Diary of a Young Girl

So last night I watched PBS' new Diary of Anne Frank, and cried like a little girl. It was so fascinating to watch her develop over time, and to remember my feelings and transformations as I turned 13, 14, and 15, and then to watch her experience all of this, all while trapped in with her family and these relative strangers. I loved the little romance that bloomed between her and Peter, and then watch it disappear as she grows even more, and grows to love writing. I looked her up on Wikipedia, and was sad to learn that only weeks after her death would she have been saved.

They were actually found and interned after D Day, which is upsetting. In the program, they're all waiting to be saved, hoping each day that the Allies will reach them, that they will survive and the girls can go back to school and they can resume a life, free from persecution for being Jewish. It's insane to realize that they were in there for two whole years. How horrifying. In a way, before they got to the camps and faced their unjust fate, it must have been nice to breathe fresh air again.

It makes me feel so incredibly grateful for everything I have. A mother and father that love me, the privilege of everything in my life, material things as well as advantages and opportunities that others don't have. Family and friends who care, good times I'll remember in my old age--the opportunity to grow to an old age.

I also often find myself wondering about death and the afterlife when I experience stories such as this one. Does she know that we think about her? Does she know, somewhere, wherever she is, that we hear her story and that it has become a beacon for the holocaust sympathy? That small children can begin to understand the power and tragedy of such horror, and because of her put themselves in the place of those who suffered before us? That she is a part of the prevention of another genocide? The same situations are coming upon us again--racism, conservativism, etc. People will always find reasons to blame others for their troubles, and try to punish them for being different. People fear, and people aren't smart. But I always hold the dearest hope that Anne Frank, her story and the power of her experience, will bring to light the importance of staying away from that. Of realizing that just because they're different, doesn't mean that they're not human. I am human, and so are you. Please don't make me live in a small, secret annex for two years, and lead me to my death. Avoiding that would be nice.