. Nobody bothered to explain it to him. They just fired him. 

My grandmother once fainted in school because a German boy in her class pulled her hair and called her "Curly Jew" and then shoved her so hard the fear of what would come next caused her tiny body to shut down. 

We are not kind to those who are different here.

And if you think otherwise, chances are that the link to your own ancestry has been dimmed over time and you've forgotten what your bloodline had to endure. Either that or your descendants fit a very lucky description of blonde hair blue eyed versions of whiteness, white passing, Christian, or some other fortunate nationality that hasn't had to experience the "cleansing" we Jews (and other cultures) experienced before coming to your shores.

So what do we do in the face of all of this?

The answer isn't simple because we all do different things. The luckiest and blindest of us will claim that there's nothing to do because there isn't a problem and the fault lies on "those dirty <insert racial/religious expletive here>"

But for those of us close enough to remember the cries of our forefathers, the answer isn't that simple. The need to speak up in the face of injustice is something that comes from years of our own persecution. It flows through our veins like fire, burning us and reminding us of our loved ones who died in the flames at the hands of our oppressors. 

Auschwitz survivor and author Elie Wiesel said it beautifully in a series of quotes: "We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to PROTEST. No human race is superior; no religious faith is inferior. All collective judgments are wrong. Only racists make them. Wherever men and women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must - at that moment - become the center of the universe."

I am a daughter of the Jewish people. One whose relatives cry out from an unmarked grave. Buried among heaps and piles of 6 million others with a similar story. Their tormented spirits haunt my dreams. Nameless ghosts with stories untold. This is not ancient history. This is a mere 75 years ago. Close enough to slap me in the face with icy hands every time I hear of racial and religious injustice and am asked to do nothing.

We must never be silent. We must never forget. And we must never allow the people of Earth to commit injustice toward each other on this scale ever again; lest we repeat history and turn our backs to the anguished cries of our families before us whose voices, names, identities and lives were taken for no reason other than the disgusting desire for national "purity."

My message to humanity is simple:

Get angry.

Where there is injustice, we must create justice. Where there is suffering, we must bring peace. Where this is inequality, we must not only create equality but bring equity, and when there is genocide or the systematic attempt to destroy a nation, it is our sacred duty to be an ally to the oppressed.

Don't fool yourself into thinking that your silence isn't part of the bigger issue.