When people ask me where I’m from, I say “Rumania”. Yet, I can’t even think of it as my country. My memories from childhood during the war consist of filth, poverty, and oppression. Even after the war, I didn’t have a chance to put down roots and feel bonded to my birthplace. As an adult, I returned to my birthplace to revisit some of the places I had known as a child, but there was no familiarity or feelings of kinship associated with that experience. I felt completely detached. The area was just a city in which I once lived.

We moved to Israel when I was 15. While I felt safe and free there, I was still a new immigrant and was mocked by the natives for talking funny. I grew to love Israel, but it was not my origin or my birthplace.

When I came to the United States as a young woman, my manner often shocked Americans. I was too direct, brazen and outspoken. I said what was on my mind, which is a trait common to Israelis. I know I often embarrassed my children because I took a stand and spoke up and got involved when there were issues that were important to me… anti-Semitism, was one of those topics. I am reminded by the words of Eli Wiesel, fellow author and concentration camp survivor. He once said, “Apathy is the worst of human traits; not getting involved, looking the other way, witnessing brutality from man to man and not speaking out is unconscionable.” The truth is, We are our brother’s keepers.