I Am Holding Happiness for 6 Million Souls

There has been an uncovering of antisemitic behavior in my little New England Coastal town. Not surprising to me, it was on our high school football field. Teenage athletes and a much-loved high school football coach who led our team to State Championships. The students had the remainder of their season taken away. The coach was fired from his coaching position. Quite the town scandal.

Let me take back the lede for a moment. I want you to read it from my seat as a 46-year-old Jewish woman. I am the mother of an 11-year-old boy and a bonus 23-year-old man. I am the proud granddaughter of an Auschwitz survivor and a Dachau survivor. My father was born in a refugee camp in Germany after the liberation of the concentration camps. 

I live a Holocuast survivors life vicariously through my father. He lives with the guilt his parents lived with, the shame they felt as survivors of the atrocities. They lived with a sense of worthlessness born from a movement to rid them and their families, an entire population, from existence.

This is how my father grew up. When he married a nice American girl, it was strangely different for him, he says. He was celebrated. He said he began to feel like he could move on and rise above the pain he inherited. He was, is, living the life that those 6 million souls had lived and wanted to live. In their own homes and in their own country. My father held the happiness of 6 million souls in his heart. He has to appreciate every second, he says, and live a little harder, better, for all the others.  

As a Jewish woman, a granddaughter of a survivor, the daughter of a man born into freedom, I carry that torch. I went to college, got married, started a family, and am living my dream. I found the man of my dreams. I belong to a temple I love. I have amazing girlfriends, and I am planning my son’s Bar Mitzvah. I do not think I could be any happier.

Then the football team thing happened. In my own town. The football team was using words like “Auschwitz” as an audible. Let me say that again: they name a play “Auschwitz” to signal players to block a lineman. 

I have dealt with my fair share of antisemitism in my life. I actually believe most Jewish people have. 

“Don’t Jew me down.”

“Don’t buy anything from her, she’s not to be trusted, her last name is GOLDBERG.”

“I’ve never met a Jew before, I thought you guys had horns.” (Yes, someone said this to me.)

Growing up and as a young woman, I would laugh uncomfortably. I felt that if I caused a fuss every time I heard something antisemtic, then I wouldn’t get through a day.

Back in my town, Jewish students begin to come out with their stories of antisemetic behavior in the school hallways for decades; Pennies being thrown at them, Nazi salutes as a Jewish student finishes a class presentation. There are so many stories. This is not an isolated incident. Where the fuck have I been in this town? Living under a rock? My anger sets in. Now I’m going to have to move, which is really disappointing because I like it here.

More anger sets in. And then the questions.

Where is the help? What is the school doing about this? The School Administration fired the Football Coach, but he remains active as a special-needs teacher within our school system.  

Anger turns to utter confusion.

Where is the school? Where are the assemblies? Where are the school psychologists?

The town is in an uproar, and social media ignites with opinions. “Coach is a good guy, he just made a mistake,” some said. “You can’t take down someone’s career for one careless mistake,” some argued. “Fire him and fire him now!” others countered in equal numbers.  “Throw him in jail!” 

The Football Team is suspended from partaking in any practices and any games. Some react with anger that the season has been disrupted. They have a title to defend. The town continues its divisive argument on social media. Name-calling, hatred, keyboard warriors lighting up the town’s social media. 

Still, silence from the school. 

Are we talking to our children? It certainly cannot be left to some adults. We cannot trust the adults in the room to make changes. I become a keyboard warrior targeting the schools and principals. Opinions are being formed in every household in town. This is a topic at every dinner table. Children are overhearing adult conversations. 

Still, silence from the schools.  

If I dismiss this, if I move, have I turned my back on my family’s history, dismissed our story? Would each night my grandmother spent on the top bunk of barrack 36C in Auschwitz be for nothing?

I need to fight, but I don’t want to be at the front. I don’t want to lead the protest through the center of town. I don’t want to be the person who shouts at the top of their lungs.  I want to live peacefully, under the radar.  

I am selfish.  My grandmother wanted to live peacefully, too. But that dream was stolen from her.  

I think of the words that I have used to define myself throughout my life:

Jewish

Female

American

Free

These words, in this order.  I have the strength and fire of a proud Jewish woman on a mission. The granddaughter of an Auschwitz survivor. I have often been told I possess the determination and grit of my Grandma Betty. She was described as a “quiet force.”

I have the privilege of being an American woman. I was born into my freedom, but I know where it comes from. Freedom does not come easily. And I am smart! 

To the fight I go.  I will fight for Grandma Betty. I choose to be the example my son needs.This Jewish American woman will not stop.