Question by anothergirl: What do you think about this essay about the Holocaust?
What do you think about this essay I wrote for school?

I stare out the grimy attic window at the deserted streets below. The pale moon casts a subtle hint of light on the empty buildings and dark houses. Nighttime is the only time it is safe for me to pull back the pitch black curtains and peek out. Being a Jew is no longer acceptable in Germany, or anywhere else in Europe. When Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, eight long years ago when I was only three years old, he took over. At the time, no one knew the horrors that were to come. At first, we were simply discriminated against. If you were a Jew, you were no longer allowed to go to non-Jewish schools, or even practice your profession. But then it got worse. We were considered to be much lower than Aryans, almost as if we were animals. And that’s how they treated us. We were forced to sew yellow stars to our clothing to identify us as Jewish. We were no longer allowed to live our daily lives with the fear of being publicly humiliated, or worse: shipped off to God knows where. I’m not even sure if there is a God anymore. If there was, how could he let the Nazis treat us like this?

About 6 months ago, my parents sat me down and told me the truth: we were going into hiding. So many of our family and friends had been taken in the dead of the night, never to be heard from again. Mam and Dad told me that they had been shipped off to labor camps to work against their will. They explained that they did not want that to happen to our family. So me, my parents, and my little sister Melitta are now here, in this tiny attic above a warehouse. We are trying to survive in undesirable living conditions.

My mother always reminds me how lucky we are. We are so much better off than the Jews in camps, she says. The Nazis separate them from their families, and kill many of them. We are still a family, somehow managing to escape from the Nazi’s tight grasp on our religion. But you know what I think? The Christians are so much luckier. Why should we have to go through all of this just because of what we believe in? What makes them better than us? What gives the Nazis the right to do all these horrible things to Jews?

When I ask my father this, he just shakes his head and tells me that this is the way things are. It’s so unfair! Life is very difficult when you’re living in an attic. During the day, we have to be meticulously quiet, so others do not hear us. We may not talk above a whisper, and have to walk in a tiptoe. We can’t even use the bathroom! At nighttime, we are free to do what we wish, but we still must be quiet. An underground organization of Germans against the Nazis helped arrange our hiding place. They bring us food, news of the outside world, and hope.

My mother educates me and Melitta everyday at the tiny table we eat supper on. She says that even though we are hiding from Hitler, we still must keep up with our studies. We must not become stupid while we wait for the war to be over.

I look at the pocket watch my father has hanging on a chain. It is now 12:02 on March 22. It is officially my twelfth birthday. What a dreadful place to celebrate a birthday! For my supper tomorrow night, we will have the same thing we always have: rough brown bread and beans. I think of my past birthdays, before Jews were collectively despised. I remember the parties I used to have, the cakes my mother used to bake. That era is over, and a new, more painful one has begun.

As bad as it may seem, I know how fortunate I truly am. I have my family, my health, and my safety. Life is not perfect, and I still wonder about the future, but I am content. For now, at least. I close the ebony curtain, and crawl into the tiny cot I share with Melitta. As I drift off to sleep, I dream about better times.

Best answer:

Answer by Canute
Good

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