In July 2020, I was surfing the Internet looking for people with whom I could share my stories. I am a descendant of Holocaust survivors, a mother of five and grandmother of one. I left Europe in 2017 with a part of my family to come to Israel. My first step in Israel made me feel at home. But why did we leave Europe? So many reasons. A husband who was living a different agenda, a son, 14 years at that time, who was a victim of discrimination and afraid to go to school. A mentality in the Netherlands, where we came from, which did not fit ours.
I did have friends, but I really never fit in properly. I did not belong in the Jewish community in Amsterdam. The moment I came to Israel, I understood why. The Jewish community in Amsterdam is still very much affected by the Holocaust. There is denial, there is sorrow, there is an atmosphere of: if you do not talk, you do not feel. Members of the Jewish community hardly have family, or at least, big families. When I was searching the Internet, however, I found somebody who felt exactly the same way. Our families came from the same place. We had both danced ballet and her father was one of the greatest Jewish writers I know. We decided to speak up.