Remembering Our Stories
By: Ellie Mendelson
In 1939, my grandfather’s family was torn apart. He lost all of his immediate family, was subjected to forced labor, and lived the atrocities of Auschwitz, Flossenburg and a brutal death march. Following the end of the war, he immigrated to America in order to begin a new life. He established a loving family, making an emphasis on working hard and persevering, always telling his children and grandchildren that the future is important. In the wake of devastation it is natural to fixate on questions such as “why” instead of looking towards the future. What I have learned from my grandfather’s experience is that the question should really by “why, and what can we do for the future?”
For centuries, communities around the world have been targeted with baseless hatred and ignorance, simply because of who they are and what they believe in. Armenia. Syria. Sudan. South Sudan. Rwanda. Iraq. Darfur. Democratic Republic of the Congo. Central African Republic. Cambodia. Burma. Bosnia-Herzegovina. Bangladesh.
These are just a few of the communities affected by ignorance-driven mass killing.
The history of genocide seems distant to many, but it is not. A recent study showed that 31% of Americans, and 41% of millennials, believe that two-million or fewer Jews were killed in the Holocaust, 41% of Americans, and 66% of millennials, cannot say what Auschwitz was. And 52% of Americans falsely believe Hitler came to power through force. These shocking statistics confirm the dire need for mutual understanding between communities affected by genocide around the world. Remembering the Holocaust has universal lessons for everyone — not just the Jewish people. It is our responsibility as a community that has suffered to remember other genocides. Growing up with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (Washington, DC) as a strong influence in my life, I was taught that “Never Again” extends beyond the atrocities of that occurred between 1939–1945.
The panel was co-sponsored by TableTalk Brandeis, as the goal of the event was to facilitate a discussion about a difficult topic. All of the panelists were students whose families had been directly affected by the Holocaust, Armenian and Cambodian genocides, as well as the Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. The panelists spoke eloquently, each sharing a different family history and method of commemoration, but voicing a similar opinion: that we must acknowledge each other first and foremost as human beings, and that opening dialogue about each of these tragedies is important, and does not happen enough. One of the panelists (of Cambodian descent) mentioned that in her experience, it was strange that something that impacts her life so much goes essentially unnoticed by most people. The rest of the panelists agreed, profoundly speaking to the importance of our discussion. After the panel concluded, a few different students came up to me and told me that they had never heard of some of the genocides that were included in the panel. They said it was motivating them to learn more about those histories. To me, this felt like the ultimate success because it was proof that the panel had opened up dialogue, and was giving our community the opportunity to learn.
Remembering all genocide is crucial to our ability to prevent it in the future. The panelists all shared something in common: our families were torn apart by genocide, stemming from baseless hatred and ignorance. Understanding how genocide affects families around the world is opens an important dialogue about how we can move forward as a community while recognizing suffering around the world.
It is my hope that the panel gave students at Brandeis University new perspectives to consider, a feeling of mutual understanding and respect, and allowed members of our community to think critically about why we remember on Yom HaShoah and other days of commemoration.
