What Anne Frank’s “Diary of a Young Girl” Taught Me — About Our World
My students and I have been learning about the Holocaust and its impact, and what’s heartbreaking is how many of the early patterns from that era echo the world we’re living in right now. Germany’s persecution of Jewish people didn’t begin with death camps — it started with boycotts of Jewish businesses and the Nuremberg Race Laws, which slowly stripped Jewish families of rights in a country they called home. These laws didn’t appear overnight; they were part of a step-by-step process designed to weaken, isolate, and break down an entire community.
In our ELA class, we’re reading The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank, and it makes all of this history real. Reading her diary brings a human voice to the laws and policies we study — it’s one thing to know about boycotts and race laws, and another to hear a thirteen-year-old girl describe what it felt like to be trapped, powerless, and fearful in her own home.
As I teach and reflect, I can’t help noticing how certain processes today feel eerily familiar. Even though today’s laws look different, annex housing and ICE directives aimed at Spanish-American families create a climate of fear and instability — for people who, like Anne’s family, call this country home. And when you consider the government’s neglect of poor and minority communities, it’s impossible to ignore how systems can be weaponized against those with the least power.
We tell ourselves, “Not in America, huh? Home of the free.” But history reminds us that democracies aren’t destroyed in one moment. They unravel slowly, through targeted policies, shifting narratives, and quiet changes that make some groups increasingly vulnerable.
History also teaches us about power and those who wield it. Dictators may look strong on the outside, but inside, they are broken — consumed by guilt, paranoia, and the weight of their actions. Germany’s leadership pushed forward with a plan to overtake Eastern territories, denying the humanity of entire populations. When one human being strips away the rights, safety, and innocence of another, the consequences ripple far beyond politics. These wounds don’t fade with time.
And here’s the truth history refuses to let us forget: no matter how strong someone appears in the moment, the world eventually holds them accountable. Harm done to human beings never disappears. It returns, it echoes, and it demands to be reckoned with.
I’d like to invite readers to join this conversation:
How can we, as Americans, offer emotional support to fellow citizens who are experiencing the brunt of these decisions today? What does solidarity look like in a moment where so many feel unseen, unsafe, or unheard? Your insights matter — and your compassion matters even more.
