I survived once. I am afraid again

I was born in 1935 in Lvov, Poland. I was a small child when the Second World War began, too young to fully understand what was happening around me, but old enough to feel fear. I survived the Lvov Ghetto, separation from my parents, and periods of hiding. Many members of my family did not survive. I am alive today because extraordinary non-Jews risked their lives to protect me. Their courage is the reason I am here.

The past two years have filled me with fear and anger. Only now, at nearly 90 years old, now I have a better understanding what hatred looks like and where it can lead. I do not believe antisemitism will ever be fully erased. I have lived too long, and seen too much, to believe otherwise. I survived once before, yet I live with fear again.

My children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren live openly as Jews. They have not directly experienced antisemitism in recent years, and that gives me comfort but not certainty. I am not afraid for myself. I am afraid for those I love.

Despite the threats on Jews in the public sphere, I have not changed my way of life. I do not hide who I am. Still, when I attend synagogue and see visible security outside, I am reminded that danger exists. Inside there is warmth, prayer, and community. Outside, vigilance. That contrast is something I never imagined I would see again.

The emotions that define this moment for me are fear and frustration. I witnessed hatred long ago, without fully understanding it. Now, decades later, when I finally understand it completely, I see it rising again. That realization is deeply unsettling.

What gives me hope is knowing that good people still exist. People who value truth. People who support education. People who refuse to look away. I am alive because of such people. And even now, in uncertain times, that knowledge gives me peace.