History Within Us by Raleigh

History Within Us by Raleigh - April 2024 Scholarship Essay

“He would have loved you,” she says, pointing towards me. I look up, my bright blue eyes peering through the strands of blonde hair covering my face, and give her a meek smile while my cheeks redden. We are talking about World War II, specifically Adolf Hitler. The slide shining a blinding spotlight on my blushing cheeks is the “superior race” and his torture of over eleven million Jews. I had always loved my hair, but at that moment, I would have traded it for a dark brown, black, or blue, anything to take those words away from me. However, the class returned to the usual chatter seconds later, and the moment seemed forgotten. I sat stunned; how could a teacher say such a thing to me as if I should be grateful? As if I should feel blessed that although I would have been shipped off to a prison camp and most likely died, Hitler would have loved me.
My father’s side of the family is Jewish. And this makes me Jewish by birth. This part of my history always scared me, not in a way I felt embarrassed, but it was never something I embraced; with the scarce practice of Jewish traditions in our house, I never had to pay attention to it. So, my Jewish history was always something sitting in the background of my world, never finding a reason to peep its head out.
I have always loved history, especially World War II. I find everything about it fascinating. I wrote papers on niche topics like the Enigma code, devoured books on Pearl Harbor, and asked my father endless questions about the Berlin Wall. But every year, we reached the Holocaust, and the faces of starved, lifeless children flashed before my face. Others often had to leave the room, but I always stayed, biting my lip and turning away. And every year, I disconnected, never wanting to believe that any of that would have happened to me; it was all just stories in a history book.
One year, my dad gave me a book, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, which tells the story of the prison commander’s child, who befriends a young Jewish prisoner. The story ends with both boys dying in a gas chamber because the prison guard’s son wanted to play with the other boy. My tears soaked the pages. This could not be how it ends. Nobody is supposed to die. Every Disney movie I had ever seen ended “happily ever after,” but suddenly, my world had changed.
I became entranced with learning more. I called my grandfather and immersed myself in our history. He told me the story teary-eyed, as if he knew what I was going through. In that moment, I felt the real pain of history, not just stories, but actual events, the actual people, the actual pain. I envisioned bodies of overworked prisoners and felt the conflicts of the women who worked the gas chambers. But I also saw forgiveness. I saw prisoners forgive those who tortured them daily. The people who were owed nothing for their actions were forgiven. I learned not only of the strength, the determination, and the grit of my people but also of their humanity.
While I have never and will never understand what they went through, I intend to try and better the world in my own way. The International Criminal Court in Hague prosecutes people for crimes against humanity. With a furthered education, I want to walk into that room and fight for the families of people who suffer from such horrible crimes.