The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank was, next to Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, the most influential book I read in my turbulent adolescent years. Without pause, I can say that I’d never felt so understood by someone; that my feelings of otherness, of difference, of terror and excitement at the world around me were truly acknowledged by her stark vulnerability.
But then I learned how she died, and it haunted me. And still does.
I would lay awake at night, thinking about her—about what she would have been like—I was sure we would have been friends. I’d imagine the fun we’d have, the jokes we’d make. The movies we’d see, and all the books we’d discuss.
Now that I’m older and am also a writer, I wonder how many more incredible works she would have published, had her flame not been stamped out.
Anne Frank didn’t die in a death camp. She died in a concentration camp.
From conditions so deplorable, fatal illness spread without reservation and killed countless thousands, and more.
Let’s ignore the blindingly obvious fact that these detention centers at the border are illegal, and a direct violation of not only the American Constitution, but also the UN’s list of human rights.
The Franks, when they were found in their hiding place and taken to a concentration camp, weren’t given proper clothing, proper food, or water to bathe themselves. They were forced into quarters so close, it’s no wonder disease spread so quickly, and that so many died.
If it doesn’t, you’re lying to yourselves, or you just don’t care, because you are lucky enough to be able to ignore what is such a flagrant crime against humanity, and against God.
Count yourselves fortunate that today you aren’t brown-skinned.
That you are haphazardly “blessed” enough to have been born on the “right” side of the border; that you have a legal status to treat people as cattle and not be punished for it.
And it doesn’t matter if you’re actually a citizen anymore, either. The list is daily growing of American-born citizens of dark complexion, even of the military, who are being arrested and held in the detention centers.
But like the hysteria of the Terror in the French Revolution, you will find that no one is safe forever.
One quick turn of the air of this malice, and your head will be the next one beneath the guillotine’s blade.
You must remember, it wasn’t just Jews that were held in horrific captivity in WWII Germany and Europe—those who opposed even the idea of what the government preached as infallible, undeniable, irrevocable law.
Let me say it again: no one is safe forever.
What if one day your blind, racist support is not enough?
What if they demand more—more than even you, marching to the drums of the presidential suite, are willing to give?
What will you say then?
And what will happen when you die?
What will your defense be, kneeling before God?
Kneeling before Christ, a brown-skinned vagabond, a condemned criminal, tortured and executed under the strict manner of the law?
“Oh, those illegals broke the law”?
You would utter such words of self-righteous arrogance and hatred to the God of all creation, who died under such circumstances? Because you are uttering them now, and He hears every syllable.
You should be ashamed of yourselves, calling yourselves Christians and Catholics while spitting on those less fortunate, and darker, than you.
This is wrong.
This is evil.
But until it happens to you, you won’t care.
Christ didn’t say, “What you do to the least of these, you do unto me,” for kicks.
You can look coldly upon the preventable deaths of these children, these miscarriages, these tortures, these flagrant violations of basic human rights, and not bat an eye.
Until your children are taken.
Until your home is ransacked, your possessions destroyed, your own wrists in handcuffs, and your loved ones torn from you.
Evil does not vouch for evil; it consumes itself.
And it will consume all those who vouch for it, no matter what supposed “good intentions” you’ve convinced yourself you have.
There is a meme being shared right now that strikes to the heart of all of this:
When you wonder what you would have done during the Holocaust or during the Civil Rights Movement, you’re doing it now.
If that disturbs you, take a hard look and ask yourself what is more important: your self-gratifying, political-fueled racism, or your brothers and sisters of a different locale pleading in desperation for a helping hand?