Chained to Our Past Shella Yazdi
As a child I didn’t have worries. Shielded from all bad things in the world, I played and laughed without giving anything a second thought. At the age of five, I was approached by a young man at my synagogue. He complimented my costume, which I wore to commemorate a Jewish holiday. He then rolled up his sleeve to show me the numbers tattooed into his arm. With tears in his eyes, he told me how happy he was to see a child who was able to celebrate a Jewish holiday. Unsure of what he meant, I continued playing and laughing along with my friends. The first time I was taught about the Holocaust was in the fourth grade. I still remember the shock and terror I felt while hearing how a survivor watched as his family was sent to their death. My immediate thought was, That could have been me, if only I was born in a different decade. For weeks after the assembly I couldn’t act like my normal self. While I knew it was important for me to learn about my past, I couldn’t help but wish I still had a shield to protect myself from all the wrong in the world. My parents sent me to a therapist due to my change in behavior and she gave me advice I live by to this day: some sad stories have happy endings and focusing on the sadness won't get you anywhere. I realized the way I need to deal with my pain is by being a listening ear to survivors. I am now proud to be participating in Witness Theater, a program where students interview Holocaust survivors and then create and perform their stories. During our second meeting, we received a paper with short biographies of
110 ~ Storm
