Recently, you inquired about my actions during the rise of a troubling political figure, and I felt an immense pride in sharing my journey with you. I dedicated my time to protests and rallies, wrote countless letters, made numerous phone calls, and engaged in discussions, all alongside many others who aimed to uphold the core values of our nation. You chuckled when I recounted how your mother, aunt, and uncle joined me in a vibrant march, chanting “hate won’t make us great.” You were curious to see their photos from when they were just 7, 5, and 3 years old. Unfortunately, I couldn’t show you those images because the march coincided with Shabbat, but I saved their signs, which you adored.
We reminisced about those moments, but the conversation shifted to the darker days that followed, when things seemed to worsen before they improved. You struggled to comprehend how a ban on refugees could be enacted on Holocaust Remembrance Day or how a known racist could begin their confirmation as attorney general on the first day of Black History Month. I confessed to you that I, too, was bewildered and still remain so. The chaos that ensued left many of us grateful to have made it through, yet we held close the memories of those who were not as fortunate.
You asked if I felt afraid during those times. “Absolutely,” I replied. I feared for the future of our country, for the lives of individuals at risk. The surge of anti-semitism, Islamophobia, racism, sexism, and homophobia was alarming. The threats to a free press and the acceptance of “alternative facts” (which, by the way, are just lies) were terrifying. I worried for our planet, too. When you asked me about snow, I laughed, but inside, it broke my heart.
It’s crucial to note, however, that while I was frightened, I wasn’t directly threatened. I was thankful for the ability to march, to call, to write, without immediate danger. I fought for the freedom that allows me to do so, and for those who face threats daily because of their skin color, faith, sexuality, or lifestyle. I wanted to ensure that those in peril could find refuge here, so they wouldn’t have to suffer for being who they are. I wished for this truth to endure in the United States.
I hoped my explanations clarified why I fought with such fervor, despite being labeled as crazy, a conspiracy theorist, or a social outcast at gatherings. But there was another powerful motivator that propelled me through the turmoil: the knowledge that one day, you would ask me, “What did you do?” I wanted to respond with unwavering honesty: “I fought. I fought for you.”
With all my love,
Savta
In Summary
This letter captures a grandmother’s dedication to activism during a tumultuous political climate, illustrating her fears, motivations, and the hope that future generations will understand the importance of fighting for equality and justice.